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Posted by on 2012/03/13 under Uncategorized

I wish I could just stop THINKING. I want to be thoughtless. I don’t want to feel anymore. I want to forget. I’m so tired. Always tired. Please, please, please… I don’t want to do this anymore. It hurts so bad.

It’s not like my current life is horrible and people are abusing me (well, except for… ), at least not to those who look at us from the outside. But it’s torture. Quiet, quiet, invisible…. torture.

During the last few years I’ve lost all of my friends and aqcuaintances (tbh I only had one or two friends). Even my little sister is a mystery to me now. I don’t understand how she turned into this… this… bully. Saying I deserve/d to be treated like s*** and stuff. Not to mention that she hates our 11 year old brother and keeps telling him to commit suicide so she can be rid of him… I don’t understand. I feel so lost. What happened to her that turned her into this? She wasn’t this bad… Yes, she’s always been ruled by pride, but this is just ridiculous. And here I am, afraid to tell our mother about this, because my little sister can be really scary. Yeah, I suppose I’ve always been shoved around by her. I’ve always taken her abuse in strides, but seeing her be even worse to OUR brother makes my blood boil. She shouldn’t treat him like that! Shouldn’t treat US that way. And yet, even as I say this… I don’t tell anyone, and I don’t do anything. What difference would it really make? Our parents are practically ignoring us because they’re so busy with work and each other. We’re a forgotten equation. We have to take care of ourselves. I try to show my brother that he’s at least loved by me and I try to raise him, but it’s incredibly hard when my parents scold me for basically doing THEIR job and my sister keeps on telling him how much she hates him.

It’s strange how I still love her so much. She’s a complete b**** but I love her more than anything. Maybe I tolerate the hate because I hope for her rare good days, the days where she’s actually… nice. The days I can count on one hand…
She’s so beautiful, has many friends, is always out in the weekends, gets good grades in school, is a pretty good painter… I love her. I love her even as I know that if we were not related, I’d hate her for her arrogance, her insufferable pride, her condescending nature… she’s a bully.
I don’t understand, she doesn’t need to be a bully when she’s so successfull already. Is she afraid of being seen as weak if she doesn’t do those things? Of becoming a possible victim to abuse? I’m not blind. I’ve noticed how fixated she is on strength versus weakness. How she keeps saying I’m weak. To her, I’m probably the definition of weak: I don’t speak up for myself, I was bullied a lot when I was younger, I’m quiet and incredibly shy, I avoid eye-contact like it’s a disease… and so on. It’s all things she detests. Things that she defines as weakness. Things she doesn’t want to define her.

I could rant and rage for a whole book or two about everything and it wouldn’t scrape the surface, but what’s the point? It won’t help our situation.

Sometimes I think that nothing can save us. How could our family ever become remotely functional again? I was sent to a therapist for almost 2 years by myself because I was self-harming, when actually we all need it really bad. I just had a more visibly bad way of dealing with the s***.

I’m at my wits end. I just want it all to end. I want to run away. If I could just stop thinking, stop feeling… maybe I could handle it and stay by my brother… and my sister. No matter what she does, I’ll always love her. My love for her has no boundaries, and I am aware that it is unhealthy. But it’s there and I can’t remove it. If only she saw that she doesn’t need that thing she calls ‘strength’… she won’t listen to me, the weak one. Heh… How weak am I when I’ve lived with this crap for God knows how long? Yes, I’ve held a glass-shard to the artery on my neck, begging myself to end it, but I survived that, just like I’ve survived everything else.

I may not be strong, but I’m not weak, either. At least that’s what I try to tell myself. I feel like I’m cracked. Cracked into a thousand pieces that are just barely held together, and the slightest bump would send it all tumbling down.

Please, please, please… kill my feelings, my thoughts… or let me finally find hope. I need it so bad. I want to make something out of my life, even if it is just to prove them all wrong.

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