rambling self admitance

when i was in middle school, i was an inexperienced woman. i never had the luxury of being a kid, not that i couldn't, but because i didn't want it. i put a lot of pressure on myself to mature, not be a girl, to be able to be 'one of the boys'. i saw kids my age playing games, running around, doing homework. but i always thought myself higher than them, rationalizing every little thing. i had a lot of anger and i didn't know what to do with it. i saw my mom, how she treated me and our family, and i simply copied her. when i was very young i worshiped her. eventually she grew tired of being nice, (if she ever was, i do not quite know) and thought i was old enough for the real world. she yelled at me, made me feel small. ran me into my room with the threats of spankings. i would get angry and throw everything. i`d hurt myself, throw a fit and fall asleep crying. she would pass it off as me just being a selfish child. it around this time i started to gravitate towards my father. when my mother would throw a fit, he`d scoop us up and take us out to do errands, eat ice cream, buy us candy. i had always like him, but i looked forward even more to the months when he would be home with us. i`d cry on the nights he had to leave and i`d hear his voice sometimes when i was alone. my dad knows more than anyone what it`s like to fear a parent. his dad was in the military, strict and not afraid to punish. i don`t know a lot about his childhood, but what i do know is relatively normal. he struggled, his sister was always the favorite. his mother used to pay him to eat spinach. he was a nerd. his friends were trustworthy though most of them died young. he found refuge in pot when he was sixteen, or so he says.(i think it was before that.) when he was seventeen he found lsd and mushrooms and coke. he told his mother fuck you and decided to just be himself.they sent him off to the military when he gave up on himself, he partied and just wanted to be happy. he had a kid but didn't know about it. he met my mom and reluctantly married her. she sent him off to school. he found work and he loved her. and had kids to keep her happy. all of these things are important because our parents lives map out our own. i don`t know anything about my mother, i don't know what made her what she is. i want to be sorry for hr because i should, but i don`t. she is judgmental and jumps to conclusions. closed minded and weary. i struggled when i was a preteen, because i knew how alike we were. i tore my brains out thinking of ways to become something, anything but the wretched hollow thing she had become. it was around this time i stopped calling her my mom, but instead calling her by her name. Cara. i reasoned with myself and thought of ways to stop my anger, but all i ever could come up with was suicide. i was too cowardly for this route, however . my only explanation was to blame my parents for ever meeting. i began to hate my dad, for no reason but for creating me. i hated the old women that told me how much i was like my parents. i had spent my whole life dreaming of an escape, to leave and never return. i know when i go to collage, or wherever i end up, i won`t come back to this place. i found love and it nearly killed me. hell, sometimes she still does on lonely nights. i learned for the most part that every comfort people muster up are lies, and i`m guilty of that myself. i wound up alone on empty paths with just a lighter in my pocket and a couple of joints. i realized what i needed wasn't a lover, but a friend. people told me that i would be appreciated when i got older but my purity and my selflessness has become a curse. i`m at war with myself, but that`s okay, for it`s better than feeling nothing at all. i get on alright, i guess.