Words and Me

Author's note: My A level creative writing coursework requires me to write a short story so here it is for you to judge =). I wrote it at 3am,which sounds like an excuse so never mind. Any feedback will be greatly appreciated. Thank you =)

                                                                                                              Words and Me

Not long left now. Eleanor Roosevelt once said ‘No one can make you feel inferior without your consent’ I’m still trying to figure out if she’s right. People are bullied all the time, made to feel like small insignificant beings. Is that how they want to feel? I remember a psychology lesson once on dispositional and situational attributes. It is all to do with why people behave the way they do. Is it to do with personality or their current situation? I argued personality. Some people prefer not to make waves, while others jump in head first at the deep end. Rather die then have someone else tell them what to do. I think I’m in the latter category. Maybe you do need to give someone permission to make you feel inferior.
              It hurts more than you know. I don’t think any amount of confidence can prepare you for mental torture. ‘The bigger they are, the harder they fall’. Right? If someone became so obsessed with destroying you it took over their life, there’s no way you could handle that. Who could? Not me! What if that person was you? Puts a whole new spin in things. In the words of Pink ‘I’m a hazard to myself’. I’m the only one who can get me. Not long left now.
              The hurt and the pain. I’m pretty. I think I’m pretty. I am pretty. Right? ‘The Flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and Beautiful of all’. I heard it in a movie once, can’t remember which one. I think it was Disney.  If that’s true, I must be a real diamond in the rough. The dictionary definition of adversity is ‘a state, condition or instance of serious or continued difficulty.’ I think 14 years of abuse counts as adversity. Mulan that was the movie.
              Tired of putting on a show. Everyone thinks my life is normal. I thought my life was normal, but it never was and I don’t think it ever will be. I don’t love myself and nobody’s going to love me because of it. I have too much emotional baggage for anyone to want to be weighed down. Too much work for anyone to be crazy enough to deal with. I thought he loved me, I didn’t know any better. ‘In a mad world only the mad are sane’ I like that quote, I think it explains my life. When you’re growing up and know only what goes on in your house everything seems like its normal. It’s only when you enter the sane world that you realize those mad people are just that.
              You don’t need tears to cry. I like to write down how I feel sometimes. ‘Dead paper.’ It’s just words and me. Sometimes it’s the best friend you can have because I can spew until my face is red and it’ll never get tired of my ranting. It’s weird that I find inanimate objects to be better company then people. I suppose it’s just my experiences because some people get along just fine. That would be something you learn from your parents though, probably. My mum left as soon as I was born and my dad’s resented me since that day. I’ve given up trying.
              Not something you can see. I hide everything about me from everyone around me. ‘To avoid criticism, do nothing, say nothing, be nothing.’ It’s easier to stay sane in my house if you live by that mantra. I can keep my mind away from his touch if I ‘be nothing.’ Realised it’s over quicker if I ‘say nothing.’ Hopefully he just ignores me if I ‘do nothing.’ I spend my time trying to blend in so I suppose I can’t condemn the children at school for ignoring me. I’ve bought it all on myself
              Tearing me up inside. I wonder if anyone will miss me when I’m gone. I do have friends don’t get me wrong. But we’re all too wrapped up in our own problems to really see what’s going on. We all have problems and that’s how I realized that we’re born alone, live alone and the die alone. No matter how many friends you have you can still be lonely because nobody knows the absolute real you, but you.
              It’s only hurting me. I have bouts of self-conceit which is what will lead to my self-destruction. So much so that I feel that at the age of 14 I’m so set in my ways they will never change. That’s why I should bring about the end of my life, before someone does it for me. I‘m not scared of death, relish into in fact. Anything to put an end to the daily abuse. He touches me when he’s not supposed to, I know it and so does he and the worst thing about it is that I thought we led a normal life up until a couple of years ago. I really thought he loved me.
              I’m turning 15 in 2 hrs and 17 minutes. I wonder if I’ll see my birthday although my heaving stomach is making me doubtful I think it’s disgusting how many household products are poisonous, although I doubt many people swallow white spirit for fun. The rooms spinning a bit, I’m hoping this means it’s almost over. My dinner’s lying on the ground next to me half digested; I wish it didn’t have to be like this. I wrote this poem earlier because I’m weird like that:

Not long left now
It hurts more than you know
The hurt and the pain
Tired of putting on a show

You don’t need tears to cry
Not something you have to see
Tearing me up inside
It’s only hurting me

It’s getting even closer
I think I’m getting scared
It’s too late to go back now
The time is getting near

Not long left now
It hurts more than you know
Need to stop the hurt and pain
It’s time to end this show