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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/223778-Why-do-I-have-to-remember-things-like-that
Rated: GC · Book · Emotional · #594306
My life is about as interesting as the next person's.
#223778 added January 28, 2003 at 1:35pm
Restrictions: None
Why do I have to remember things like that?
Current mood: fearful

Current music: High-Fiving Mother Fucker - Local H



I wanted a reason. I wanted a reason to cry. To cut myself. Well, here I have it. I have tons of reasons.

Jacob is just pissing me off with his beliefs. I guess the people at church were right. How can you possibly get along with someone who doesn't believe what you believe? He called me a hypocrite today. And well, I guess that I am, but I am trying. I'm trying harder than he ever has . . . or will. I'm trying to be faithful. I'm trying and it's so hard and it's stressing me out. At least I get to a point where it feels like I'm doing something. I'm trying to keep my eyes on God and not the world and it is most likely the hardest thing I will ever have to do.

And I don't want to fight about this. I don't like fighting with people. I can't stand being yelled at. I can't stand being resented. And to be resented by him would kill me. I know that one day it will happen. We will fight and it will hurt and we will be done. I can feel it in my bones. It will happen soon. He reminds me of my brother and that is the worst thing in the entire world.

...The worst. My brother is the biggest asshole. The biggest jerk. The biggest loser. And he deserves to die for what he did to me. And having to remember something that dreadful is more than one could handle.

I want to die. I want to kill him and make him suffer. I want him to pay for what he did to me. He's still running free. I don't care how fucking long ago it was! He is such a bastard. I haven't been thinking about anything else all day. When he came downstairs and told me to get my fucking ass off the computer and stop screwing over mom, I almost exploded at him.

But only one thing holds me back. The fear for my life. I'm so scared he will kill me if I yell back. And I shouldn't have to worry though. I should never have to fear that my own brother is capable of killing me.

I HATE HIM. I HATE HIM SO MUCH. I WILL NEVER FORGIVE HIM. FOR WHAT HE DID TO ME. FOR WHAT HE CONTINUES DOING TO ME. The day he dies will be a happy day indeed.

Some days I wish I were never born. Then I wouldn't have to endure so much crap. Being born was the worst day of my life. I hate talking like this. I can't help it, though. What runs through my head, I jot down on paper. Talking like this makes me feel ignorant. As if I have no pride in myself to go on. To feel like I have a place for this world. But, seriously, sometimes I just feel as thought I'm here for the ride. No one really cares about me. And I despise that feeling. I despise it. I wish it away, but it always comes back. It always does. It never relents...

Just like my brother. He will never give up on trying to make me miserable. Trying to make me suffer. Haven't I suffered enough? Why can't he ever feel bad? For things he's done to others. Not because he lost his fucking video game. But for the negative impact he's left on people's lives.

I don't think he's ever felt bad about what he did. And he never will. I wouldn't forgive him if he did. He deserves nothing from me. He doesn't care about me. And when he tells me and mom he loves us, I just want to scream, "Liar!"

That's why I never say it. I can't. I can't. To Jacob, yes...But sometimes I can't even say it to him. I can't say it to my family. I don't know whether it's true. That's positively heartbreaking. If I can love some guy I never met and not my own family, there is something definitely wrong. My friends: "You love them. Deep down you do." But they don't understand that when my mom hugs me and says I love you, I feel nothing. I brush it off.


And it just doesn't feel right to say it if I'm lying.

© Copyright 2003 Yours Truly (UN: burnt_ashes at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/223778-Why-do-I-have-to-remember-things-like-that