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A story writing comp w/ Sylvia_.
I'm 8, sitting in a empty room playing a game. She walks in and I look up.
"Hey mom." I say.
"Hello." she replies. I turn back turns my screen and keep PvPing.
"...Your father is dead." she calmly says. Her face is blank. My heart drops. ...What? What do you mean, he's dead?! She leaves after that and leaves me in a confusion. My body is shaking. Screw the game. I wait, and wait. My father comes home and greets me with a smile and gives me lots of kisses. ...That's where the distrust started.
I'm 10 now. I've gotten used to her telling me, "He's dead." and "He's not here!" He always comes back home perfectly fine. All I do is create a shell around myself and sink into it like a baby bird too scared to leave her nest. The screams get louder and louder. The fear just starts to keep into my mind. Depression walked up to me like a lost puppy. I didn't know it's name and invited it in. Worse mistake I could ever do. It corrupts me like a plague. I'm constantly thinking, "go kill yourself." and "it's all your fault." Hate surrounds me. ...I'm getting used to the pain.
I remember walking around in a office. I hear the whispers around me as I hold my daddy's hand. "Is she depressed?" they whisper. I can tell, he doesn't like this. But he doesn't say anything. The world seems white and black. ...I wonder if this is how family life is suppose to be.
I'm 12. I listen to her fight. I hear her pick up the hammer and smash all the glass. I watch as she rips all the pictures of me, you, and him down. 'I'm scared,' I think. I hide in my room and listen as she slams all the doors. I listen as she screams at the top of her lungs. I watch as she throws her, who has never even been in America, out of the house. And I silently watch and do nothing but tell Father about it. I'm afraid, if I tell her to stop she'I'll probably beat me. I listen as Father yells at me and asks me why I didn't stop her. I don't answer.
I'm now 14. I say I'm over depression. Inside I tell myself, "if you can't remember what exactly happened, then you never had depression." I always telling myself in my mind that I never had depression and I had a nice childhood.. Because my life is nothing compared to others. Like I never found the knifes in her room, like I don't hear her laughing while staring at the walls. Like I never saw how they took her away and threw her in a car. And of course, like how she told me to go kill myself. I'm telling myself there's people that has suffered more than you. That I'm so weak. That if I was strong, then I would of been dead by now. That my father has suffered more than I have. He's saying he stays only because of me, but doesn't he know, how much I feel like some bridge? Some damn link that will only cause suffering in the end. I'm so cruel, because if he leaves I don't know if I'll be able to survive.
Sitting silently in a school with happy friends. Never being able to tell someone the whole story and how I really feel. Therapists? Haha, no, I can't tell someone who I don't know at all my story. Why would they even truly care? Even as I say this, I want to tell someone everything but I can't. Because I had a "happy childhood." I'm afraid to tell someone because they might of suffered more than I have. Sudicial thoughts? So what? Wanted to cut myself but never had the courage? Who cares? They might of been physical abused or had drunkard parents! That's so much worse compared to me.
So, in the end,
They will never know the feelings of me. You wouldn't either. So, no one will ever know the complete, true, feelings of this helpless little girl.
I'm 8, sitting in a empty room playing a game. She walks in and I look up.
"Hey mom." I say.
"Hello." she replies. I turn back turns my screen and keep PvPing.
"...Your father is dead." she calmly says. Her face is blank. My heart drops. ...What? What do you mean, he's dead?! She leaves after that and leaves me in a confusion. My body is shaking. Screw the game. I wait, and wait. My father comes home and greets me with a smile and gives me lots of kisses. ...That's where the distrust started.
I'm 10 now. I've gotten used to her telling me, "He's dead." and "He's not here!" He always comes back home perfectly fine. All I do is create a shell around myself and sink into it like a baby bird too scared to leave her nest. The screams get louder and louder. The fear just starts to keep into my mind. Depression walked up to me like a lost puppy. I didn't know it's name and invited it in. Worse mistake I could ever do. It corrupts me like a plague. I'm constantly thinking, "go kill yourself." and "it's all your fault." Hate surrounds me. ...I'm getting used to the pain.
I remember walking around in a office. I hear the whispers around me as I hold my daddy's hand. "Is she depressed?" they whisper. I can tell, he doesn't like this. But he doesn't say anything. The world seems white and black. ...I wonder if this is how family life is suppose to be.
I'm 12. I listen to her fight. I hear her pick up the hammer and smash all the glass. I watch as she rips all the pictures of me, you, and him down. 'I'm scared,' I think. I hide in my room and listen as she slams all the doors. I listen as she screams at the top of her lungs. I watch as she throws her, who has never even been in America, out of the house. And I silently watch and do nothing but tell Father about it. I'm afraid, if I tell her to stop she'I'll probably beat me. I listen as Father yells at me and asks me why I didn't stop her. I don't answer.
I'm now 14. I say I'm over depression. Inside I tell myself, "if you can't remember what exactly happened, then you never had depression." I always telling myself in my mind that I never had depression and I had a nice childhood.. Because my life is nothing compared to others. Like I never found the knifes in her room, like I don't hear her laughing while staring at the walls. Like I never saw how they took her away and threw her in a car. And of course, like how she told me to go kill myself. I'm telling myself there's people that has suffered more than you. That I'm so weak. That if I was strong, then I would of been dead by now. That my father has suffered more than I have. He's saying he stays only because of me, but doesn't he know, how much I feel like some bridge? Some damn link that will only cause suffering in the end. I'm so cruel, because if he leaves I don't know if I'll be able to survive.
Sitting silently in a school with happy friends. Never being able to tell someone the whole story and how I really feel. Therapists? Haha, no, I can't tell someone who I don't know at all my story. Why would they even truly care? Even as I say this, I want to tell someone everything but I can't. Because I had a "happy childhood." I'm afraid to tell someone because they might of suffered more than I have. Sudicial thoughts? So what? Wanted to cut myself but never had the courage? Who cares? They might of been physical abused or had drunkard parents! That's so much worse compared to me.
So, in the end,
They will never know the feelings of me. You wouldn't either. So, no one will ever know the complete, true, feelings of this helpless little girl.
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1 Update Logs
Update #1 : by raisa 08/04/2017 9:45:08 pmAug 4th, 2017
story continued
ending wrapped
ending wrapped
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