f i l l i n g i n b l a n k s

"f i n e."

I used to never be this way. I used to be genuinely happy and enjoy life and being around others, but as time as gone by I can't help but feel out of place and as if life itself isn't necessary. There have been just as many days where I have found myself wanting to hurt myself, as there have where I have wanted to live life to the fullest.

I'm sure this change in thinking can be attributed to many things like school, responsibility, growing up, and the constant evolution of everyone and everything around us; however, I don't really believe it is these things that have led me to this never-ending cycle of existential crises. While having to grow up before I suppose I was ready is definitely a large factor in my rather pessimistic thoughts, I have found myself blaming my environment. I have never been able to find a group of friends that I feel I can count on and trust. I did not grow up in a nurturing environment. Yes, their have been moments where I have been with a group of people and feel incandescently happy, but those moments, at least in my life, are rare.

From what I can recall, I've never been able to be somewhere and not feel judged, hated, and like a burden. It's incredibly hard for me to go to school and go out with friends and do anything with any form of social obligations because of these insecurities. These insecurities, like with many people, are what occupy the majority of my thoughts. I'll be honest, this is not an easy thing for me to talk about, despite what people think.

I am open about the struggles I have faced because I know it is a part of who I am, and, for the most part, it is all in the past. I honestly don't care if people know that my dad is an alcoholic, or if they know my older brother overdosed, or even if they know I have, and am, struggling with self harm. I don't care if people know these things because, once again, it is what as made me who I am, but who I am now is not someone who has turned a blind eye to this crucibles. I know that the only way for me to improve my character is to face my demons, which is a pretty darn difficult task itself.

As much as I wish I could say I have overcome these things, I haven't. I struggle everyday with wanting to run into my bathroom and cry and take a razor and slice my wrist—even if nothing bad has necessarily happened that day. It doesn't take much for me to get into this mindset. As superficial as it may sound, not getting a reply via text messaging or snapchat makes me feel like I've annoyed said person or just need to stop. One snarky remark can set me off. Any random comment, whether it is an intentional insult or not, can make me want to cry into a pillow for hours on end. It's everything that happens on a day-to-day basis that makes me die a little bit inside. Most days I find it hard to get out of bed because I cannot stand the thought of seeing people and knowing that if I get close to them it will only leave me broken. Real relationships scare me, too. I have seen so much pain caused out of "love." I have heard so many stories of people thinking they're in love to find they've been cheated on or worsE.I've been in so many situations where people who have claimed to be there for me have left me high and dry, and I have seen so many people get hurt from being in relationships, and I'm not at that point in my life where I can deal with any more complications. I've never been in a romantic relationship, nor do I plan on being in one over the next couple of years, because before I can put myself into a position where I have that person to love and enjoy life with, I need to learn how to do that with myself. And as amazing as the concept of being in a relationship sounds, I can't risk hurting myself anymore than has already been done by so many other people that have walked in and out of my life.

And to be honest, I am, by nature, a jealous person. I get jealous of the people around me who seem to have their lives the way they want and in order. I can't stand it when people talk about their lives, and they don't see just how easy they have it: That they haven't had to grow up seeing two parents want to kill each other because of just how much they hate each other, or that they didn't have to be in third grade and know what a drug overdose meant, or even know what it feels like to walk into your house and know your mom might kick you out because she has threatened it so many times. I hate it when people talk about their ever-so-loving families because I'll be found in the background, slowly sinking into my own shadow, knowing that being in a family where you are loved is a privilege, not a right. While I may have never been abused in some of the ways I know so many people have had to deal with, I have been there. Now this is something I have never told anyone, but almost everything I remember is me beIng put down. I don't remember ever being told that I was worth it or loved or pretty. I was always told that I was unwanted, hated, fat, ugly, annoying, and a liar. Those are not the types of things an eight-year-old girl should hear. I remember my dad walking out on my family the day after my fifth birthday; I always knew things weren't all right, but since I was a child, and everything I knew up until that point, was slowly unraveling I assumed I was to blame.

My childhood memories are not pleasant. I have so many memories of my mom screaming at me telling me that I was worthless and throwing things, like blowdryers, phones, and hairbrushes to name a few, at me. I have flinched away from so many people when they have yelled or pretended to throw a punch so many times. I get scared when my mom yells to this day because of all of these memories. When she gets angry and starts screaming hysterically, that is when the insults and threats start. My mother was never the mother I wanted. I always wanted the mom my friends had; the mom who made their lunches and would say that they loved you no matter what, but, unfortunately, I had the opposite. I had the one whom I can only think to compare to Cinderella's evil stepmother.

I have always envied those who have close and healthy relationships with their siblings because I can barely recall a day where I have had one of my siblings not make me want to cry. For some unknown reason my mother decided to have five children, the youngest two probably attempts to save a failing marriage. I am the middle of the five, now four. I don't care how awful this makes me sound, but, to keep it short and simple, my older brother became a drug addict and overdosed many times, and eventually he died from an overdose While some people may see me as an emotionless robot for phrasing something as terrible as that the way I did, but to me, I don't know how to not seem like that with that matter. Yes, I cried when I was told and at his funeral, but I had virtually no relationship with him at any point in my life; he was six years older than me and moved in with my dad when he was in high school. My older sister hates me and seems to always have felt that way, and my two younger siblings are annoying and irrelevant.

Taking all of this into consideration, it is apparent that I believe that life is difficult and superfluous, but the explanation for me sharing a portion of my life story with the whole world is not for me to just let everyone know about my life, but to prove a point. When I am asked how I am doing I say, "I'm fine." It doesn't matter that I am sitting on the floor crying or have just been told that my brother is dead, that's what I say. Now think about it, how many times do you here someone say that they're "fine"? 

i hope you liked this first part. here's a poem by julie martinez that reminded me of what you just read:

"but you seemed fine?"

ah, see, but there's that word "seemed." Yes, 

I may have "seemed" fine, and yes there may be

a smile on my face at each passing day, or a 

wave hello in the halls; but I can guarantee you

with every inch of flesh in my being that there 

is absolutely nothing "fine" about me. Seemed is

a tricky word you see, because things aren't

always exactly what they "seemed" to be.

(Julie Martinez)