Animalistic Existence

Today is my eighteenth birthday.
In two months I’ll be shipped off to a base in Japan where I will start doing my formal training. Tch, like I haven’t already done five times the training that they will eventually ask me to do at the base.
So basically all the training that I will be “receiving,” will be a major waste of my time. My father has already made sure that I’m as tough as steel; especially my stamina and my upper body strength. If I take off my shirt, you can definitely see an obvious outline of my muscles. Honestly I have always thought that by now I’d have one of those bodies that women in body-building have, but I guess that they mostly use steroids to look like that or maybe I’m just lucky enough to still retain my feminine physique. But I’m definitely glad that I don’t look like that.
Japan. The place sounds nice enough, and it’s the home country of animes and manga. Maybe I can get a Naruto plushy or something cool like that when I go there.
You know, in my life there is this thing that I can’t explain no matter how much I try. Strangely enough I can actually talk and understand Japanese for some reason. My mom (before she ditched us) told me that after the accident when I was five, I only spoke Japanese until I was six. Can a person’s speech pattern just change like that when you fall from the second floor? I mean it’s strange because I was told that I fell on my feet, like a cat. So my head didn’t touch the ground in any way. Maybe it was the whole shock thing, at least that’s how the doctors explained it. Actually that makes perfect sense, since after that I couldn’t remember anything from my past; I couldn’t even remember the fall.
I guess that’s the mystery of my life; the life I had until I was thirteen. Somehow I feel irritated about the whole Japan deal though. I do realize that I’ll be free from my father, but it seems to me like I’m running instead. I don’t want to run. I want my name and my life back, because I bet even my brother wouldn’t like being impersonated by his little sister. This whole thing that my father is doing is sick, and also an insult to my brother. Doesn’t he realize that he is only causing pain? I bet if my brother knew this, he’d be rolling in his grave by now. But I’m at fault too.
I keep playing right into his sick games. I feel so pathetic and weak sometimes. Why can’t I just stand up for myself? I complain over and over but I never do something about it. Am I that afraid of going out on my own, or confronting my father? I myself don’t fucking get what my problem is. Am I really a masochist or something, because this whole deal is doing nothing but killing my psyche!
Whenever I come to these realizations, I get extremely angry and determined to just run. Yet after five minutes, I hear my dad’s voice and just sit back down and feel sorry for myself again.
I know it would be hard to just run away. My father has all the military and government connections to back him up, but I should at least try once. I don’t want to always ask “what if?”
But I do realize something. I cannot imagine myself being in this same position in ten, five, or a year from now. In a way, it’s like I can’t imagine that I might be forever a reanimation of my brother. Does that mean that I will eventually escape this hell hole? Is that what my mind is telling me to do?
Maybe it’s my minds way to protect me from becoming as delusional as my father. People sometimes plan to do something, and never do it in the end.
I love moments like these. I love when I question myself, because in a way I know that I haven’t disappeared yet. I can always find myself when I recall my life, and see my actions from a third point of view. It’s like I’m disconnected from my body. I can definitely hear my thoughts, and because I’m disconnected from my body, I am not reminded of my brother. I now realize that the virus that’s making me question my own existence is how I look. In a sense I’m so blind. But there is always the curse that because you realize something, it doesn’t mean you understands it. Cold reason isn’t enough to wake me up. People’s beliefs are scary. I believe I exist no more, yet I know what I’m saying sounds totally stupid.
Strange isn’t it? I can calculate my actions and thoughts so well, yet I can’t do anything to change my own way of thinking. I can’t make myself believe that I’m actually me, that I haven’t actually disappeared.
I’m so tired of this whole bullshit.
I just want to rest. Get some peace which I rightfully deserve. Heck sometimes I don’t even know what the hell I’m saying anymore. I certainly don’t know what I’ve been contemplating until now. Is thinking really important if you’re not going to do anything about it?
People judge you by your actions, speaking is an action too. No one can read your thoughts, so unless you are planning to act them out, they are useless. This is the same as being cocky for the sake of being cocky; it’s pointless.
Well I’ll go to sleep now. Recently my training has increased since I have to look my best for when I go to the base. Goodnight!