I’m a menhera girl, lots of things have happened in my life and I’m really very confused. I use cute colours to appear sweet, but I feel like it’s way too much to hide at this point and everybody already knows there’s things wrong with me. So I embrace dark motifs, it really does help me, and the people who don’t care don’t notice, but it’s there.
I live in a house for the first time in my life with my grandparents, and now my mum. Mum and I lived a long way away in a motor home, but we ran away from him not long ago. My brother and my mother seem to know everything about living in an inhabited area, but I really feel like I suck at the whole thing. Tbh I’m not really sure about what I’m supposed to know, let alone how to go ahead and do it.
My favourite movie in the whole world is Megamind. It’s one of the movies we could watch without him getting angry, and also... I care about Megamind very much. I understand growing up in isolation without other kids, not really going to school properly or knowing much about what’s in the world around you. I understand giving in to abuse and striving for nothing more but to fill in the role assigned to you by the bloke who wants things out of you. Striving to be the perfect ‘giver’ at your own expense, but knowing how much worse things can get if you try to say ‘no’. Only having one friend, who is also pretty much the only person you ever end up getting to talk to. Being pushed right back into your position if you ever try to leave- I get it! But he’s a much better person than I, I appreciate and respect how optimistic he can be, and how much fun he can create out of a situation which is actually rather void of hope.
I am 20 years old, and this is the first time I’ve had a bedroom that I could not touch all four walls at once. I am a legal adult and I have an entire learning experience on how school works ahead of me. I am meant to be able to move out, yet I know nothing about getting a job, interacting in social situations, what social situations even exist, how people live- oh but at least I know how to get all the way to the other side of the country from memory, and a lifetimes experience in carrying blocks of firewood and buckets of water to and from the trailer, how to put up tents, awnings, pack an entire hone away so things don’t all fall and smash on the floor oh joy. I can climb a tree of any kind, but I can’t figure out for the life of myself how to behave in public. What do I do if I’m no longer a nomad??? I know a lot of crafts, a lifetime of free time outdoors and well, I have decent coordination. I have found myself in the possession of craft equipment of every kind! And I stress about how much money is the amount one living in a house is supposed to make ? But I definitely have enough going for me in that department that I can make at lease some money if needed.
That aside... I figured out all the things wrong with our family out in the sticks, on my own. It stemmed from simply... wishing we could have less fights. I figured out what causes a fight. Any fight, and eventually the solution- to just about any fight. I made sense of it but no one else seemed to be okay with the whole thing, my pitch for a peaceful family home fell flat on its face in front of such a stubborn set crowd. It took a long time, but one day, at the age of 15 I got my younger brother on board, by telling him that I was on his side- no matter what we were arguing about! I still would always care about him as a person, and in approaching him about issues or calling out a problem, I was never attacking him as a person but asking for his hand in help to resolve what was actually a fairly simple issue. It worked! We barely fought hard since. If I could convince my own brother, the very same brother who has wounded me by hurling stones as I ran from his wrath, who had beat me to the ground with whichever weapon was his favourite at the time, who I had bled so much red and cried so many tears over for so many years of my life was finally truly my friend, and cared about me too. All I had had to do was... persevere through seemingly limitless mental and physical suffering- but I digress- it was worth every time trying when I finally saw success. My ... dad... was going to be a lot harder and dear God was I a fool to ever try to question a THING that he had done, how I wish I could go back in time and run a red hot knife through the guts of SOMEBODY, be it him or my younger self, I just regret everything. And I can’t think of a thing I could have done to... get out... but now we have and it feels so out of place. It’s so out of place, so strange to finally be away now. Now that my arms don’t look like arms, and my thighs, well we’ll just leave those under my skirt where they belong. I should be dead... but I’m not. I’m not really glad, it just feels wrong. I would have chosen this outcome about a decade ago, maybe even five years ago although it would have been a stretch but now? I wouldn’t have chose this, us leaving for... well the first successful time- no. I would have chosen for it to stop. Be undone. Never have happened in the first place. A Reset Button. A sweet metallic flavoured death.
I can’t get over just how much I have-
Just how little others have-
Bled in this lifetime... it makes no sense to me that my blood supply didn’t run out. Why didn’t it run out...??? As if I’m emotionally immortal, and nothing that happens to me will do damage beyond torture. Who in their right mind chooses eternal torture over death? I mean, myself apparently, because I’m still freaking here. But my mum got out. And so did my brother. I can not believe how different they are behaving already. I can’t wrap my head around these ideas... I was the one who wanted to leave, yet it happened so late that I have no idea what to do with it anymore. I don’t... want it anymore. It wasn’t worth it. People say funny things, ‘one day you’ll be glad you didn’t kys’ that day hasn’t come in all of 20 years, I regret all of it. It’s Unfixable and... I’m not glad that I got out alive.