A fucking freewrite, I guess. Bagels peer pressured me into posting it *sobs*.
Please don't quote this whole thing. Or even a bit. If you do quote to respond, just snip it all down.
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Sometimes growing up means learning that some people in your life just aren't right for you.
They may have been your best friend for years, or friend for just a few moments. But there's this time where it just
clicks that maybe they are toxic and they demand too much from you when you're already worn too thin.
It sucks to realize this, especially when you've both done so much for each other. But when they like to rub in your face all the shit they've done for you, like there's a tally they keep somewhere in their 'I'm A Good Friend, I Swear' notebook and you're falling behind and you just can't
quite keep up and
you need to do this for
me to be
even--
It's bullshit. You see it now, you realize that after years that's how it is, that's how it is has been, and you're sick and tired of it.
You've done loads for everyone, and some have returned the favor. But combine that stress with the daily stress of your anxiety or depression or what-have-you and you're just fucking tired.
You don't want to deal with this bullshit anymore.
It just happens.
You're sick of it, sick of them, sick of their fucking attitude towards you and everything and you love them, you really, really do but you fucking hate them at the same time for acting how they do and expecting everyone to fawn over them like the fucking little children they are.
They text you, they talk to you. "I'm just so sad. All these things are wrong. Nobody is there for me."
Hello? I'm sitting right in front of you.
"No one loves me or ever listens to me!"
Before you would nod and try to reassure them that you loved them, that you're there for them.
But you see it now. You see how fucking full of shit they are.
Fuck you, then.
And you hate feeling this way. You feel sick to your stomach about it. You love them. These people are your family and friends. You want them to be happy and feel joy and feel loved. You want to do this for them. You want to help make them happy.
You're conditioned to do this. This is how you grew up. Good girl, bad girl, don't bite the hand that feeds. Make them all happy. It's what you're here for, after all. You're lucky to even have a home, have a family, friends, clothes, food. Be grateful. Hold it all close.
But you don't want to hold it close. You want to break free. You want to meet happier people, talk to people who aren't so fucking childish, you don't want to be a fixer anymore.
You want to drop it all. Fuck it. Who cares? No one really cared about how you felt all these years. The idea of therapy met with terrible resistance, the idea of medicine met with a wall, a dead stop. You don't need that. You'll feel worse. How's therapy? Good, right? Okay, cool, now about me...
You want to do what you want. You want to do it freely, without caring what your family will think, what mother will think, what your father will think. You aren't reckless. You just want to be an adult. An actual adult. You want to feel the struggle, you want to buy your own things, own them. This is mine, and mine alone. I worked for this.
You feel ungrateful. Sad. Angry.
So fucking angry. Fuck them, fuck you, fuck me, fuck fuck fuck. Anger 19 years strong, growing stronger. They don't care what they've done, the blame lain somewhere else. In her, in him, mostly in you! How dare you. How dare you exist.
Anger. Leave
me alone. Leave me alone! I am not a plaything. I have feelings, I do. I have thoughts, I really do. I want to speak. I can't speak, shame showing in my face. I have nothing of worth to say, and no one to blame this for. I can't blame them. They won't apologize. Ever. Not on the deathbed, not in the face of accusation. They'll all think you're crazy.
They already do. Your family talks about you like you're this fragile thing, and maybe you are. Maybe you are, but once you break, and you will break, you ARE breaking, they will face what they've made. They will face the person they broke, they fucked over, they guilted, they molded unwittingly. Anger 19 years strong.
Anger transforms into anxiety, anxiety into tears and shaking palms and pain in the chest and racing thoughts and wanting to die and feeling helpless and useless and you can't speak, just fucking say something you stupid asshole.
Maybe you're just making it up? You thought about it before, but reassured after therapy appointment after therapy appointment, you just grow angrier.
This is unfair. You never fucking asked for this. You don't deserve this. You are just a person, a girl, you didn't do anything wrong, what did you do?
You don't want to dwell on this. You don't want to deal with this. You want to be fixed, like a broken vase made almost new. Barely noticeable cracks. But the glue is put on slowly, and it takes forever to dry. Sometimes the pieces fall away and need to be repaired again.
But you will be your own savior. You can't depend on them, you can't depend on any of them. You can accept the help of your new friends, the ones who understand your anger and you sadness. Who know it fondly. You accept their help, their words of kindness. You learn to love yourself, even a little. You're a fucking awkward little nerd. You like video games a little too much. So what?
You have to do this. You have to get better for yourself. You need this.
You need to prove them all
wrong. This isn't revenge. No. This is building yourself back up in better shape than they could have, had they gone through what you have gone through.
You're so strong. You're so strong, look at all you've done. You accept your anger, your sadness, everything they've done to you. All the ways they broke you. It hurts to think about. The way you were a pawn in a game, and the only real loser was you. But look at you. You lived. You didn't go through with all those times you held the pills, the times you held the razor and didn't want to let go. The times you were crying alone on your bedroom floor, hoping it would just
end, that your heart would get your head's message and just let go, scratching at your arms and legs until they were raw because what else was there to do? You grew up.
You're not totally okay, and you might never be. There will always be those cracks.
But look at you. You want to make something of yourself. Something no one around you ever thought you would be.
Little girl, about to take 19 years of pure anger and hatred and make something of it. Something beautiful. You can do it. You have to do it. You have to. You can't give up, not now. After all this, you can't. You can't, you can't, you can't.
Some of us have to grow up sometimes, and so if I have to, I'm gonna leave you behind.
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it's pretty stupid.
edit: oh god it's so fucking long.
. And no, contrary to what he said, I won't be buying one and letting him use it. I don't want a rift. End of story. Now stop telling me to get one goddammit.
