i-wish-you'd-understand

Lifehack: if you go into the theaters with the mindset that books and movies are different forms of entertainment you’ll be a lot happier in life

PSA

Friendly reminder that just because something is easy for one writer to write doesn’t mean that thing is automagically easy for every writer to write.

Each person has their own strengths and weaknesses. Each person fears and worries and struggles differently and independently from the fears, worries, and struggles of others. And isn’t diversity wonderful? Isn’t having your own road to travel and your own voice and your own power wonderful even if it’s sometimes scary or hard?

Let’s try to keep that in mind before we judge other writers by the insecurities they feel or the questions they ask. At least they bothered to ask.

So, we move that we help each other improve and grow as much as we can. That’s what we do at WriteWorld, and we hope that’s what you do in your own life.

-C

Dearest Father,

I am NOT a 6 year old anymore. I don’t need someone to plan my “play-dates”. I don’t need someone to protect me from the dark. And I don’t need your closed-minded opinions. I’m am 17 years old and all I need right now more than ever is your trust. I need your support. I NEED you to understand that I know what I’m doing. I have right to my own decisions, friends, and future. Please know that I can’t always please and fulfill your “rules.” I’m growing up and it’s about time you relax a little or a lot. Trust me…I’m not like you. I’m not a reckless child. I have control of my life. I just wish you’d understand. The more control you want of me…the further you’re pushing me away. I wish you could see the amount of stress you put on me when you’re around. I love you dad, I really do….but don’t hold on too tight. It won’t be long before I break away.

Sincerely,
Someone you’re pushing away.

When did things start to change? Cause i remember before, that it didn’t matter if it was 12 in the afternoon or 12 in the morning, if i needed to talk to you about things that were going on in my life and frustrating and bugging me that you would be there to listen and care. And now it seems like i still have to ask if i can come talk to you, if it’s a convenient time. Truthfully things have changed and i hope this isn’t a permanent thing cause if the one person that i actually am willing to tell everything to doesn’t even bother to care and listen anymore, well then i give up on bothering to depend on anyone anymore. Maybe it might seem like i’m overreacting but it just sucks more when you expect more from a person and they let you down.

Dear Dad,

Why must you do everything to hide my problems as much as possible? The court already knows of my problems and issues; phobias. There’s no use trying to hide me, I’m not naive and manipulative enough to be confused by your friendly words and gestures, I already know our little game. You bring me to a therapist until I’m sane again; and take me out; I go mad again; I’m brought back; repeat. When will you realize that it takes more then a therapist to remove seven years of trauma and anxiety; that it may never go away?
You say that you did the same thing as me; drawing the beautiful scarlet designs on your arms, dripping rubies. You say you did the same thing for the same reasoning, though you say I was overdramatic and stupid; pathetic. You try to make everything look okay, so that we won’t be taken away and you won’t be left with child support. You won’t have enough money to buy alcohol; to waste your nights drinking away and to sleep on the sofa, leaving me to feed and take care of my siblings. You know I’m not lying.
I was forced to grow up when I was seven, I knew how to take care of an infant, do laundry, use a credit card, purchase food and cook for two children by the time I was nine. So when you say I’m ungrateful, or undeserving or lazy, just keep in mind that I did all of that: and took care of your shit in the process. If it wasn’t former you’d be in prison, not sitting on a leather sofa with alcohol in your hand, your children sitting on the floor watching the program whilst eating cereal. And you’re so confused on why I left! Open your fucking eyes and realize that you have shit to take care of! We’re mutual; I’m nothing without you, you’re nothing without me.
You tell me I’m too fat to have an eating disorder, that I’m melodramatic about it and am pathetic. Just think: were you there with me after hours of bingeing? Were you there to hold my hair while I gagged and vomited? Were you there watching me hit my head on the hard ground or with a bottle for punishment? Were you there watching me overdose laxatives and endure the cramps? Did you ever look at me and see my ribs and hip bones? Hear my stomach growl like an animal? No, you were never there. Because you didn’t care and you know it. You even noticed that I never ate dinner or breakfast.
You say its ridiculous, knowing I had attempted suicide twice. You call me a liar. Did you notice that I took 12 ibuprofen and 3 of your painkillers and was asleep for hours, possibly days as I cannot remember? No, you didn’t even ask. Did you hear of the second time? Probably not, you probably don’t care either. I had a belt, snake-tight, round my neck, but it wasn’t enough, so I beat myself to where I was coughing up blood. Again, only a deep sleep, but you didn’t care.
I exaggerate when I say all girls hate me? Well, you should have read all the messages and statuses targeted at me; heard me cry as a bitch had said “Kill yourself.” . Girls targeted everyone at me, ignored me. I lost two of my bestfriends because of that shit.
Daddy, I haven’t seen you for a month now, haven’t spoken for weeks. Last time I spoke to you was on the phone, and you were too drunk to care. How do I know? You were asking “How was school?” Over and over again and “I love you.”. Do you know how long its been since I’ve been asked that? You never asked me that, just said “Dinner’s in the fridge, I have to work.” And you were gone. I know that you miss me, but I’m not coming back until you finally get your shit together and take care of yourself; I’m done doing it for you. I love you.
Love,
Your Little Girl