The difference between venting and insulting

(You don't actually have to read this. It's just something I wrote a couple minutes ago after a huge confrontation with my grandfather. I want to post it in order to convince myself someone is actually listening to me. I have no one to talk to about any of this. So, um, I would really appriciate if anyone would be willing to listen to me, although I completely understand if you don't. Could you leave a comment if you are willing to talk to me, though?)

The difference between “venting” and screaming?

Apparently not that much.

You make me feel like a worthless piece of shit
that can’t do anything right.

oh, but you’re just “venting”
You only do that to the “ones you love the most”

No, grandma, stop making excuses.
I don’t care if he screams at you too,
it’s wrong when he does it, no matter who he does it to.

He has no right to degrade, to look at me in disgust
as tears pour down my face at the slightest hint of confrontation.

Yes, I should have studied instead of watching a movie.

I fucked up.

Alright? I’m always fucking up and
I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment.

You want to know why I didn’t mention I was having problems before?

Because I’m afraid of you. That’s why.

Because I’m terrified of exactly what just happened.

You have this way of insulting me without having to call me names.

You make me want to kill myself.

You make me feel like I will never succeed, like no matter what I do, it’s wrong.

Why?

What’s the point?

Making me feel bad won’t make me work harder.

It will make me give up.

It will make me want to crawl beneath my sheets and never return.

Just sleep. Drift away. Stop living.

Like I did last year. Mom recognized my habit for what it was,

secretly watched me and made sure I didn’t kill myself in my sleep.

You know what?

I’m more afraid to tell you my mark in math class than to tell you I’m gay.

Kind of twisted, isn’t it?

I’m so terrified of having you stand in my face and tell me

“You can get angry, get upset, it won’t fix this.”

You’re the one making me upset, dumbass!

I can fix this on my fucking own, if you would just back up and let me be a fucking teenager.

You claim to realize I’m legally an adult in a few months,

but you treat me like a stupid child.

Like I can’t do anything on my own.

Like everything is my fault.

You know what? I take responsibility.

It is my fault I failed that test. It is.

But you didn’t fucking ask WHY.

You don’t care.

You only want to push me further and further

until I finally push myself off the cliff.

I’m not living with you in University.

I can’t.

I won’t make it.

I won’t survive.