Journal -

I don't know anymore

What I'm about to say today might sound mean to some, or inconsiderate, selfish, childish or naïve, but why should I care what those think?

It's sad to say that I am happy and have a nice day when my father isn't home. There's 95% less yelling, the house seems more peaceful and content. When he is home it's like trying to tip toe around barefoot with no shoes on in a room covered in broken glass... you are going to get cut. I've grown up learning that it is just best to bite your tongue, not to complain about a thing and just to keep quiet. 'Don't speak unless spoken to'. Though no one in the house has said that it's like an unspoken rule when he is home. When things don't go how he wants it to the a burst of angry yelling. And he just loves being a smart ass. A small insignificant example is watching t.v. He gets tired of commercials and wants it muted during that time but as soon as the show comes back on its 'wow I wish I could hear'. Or if he has the controller and something is said to him he gets frustrated and angry. Another example of unnecessary yelling would be when my father and mother will be talking and its quiet cause he is thinking and my younger brother absentmindedly giggles and says aloud “i like this commercial”. Then my father will rawr “DON'T INTERRUPT ME! WHY DO YOU ALWAYS TALK WHEN I AM!?” It's always these lil things but lil things add up. I feel so tired and warn out, like I've just been fighting and fighting and now I'm just done. 18 years I've been listening to this, and its seem to be getting more and more over the top, his ridiculousness. Anger for no reason and nobody is able to say anything about it? Always on the defensive like a frightened animal trapped in a corner, has to bite and claw it's way out. I've learn to dread the time he is home, my nearly uncontrollable coldness to him just angers him more. Don't get me wrong, I love my father. He can be a good person, he is intelligent and can seemingly fix anything, or at least figure out what exactly is wrong. I just can't handle being around him too long anymore. Biting your tongue and the strength it takes to be respectful is exhausting, and just leaves me in an even more frustrated state. Manipulation of words and abuse in authority over the house isn't beneath him. Always being told i'm a baby and to get over things when I've never even made a response, never said a thing.

The scary thing? I share his blood. Part of him is in me and I struggle everyday not to burst with anger like him. I refuse to be anything like him. Tremaine helps me, I tell him all my frustration and it helps talking it out. He teaches me not to get angry when I get frustrated but just to explain things to him, to be open with him. Something that is hard for me to learn, because it's the opposite of what I've done all my life. I've always kept things in just swallowed everything that came my way, and every few months had a couple nights where I just cried and cried until I could cry no more. I've had anxiety attacks, pangs of loneliness so strong it just makes you want to rip your heart out. A few days of this and then a few days afterward I'm nothing but a zombie, numb to everything, cold to everyone. My poem “Alone” was written during one of these bouts. That's why it is written awkwardly, that's how I wrote it down, and I didn't want to change that. No one knows about these but Tremaine, he is the only one I rely on to let in. I tell my self constantly to get over things, “people out there go through much worse what is wrong with you?” I wish I knew.... 

What irritates me more about my parents, particular my father, is their blindness. The other day I was so frustrated when he asked me if I was depressed. I am the happiest I have ever been now that I have someone to open up to. How can he ask me that now when 5,6 years ago I was suicidal, so severally depressed, and they never seemed to notice anything wrong? 

But I'll do what I always do and let it melt to the back of my head, another cut forgotten.