To say I’m hopeful is an understand. I’m hopeful that when you’re my age, that seeing my name appear randomly on your phone won’t feel like a burden. I’m hopeful that the thought of hugging me isn’t something that make’s you feel uncomfortable.. I’m hopeful, that when you hear a pear say, “I have the best parents in the world!” that you don’t think of me and scoff at how someone could actually love their parent(s) their much. I’m hopeful that when you grow older, you’ll realize that I tried my best, and that everything I do is with your best interest at heart. I hope that you’ll be patient with me, even if you don’t show it, because I’m still learning too. I hope that you never feel like anything less than the greatest part me, because if it weren’t for you, my life may have never taken direction. I hope that I tell you the right things when you need to hear them, and that you don’t resent me for not knowing how/when to say things. I hope that you’re never ashamed of me, and never take the small things for granted. I’m hopeful that you appreciate experiencing things for the first tine, together, as much as I know I will; like Disneyland or maybe a cruise, the possibilities of where I hope we’ll go are endless. I hope that I can push you to do better than I have, that you actually give a damn about school and get good grades. I hope that I never crush any of your dreams and only push you closer to your aspirations. I’m hopeful that your wildest dreams are greater than my imagination, and that you let me do everything in my power to help you achieve them. I’m also hopeful, that you’ll never use my own words against me. But in the end, I’m just hopeful that you wind up happy and that your health is never anything short of spectacular.
Recently, I was asked if I take the road most people take or one of my own. It’s been on my mind consistently soon the hours spent thinking about it turned to days. I’ve come to conclusion! I’ve never been on everyone else’s road. Not since grade school anyways. By the time I was about 10 years old I already knew pain, that was when my parents got divorced. I was happy about the divorce, but the results were enough to scar anyone who would’ve been in my shoes. My reason for being happy was because I thought the fighting would finally stop, words can not explain how wrong I was. In fact, it was just a new beginning to it. It was the start of me seeing things I wish I hadn’t, like getting into a truck with my drunk father who acted like he was going run over my injured mother. It was the start of the countless days where I waited for someone who never came. I was at my dads while he was either working or at the bar. So, eventually, my mother started picking me up from the time I woke up til about 8 at night. My father never knew, when he did know he’d call me to curse me out and demand that I can home. One night, when I was 12 years old and living with my mother, my father asked me to come stay the night. Reluctantly, I agreed. To my dismay, I’d been there alone since the morning and around 10 at night I decided to just go home. He was out drinking, and I knew it. Since then, he has cleaned up his act because he couldn’t stand knowing that his own child hated him. We have a decent relationship now. My mother is overall a good mom, but constantly reminds me “you’re why I’m not skinny” or “your siblings are so good at ___” but when she brags about me? It’s about things that are untrue. Ouch. When I was 15, there was this guy… At first I didn’t like him, he wasn’t attractive and was kind of weird. Eventually, he started telling me things that made me feel special even if I wasn’t the only girl he was telling them to (the other was my so-called-best-friend) this led to me wanting find common interests with him, soon enough, I did like him. Soon enough, I won. He was all mine. I wish I could take that decision back, he was horrible towards me! Not only did he emotionally abuse me, but he molested me. Although, I was too in “love” to do anything about it.
to be continued… (coming up: my history with suicide, my obsession, and who/how I am now)
I’ve learned many things from my parents. I’ve learned not to drink, not around the kids anyways, it only causes them pain. I’ve learned that when I have children, I want to hug them every day and tell them I love them every night. I hear about parents who do that and instantly become jealous seeing as I can’t hug mine without feeling invaded. It honestly freaks me out and makes me feel out of place. My aunt taught me, never fight in front of the kids. Mine always fought and it consistently broke my heart, I was happy when my parents got divorced. I’ve learned not to complain to people who aren’t my best friends, its stressful to hear every day knowing it’s about things you can’t do anything about. What’s worse, is not being able to tell that person anything. I’ve learned to support others opinions and choices, you have no idea how badly I pour my heart and soul into art, just to hear you compliment my siblings when they only do it as a hobby. Not only that, but showing me there’s but not even acknowledging mine when you see it. Seriously, I thought I was a horrible artist until I freehanded something a bit complicated and got it nearly exact without using an eraser. In middle school. I left a picture of a rose on the counter because I was incredibly proud of it… It got thrown away a week later. I’ve learned, to be myself. Nothing makes me more mad than you going out in public and bragging about lies. Even more so, when they’re about me. I know I’m not perfect, thou’ I’m not half as bad as I could be. You taught me how girls should look (blonde hair, blue eyed, tan skinned barbies) so I go for my own look because I don’t want to be like you. You’re so judgmental and unkind, that I hated myself so much I nearly committed suicide. That’s why I love everyone, no matter how big or small.