FAOTBICDT

I've had enough. The sadness in me has turned nearly into a complete rage. I want to throw myself on the ground and begin kicking and screaming. I want to shout profanities into my pillow and punch my bed. I want to get into a car and speed angrily down the 60 and blast music until the speakers blow out or I get pulled over. I want to cry with someone who loves me. Someone who somewhat understands the kind of pain I'm going through. Who knows how unfair this is.

Faith. Last time I walked holding God's hand. I didn't doubt Him or question Him. I offered up every ounce of my suffering. But I'm so done. It doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense. I feel jerked around. Why would you do this? And this way? Why would you let me love Michael just so I couldn't have him forever? So he couldn't have me? Why would you take me away from Erin? Why can't my sister have the person who is supposed to protect her from everything? Or my brother who looks up to me so much? Why did you let me find another church that's giving me opportunities if I can't ever have them? What is wrong with you?

I'm not sure if you know this but I haven't had a good life. It hasn't been fulfilling. I'm emotionally damaged because my mom left me when I was in the third grade. Before then I had trouble socializing because I kept moving every damn year. I moved after first grade to AZ in the summer, a month into the school year I moved back to TX, then the following summer the exact same thing happened. I came back to TX again a month into the school year to start third grade and a few days later I woke up to find my mother gone and she had taken my sister. I'm not going to describe what that did to me because it doesn't matter. None of it matters. Beginning when I was 5 my mom began hitting me with wire hangers, and throwing me into closet doors. It was great fun. I somehow deserved every last bit of it even though I can promise you, I was a perfect child. The worst thing I did was I liked to hide in the clothes at department stores. I earned a leash for that one. Regardless, after third grade I was virtually ignored. My dad did his best but he was broken hearted and a drunk. I excelled in everything but nothing matted. My aunt took care of me but she had two kids of her own and too many problems too count. I just spent time in a tree, on the roof or in the streets. No one ever asked me when I was going to be home or probably even noticed when I was gone. I just made sure to tell my dad to take me to baseball practice during the season and that was that. A year later I saw my mom again. My father drove me to AZ to see her. Just a week earlier in the car he had informed me that she had a boyfriend and was pregnant. I remember almost jumping out of the car. Looking at my mom, a woman who hadn't spoken a word to me in over a year, standing next to some cowboy with a baby bump I was disgusted. I looked at the little girl sitting on the couch playing with a doll and my heart broke because I knew she had no idea who I was. I turned around and walked out the door.

After 5th grade I moved to AZ permanently. I was not happy about the move at all. I was miserable about it. I thought I was invisible before to my family? Yeah. I was invisible to the world from 6th-8th grade. My suicide attempt in 7th grade made some noise I suppose. Cutting every damn day. Developing an eating disorder. Yet I strangely manged 4 MVPs, and above a 4.0 GPA. Still not fucking good enough. Freshman year. When I found love? hah. Fuck that too. 16. Brain tumor. Oh? But my parents couldn't handle it so I got shipped away. It was a cover up. I was forced to deal with my pain alone. Always fucking alone. For time sake let's skip a few years. Taylor Swift's Dear John hits home to me more than it should. Though my story has more of a twisted ending. We're even the same age, 19. This guy John picked me up one night, and proceeded to try to rape me. I had a seizure. Yeah. Stress much? He dumped me at a park. The next day he killed himself. 21, brain tumor again. I even died for a little bit. I live but I lose everything. St. Anne fucking screws me over. The throw me away because just all my life indicates I don't matter. Oh, and did I mention my ex boyfriend Jeremy broke up with me because I wouldn't sleep with him? And my other ex Chris abused me? Yeah. Oh and now? I'm fucking dying.

Sure. Other people probably have it worse. I should stop having a pity party. But I'm tired. Don't I deserve to live a happy life? Don't I deserve some good?

I'm so fucking mad. I can't do this. It doesn't make sense.