MissJanie (2016-08-25 03:07:32)

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mom's a pothead.
dad is still never around.
many people that live near me are heads.
confederates. i live in in virginia.
over-religious family.

eh, i count my blessings tho

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Vectrex (2016-08-31 06:42:45)

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Life is one of those things people tend to over-simplify so they can understand it, which can damage their idea of what 'Life' means. Honestly, what is 'Life' to you? Your answer is likely to be different from everyone elses, because everyone percieves things in a different way.

My life doesn't have enough Lemon Loaf in it, so I give it 2 national treasures, 1 jack black, and half a spider donut.

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MissJanie (2016-09-01 02:18:24)

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^ i like this guy

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Boo (2016-09-01 04:31:51)

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I'm in depressed mood right now so I guess I'll go in a detailed explanation / rant about why I sometimes want to die.

My dad and brother seem to not know what boundaries are and make fun of various things I'm rather sensitive about. (My speech impediment, really.)

Along with that, they are also sarcastic. I am too, but my brother is hard to tell whether or not he's being sarcastic or just a little like usual.
Call it stupid or over sensitive, but I still remember one time my arm was hurting badly so I put it into a position like a robot arm.

When my dad saw me doing that he told me I looked retarded. I mean, I'm usually okay with other people throwing the r slur around (even though I've only used it once or thrice in my lifetime.) but my dad wasn't saying it the way he usually says his little jokes in, and I wasn't trying to do anything dumb. My arm just hurt so I did what made it feel okay. I couldn't help but frown. 
Another incident that makes me really sad is the fact my dad would constantly dismiss my sadness when my Yoshi 3DS had water damage, preventing me from playing on it or, most importantly, drawing vent art on it. Thus I was depressed and had no way to express it thoroughly and was constantly crying. Surprise surprise, my dad never once even asked why I was so sad, why I was so attached to it, didn't think I actually used the damned thing for a real reason. He'd ignore all my choked out cries that I had friends on there when I could hardly make any in real life.
By now I'm mostly going on a rant about my dad, mainly because most of the things that make me sad involve the men of my family. 

And yet another bad experience is when we all were coming back from swimming in a lake. When I saw a pretty flower in the grass I wanted to pick it and show my dad so I did. I picked a handful of them and told my dad to look what I got him. He was on the phone for his business and I was trying to silently get his attention. I called him twice and showed him for a quick second when he asked why I was giving him weeds and to hurry up. 

Another time I was drawing some presidents for my middle school history assignment.
He told me to print pictures but I said that I wanted to draw them and was allowed, this kept on going for a while until it ended up with him tightly holding my hand against the smooth cut table and his speaking through gritted teeth to print pictures. I was choking out that I was allowed to draw and then he told me to show him. He thought I was going to draw stick figures or something, but I drew realistically. He acted nice from then on and told me they were good. He didn't apologize for making me cry though, like he never does. 
I always feel guilty whenever I tell myself I hate him considering he's my father.

I cry whenever someone raises their voice at me, I hate it when people yell at me. 

My mom isn't innocent, either. But I can only recount once she laid her hands on me and that was in a car ride. I think she apologized.

She forced my brother and I's cats outside. Both of them were lost. My brother's, Winter, died. 
Mine, Diamond, escaped. She was the best cat I've ever had by myself and she was gone. I still remember her hissing at me when I had to force her into the sunroom.

It feels bad.

I discovered Winter's dead stiff body when I was home from school one day. To make it worse, that was a few days after Diamond escaped and during the way home I was happy that at least I had her. 
Once my mom told me that she promised herself she'd never cause another one of me or my brother's pet's death again. That just made me feel really bad.

Sometimes I really wish a Heaven does exist. Then at least I can look forward to seeing my cat again and have her butt her head against me, like she used to.

Sorry for rambling, but that did really get a heavy load of sadness off of me.

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PANZERFAUST (2016-09-01 05:00:09)

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My cat's name is Winter.

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Boo (2016-09-01 05:03:19)

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My brother's Winter was a Siamese cat, and she was Diamond's twin.

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PANZERFAUST (2016-09-01 06:45:26)

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Ya' know, I could hate life for a lot of reasons. Because my mom doesn't care about me (or herself for that matter), because I was sexually assaulted a few months ago, because my last hit of acid wasn't potent, because a lug from my snare drum just popped off and hit me in the face less than an hour ago, etc.. But in all honesty, I don't think I have the right to hate life when so many people have it worse than me. I'm not talking about children in Africa, but rather people I see almost every day.

There's someone that's very close to me, who I look up to whenever I feel like life sucks. Her name is/was Olivia. Olivia was born into a very abusive family. Her parents - mother and father - used to beat her, sometimes to the point where she'd become unconscious, among other things which I'm not going to talk about. Her father was a drunk, wasting all his money on booze, and by the end of every month there wouldn't be any food for her to eat.
One day one of the teachers at her school noticed that she wasn't performing well in class because she wasn't getting enough sleep. At this point Olivia was 7 years old. The issue of her not sleeping well was a rather large one to her teacher, and a report was eventually filled with social services.
Quickly after social services got involved they realised how bad her situation was, and they moved her to various foster homes. If you know anything about foster homes, you'd know that a good share of them aren't much better than the home she was coming from. This continued for about a year until she was adopted by a Chinese family (whom she still lives with).
By this point her life was getting better - or at least it wasn't as bad as it was. But she still had problems at home such as her new parents not being able to speak English well, and for the most part not being able to understand her. She was also diagnosed with chronic depression and was being put on various different medications that ultimately just made her feel worse.
Around the age of 12 she started getting bullied a lot at school, the main reason being her race - she was white in a school that was all Asian. At the age of 14 she was contemplating suicide because of how bad the bullying was getting. Her parents moved her to a private school.
Go forward a few months, the Vancouver School Board went on strike, and my father moved me to a private school that's linked to the one Olivia was going to. I share some of the same classes with her and we become close friends.
Eventually we talk about our past and why we're at this school. Skipping the dialog, I encouraged her to go see a therapist since her family had the money to, and she eventually did.
Skip forward to now, Olivia is 16. She now goes by Blue because her birth name bothered her, as well as making a few other changes to her life. Now she's doing great. She has a job and generally gets good grades in school.

So I figure that if someone can turn around a life that's this horrible into something positive, what is there really for me to complain about? Sure, my mom doesn't care, but she doesn't beat me. I may have been sexually assaulted, but it's not a regular occurrence. I think my life is pretty good overall.


Sorry for the wall of text. Thank you if you read the whole thing.

This post has been edited one or more times, the last time was:
2016-09-01 06:58:21

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TapRoot0ak (2016-09-01 14:02:01)

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Kms.

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