I'm Losing It ._.

So here's a long rant. Somewhat of a life story. I'm honestly losing my mind.
I've been trying so hard now to be happy. I've been pretending that nothing bothers me. I've been throwing everything aside. I've been lying to myself and lying to the world. No matter what I do, no matter what I say, nothing will ever change. I'm well aware that there's thousands of people that have lives much worse than mine, that some people would even consider me lucky. I understand I should be greatful to have a roof over my head and clothes on my back. I understand that my family loves me, and they will no matter what. I understand that. I understand why people would think I'm just an ungreatful little brat. I get nearly everything I want- material possessions, anyway. But that's not what I want. I don't want someone who's going to just buy me what I want. I want someone who's going to love me and understand me, and someone who's going to listen to me when I talk. I want someone who will think of me as a person and not some stupid kid who doesn't have a clue what she's talking about. I want someone I can actually trust, and someone I can actually feel comfortable around. I want someone who loves me who I can love back.

I can honestly say I don't appreciate my family. I don't appreciate the things they do for me. I don't appreciate all the things I get, all the things they say. I don't appreciate their love- I don't want it.

I want to go to bed- just one night- and not cry. To go to sleep one night and be happy to have lived another day. To wake up one morning and be happy to be alive. For as long as I can remember, that's never happened. There's always been something- that one tiny little something- to ruin it all.

When I was alot younger, I remember how my parents, mainly my mom, would always give me these little talks. They'd sit me down randomly and just start rambling about stuff I didn't really understand. My mom seemed so sad when she'd talk to me like that. I never understood her and I took for granted those moments I had with her. I knew things weren't right, but what was I supposed to do? I had no idea what was going on. I'd see her some weekends, her and my dad, in their room sticking needles in their arm. I didn't know what to think. I had no idea what they were doing. I simply ignored it, pretended I didn't know. Other nights I'd wake up to my parents screaming at eachother and throwing things. I pretended to stay asleep. My dad always seemed to stay so calm... my mom would yell and he'd ignore her. That started to change, though. They'd come home late at night and they'd both be drunk and they'd hit eachother and he'd actually be the one yelling.
Still, this didn't affect me much. I only saw them on the weekends so I was happy to have that time with them- whether they paid attention to me or not.

I never had alot of friends growing up. In school I was always the one who'd sit alone at lunch, sit by herself at recess, and work alone during group activities. I was made fun of on a daily basis. None of that helped much at all. My family wasn't exactly something I was happy to have at the time, either. We argued all the time. No one listened to me because I just a little kid who apparently didn't know anything. Nothing I said mattered. All they ever said was, "Oh, you'll change your mind when you're older." Well I'm older. I haven't changed.

I remember how I would always tell my dad I hated him. For stupid little things like not letting me stay up late or not letting me go to my friends house for whatever reason. I had always liked my mom better because she let me do more than he did.

Then I wasn't allowed to see my mom anymore. I had come home one weekend and told my grandmom about the needles I saw my parents with. She never let me back over to see my mom after that. I guess now that I'm older, I can undertsand why she did that. She didn't want me around my mother when she was like that. But when I was home, with my grandmother, I was always miserable. I cried so much, and I don't even know why. I remember waking up almost every night and just walking out into the hallway and crying... for no reason.

I'd beg all the time to go see my mom but my grandmom never let me. I missed her so much. Then a year or two later, both of my parents were in jail and we were getting ready to move away- to move here. We were able to visit my dad alot. After my grandmom stopped letting me see my mom, I became alot closer to my dad.
My mom got out of jail before dad did. I would talk to her on the phone sometimes, but it was hard. My grandmother had full custody of me by then. The judge had told her that I could see my mom and stuff. But my grandmother still never let me. When she would call, my grandmother would stay on the phone and listen to us. I hated that. I couldn't even talk to her because I'd cry just hearing her voice. Then the calls gradually stopped. My mom sent letters every now and then. I only remember getting a few. Then I remember finding them in the trash, ones that I hadn't got. My grandmother had no intention of giving them to me. I resented her for that. My mom told me once that the judge requested to speak to me at one of the hearings. My grandmother said that I couldn't. My mom would tell me things that my grandmom told the judge. None of which were true. My grandmom knew that if I were to speak to the judge, I'd tell him I want to live with my mom. She'd do anything to keep that from happening. She also knew that if I spoke to the judge then he'd know that she lied about some things my mom said and did. My mom promised me we'd be a family again someday. That she would never stop trying.

Once we had moved and my dad was out of prison and home with us, I spent alot of time with him. I always asked about mom, and if I'd ever see her again. He didn't really like talking about it, he never said much in response. Sometimes my mom would call his cell phone to talk to me. But then that stopped because my grandmom caught me on the phone with her. We were stood in the doorway of my room- her yelling at me and my dad yelling at her. I became so much closer to my dad that night. He had stuck up for me. He understood me. It was the greatest feeling in the world, but at the same time the worst because I knew I was still stuck there with her.
My dad and I stopped spending time together. He had a job that made him come home tired. He was online all night talking to girls. After a while, he got a girlfriend. He hadn't met her, but was going to.

I got to see my mom one time, though. It was sometime in October of 2003. My dad was in North Carolina at the time meeting his girlfriend. My grandmother dropped me off at my mom's house, just for a few hours. I was so happy that night. My mom and I just sat on the back porch and talked for a few hours.
After that night, I never heard from her again. I gave up on her and was convinced she didn't care. I started to hate her. I thought that she had just completely forgotten me. Then sometime in 2006, I found out that she had been abducted in November of 2003. That would explain why I never heard from her. I also found out that pretty much the whole damn state knew about it, my family and everything. But my family kept it from me, and everyone else just assumed I knew.

That really didn't help me much at all. I was already miserable enough living here with the one person I ever truly hated. Every year I'd get into a huge fight with my grandmother and she'd threaten to take me to my mom's house and leave me there. Honestly, I would have loved for that to happen. But she never went through with it. Then the summer before last my aunt got fed up with me and made my grandmother take me to a psychiatrist. I had already seen psychiatrists, I hated them. But I didn't have choice, I had to go to this one. I came home crying almost after every visit. It made me even more miserable. I'd beg for my grandmother not to make me go. It was a waste of time. Then finally they managed to drag my dad in there with me. Thank God he finally got what I was saying about how it was a waste of time and he said I didn't have to go anymore.

Things actually started to get better after that. My grandmother and I still yelled at eachother on a daily basis, but I had my dad there to calm me down. But every day I just gor more and more miserable for whatever reason. I could be having a great day for a change, and there would always be something there to ruin it. That resulted in me cutting myself and planning out suicides. People thought that was a fase but no one seems to remember that I'd been doing that since the 2nd grade. I'd come to school with my arms all torn up and teachers would just call me crazy. My grandmother never even saw any of it. After a while my dad finally decided to talk to me about it and I told him I'd stop, though. But I never did. Then he spoke to me about it again, and I saw him cry. I've never seen my dad cry. That was the only time. I could tell how hurt he was just by the way he was talking and how he looked. After that I swore to him and to myself I'd never do it again. Even after that though, I still often wanted to kill myself. I knew I wouldn't, though. As long as I had my dad around, I'd never go through with it. But I couldn't help wanting to.
I realise now how stupid it was to cut myself. It's probably one of the dumbest things I've ever done. I realise how selfish and cowardly suicide is. I know I'll never kill myself. But that doesn't stop me from wanting to.

My dad eventually moved away to be with his girlfriend. I'd call him all the time and beg him to come back. I hated being alone with her. I had no choice but to just stay here and finish out middle school. So the summer after 8th grade, I was more than ready to move in with my dad. He finally drove up here to get me and I packed up and left. I was so happy it was unbelieveable. It was just me, him and his girlfriend. I loved it there so much. I loved being with him again. We hardly had any money, we didn't have internet, we only got 3 channels on TV, we didn't have a phone, there wasn't really anything to do around there- but I'd spend the rest of my life like that if it meant being with my dad.
I was only there for a month when my dad went to get me registered in school. I had already missed a month of school by then, though. So we went in to speak with my principal and he said that my dad didn't have custody of me, and he wasn't even on my birth certificate, so they couldn't enroll me. Why my dad wasn't on my birth certificate, I have no idea. He was there when I was born and I got his last name even though my parents were never married. But all this meant that I couldn't go to school there, meaning I'd be sent back to my grandmother. I couldn't stand the thought of that. I had to go to school though. So I ended up back here. I was supposed to only be here for about 2-3 months. Then on January 2nd, my dad got full custody of me and I was free to leave whenever I chose. I ended up having to stay here until school was over, though.

Since then I've been trying to make the best of things. I've been trying my best to be happy and to do well in school to make my dad happy. I can't pretend anymore, though. I've given up on school because I'm just too tired to care. I'm done pretending to be happy when I'm not because it's only making me feel worse. I want to happy but it's just never going to happen. There's always going to be something, just that tiny little something, to bring me down. I've been crying on and off for the past week for no reason in particular. It's just everything. I can't stand living here, I can't stand being like this, I can't stand this life. I just want everything to be okay- but it's never been okay. It's never going to be okay.
I just don't know what to do anymore. Nothing's ever changed and nothing ever will. No one I talk to ever understands me. I'm too young and stupid apparently to have a clue what I'm talking about so what I say doesn't matter.

Well you know what? I know what I'm talking about. I know what I think. I know what I want. I'm not some typical ignorant teenager. I'm not going to change when I'm older. I'm not going to learn to appreciate you. I know more than you think I do and you'd know that if you'd just listen.



Is one single day of happiness too much to ask for?