Dear Dad,

Every day when you get off work, you drive alone for an hour only to get home and go to your room and shut the door and watch t.v. until you go to sleep. you do this with only occasional leaving of your room in order to yell, complain, get food and use the bathroom.

Everyday when I get off school, I walk for an hour to get home, spend 20 minutes of peace and quiet working on my homework, go to work for 2-4 hours, come home, get screamed at to do the dishes, do them, cook dinner, attempt to socialize, get yelled at, go to my room, do homework until 1am and then sleep until 6am.

This is bullshit. Every other half decent dad comes home and supports their children. Whether that means helping them with homework, helping them tidy the house, cooking dinner, or even just having a pleasant conversation with them. You do none of this. Honestly, I am pretty sure you never did. 

I know you like to blame us kids shitty childhood on mom, but you divorced when I was 10, I still had a good chunk of childhood left when I was left in your custody. At least mom has a good excuse for being a shitty mom, but you, you are just a shitty dad.  

All that I want are three things, and they are pretty simple things, I want to have a little respect, just a bit, I want you to listen to me and I want a little less responsibility.

I honestly cannot explain how bad things are here, if anyone were to walk into our house I’m sure that they would know just by looking at it how horrible it must be to live here, without even meeting the worst part bout living here, the people.

Do you know how long I have been counting down the days until I leave? Because I honestly cannot even remember. It might have been when the oldest hit puberty, she was so much worse then even you will ever know, worse than I will ever tell anyone, or maybe it was the first time the younger one attacked me and i thought to myself “I might actually die at the hands of my little sister”, maybe it was the first time I stood up for myself to you and your bullying and tears were streaming down my face and I was red and shaking so hard I could barely breathe and you told me to go fuck myself, maybe it was back when I first started to cry myself to sleep every night or when I discovered what moms real problem was.

No matter when it was, if someone was to ask me what phrase I have said the most in the last seven years, I would tell them “just _ more years, you can do this.”

Recently those years have turned to months and I cannot wait to finally live like a normal, happy person. I got into the university that I dreamed of. Not to say that you didn’t try to stop me with everything you could, telling me that the older one can’t go back (after missing a few years) if I do, saying that I should go to the local college first (for 1001 dumb reasons) telling me to take a year, all this shit. 

Well, dad, I may be a pushover and often sacrifice my own happiness just to see a smile on someone else’s face, but my future, my leaving this hellhole, will not be paused, it will not be slowed down and it will definitely not be stopped for any of you. this is the one and only time I will put me before everyone and I am going to make sure it happens because I love myself

I learned a long time ago that if I didn’t love myself and always care for myself, no one else would.

- Only 5 more months

anonymous asked:

life is so sad

It really isn’t.. I used to think like this, for many years of my life I was deeply sad , i thought the whole of life was sad, everything & everyone was sad but its not true. Life as a whole isn’t sad . Life is deeply beautiful. Its all about perception. You can get through this. Life is oddly beautiful, yes, realistically sad at times, but also deeply beautiful, happy, joyous, amusing, loving, exciting, sweet. I went around for so long hating myself so ferociously and hating my life and the world but its actually wonderful, it is. Keep hoping, keep going. You can get through this! X

Dear cigarettes,

I hate the smell you leave in my grandad’s house, even if the last cigarette smoked was the day before, the stale smell lingers. I hate the smell of you that sticks to my clothes even though I don’t smoke myself. I hate the way I can feel the smoke when I breathe in.

I hate seeing the hold you have over the love of my life. I hate that he craves you. I hate that he can’t go too long without you or he’ll start to get a headache. I hate that he can’t enjoy his holiday because of the withdrawal symptoms. His hands are shaking, his headache is intense and he feels he might pass out but he can’t smoke in front of his extended family. 

You’re kiling my boyfriend. He needs to quit but he can’t, not yet. He’s too stressed, too busy, he’s not strong enough to break free from you yet. 

When the time comes, he’s going to kick your ass. It’s going to be a challenge but neither of us will give up. I’m going to help him defeat you because I am NOT letting you kill him. 

Justin, the cashier,

Today was the first time I saw you and probably the last time I ever will. But I hope you’re okay. I saw your arms.

I don’t know if you’re recovering. The marks didn’t appear to be fresh but they weren’t scars yet either. You didn’t notice me looking but I promise I was neither judging you or pitying you. It was surreal as I have never known anyone in person that self harms. (To my knowledge.)

I’ve been there though. And it made me feel a little less alone in that moment. And I want you to know that it does get better and you are strong and loved. You were a really nice person and quite the looker too. Don’t give up on yourself, okay?

I’m sorry that I didn’t say anything about it. I’m sorry that I couldn’t. My family doesn’t know about me and I wasn’t going to draw attention to something you may be ashamed of.

Please don’t be. You’ve got this.

- The blue haired  girl that didn’t speak.