I told my mom I was bullied in sixth grade

So today I went with my mom to the theater to see this monologue which was supposed to be hilarious. We got lost and it was a lot of fun, trying to find the theater and all. The monologue was absolutely hilarious and it ended late, so we took the bus home from the city.

We went to this Irish restaurant that has really good food and there we began to talk about nothing and everything, just a good conversation. I actually get along with my mother, but sometimes she can be really close minded. This is where everything started:

There was this One Direction music video I hadn't seen, the ones with the red noses, and my mom began to say just how much she would love a boy like that to end up with me. In her words, I repeat "So clean and pretty and from a good family." And to be honest, I got really pissed. Because clean for her means preppy, pretty means dashing and devastatingly handsome, and from a good family means a rich family for her, from what I can guess. Either that or from an elegant and aristocratic family. She loves those.

So I began to explain to her stories about heavy metal kids, about the beauty of tattoos (I told her that the 1D guys also had some!) and she said that she didn't like them anymore. So we began a discussion about tattoos, and judging from the first sight, and somehow it all ended up with bullying and kids having mental problems because of it. And she told me, with her mouth crooked and a mighty expression "Now you'll tell me you've been bullied, uh!?" and I told her no, I don't know why. So she turned away and I told her I had been bullied, which isn't a lie. I still am, but I was in 6th grade. And I threw at her how she didn't notice, and she said:

"Well, how am I supposed to notice? I'm busy, you know!"

And that literally just made me break. Because, even though I know that maybe I'm expecting too much, or I'm really selfish or something, I really did expect my family to notice. I don't know, I mean, she's my mother, right? She's supposed to know stuff about me, who I am and all. And she takes care of me, brings me to the theater and gives me food to eat and a place to stay and I'm grateful, I really am. But with each day that passes I feel like I'm drifting apart form my family just too much. I feel more alone every day. And there are more fights breaking out and I literally have to make my ears explode to drown out all the fights.

And I told my mom how I was my own bully now, how I hated myself and how she didn't notice, and I know I upset her but I don't know what the fuck happened. I exploded, I guess, I've been bottling up things too much. I do that. I keep it all to myself and I smile so hard that they actually believe it. And god fucking damn it, I want to die. I feel fat and useless and disgusting and like the ugliest, most selfish bitch in the world. I am such a fucking loser.

And I want to cut but I can't even do it, I don't have the fucking guts. The only thing I've had the guts to do is open a wound on my wrist that I got once, but that's it. And there's this teeny tiny scar and it's always calling out to me and all I can do is snap a rubber band on my wrist or just fucking scratch my arms and legs all over and I want to tear my skin apart because then people won't notice how fucking ugly and sick and disgusting and fat I am. And I hate myself, I really do.

And I've been losing weight and my mom and sister tell me so, but I don't see it at fucking all. And whenever they compliment me I get really nervous and I get snappy and I hate it, because they're complimenting me and all I can do is make a fight, start one. I want to lose weight. I want to be prettier. I want to be thinner, I want to be perfect and yet I can't because my personality is just fucking rotten. I'm the worst kind of human ever alive. Always thinking about me. Me, me, me, me, me, me, me.

And I'm really fucking sorry, okay? I'm sorry. They expect so much from me, they think I can do things, I can get things done right but I just can't. I can't. I really can't and I'm sorry I disappointed you. And all I can do is upset people when I want to make them happy. And all I have left at the end of the day is me and my mind and my eyes going to the window, or thinking if I should google how many pills I need to overdose or grabbing that razor from the bathroom and end it all but I'm such a fucking coward, I can't do it.

I can't commit suicide. I'm such. A fucking. COWARD. I hate myself. Godddd, if I could sleep forever I'd be happy for the rest of my life. I think about how many lives I've ruined and I just want to scream sorry. And I'm begging for your forgiveness, Mibba.

I want to say sorry to Micah for being so selfish with her and not listening when she was hurting because I was being selfish. I want to say sorry to Sree if I ever made her feel like she was alone and I hated her or something. I want to say sorry to all the blog editors for those bored posts I make in the middle of the night. I want to say sorry for Katie Mosing because I really like her and all I do is bother her, same with Noelle.

And I'm so fucking sorry for everything, really. About my stories, the lack of updates and the shitty chapters I've done lately. About my pictures, and the blogs and just everything. And I want to thank everyone who has tolerated me through these wonderful almost three years of Mibba. Really, I love you all, and I'm sorry for bothering you.
May 2nd, 2013 at 02:09am