Wednesday, 29 December 2010

Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities. Truth isn't.

"Good breeding consists in concealing how much we think of ourselves and how little we think of the other person."
- Mark Twain

My parents are out to destroy me. I am starting to think that they really, really deliberately set out to hurt and upset me, to push me backwards when I start to go forwards, to keep me in chains. We have grown apart. I am floating further and further away from them, maybe from everybody.

This is all about a haircut.

I got about an inch shaved off the side, it’s not even that drastic, it’s not my whole head, I’ve been shaving the back for months, and for fucks sake, its hair, IT WILL GROW BACK!

He had a massive row, they said some really fucked up and hurtful things. Apparently, I change my appearance because I want attention and I want to shock and offend them. That is not true, I change my appearance because I like to change my appearance, because I get bored, because I spend a long, long time looking the same and I grew to hate it. It’s good to experiment. How else are you going to find out what works for you?

According to them it is all because of ‘my illness’ and its controlling me and making me unaware of the how I really look and the things that I’m doing to myself. Seriously, that is such bollocks! Yes, my identity is a bit unstable, but to me that’s not illness, that’s just boredom, I’m a Gemini, I get bored easily, I like to change every now and then.

They said that I destroying my looks, that I used to be pretty but now I’m becoming ugly. Told me to look at old photos of myself and see what a mess I’ve made of myself. They want me to be meek and timid and quiet. They want me to be the person that I was when I was anorexic. Because that’s when I had long hair and wore ‘normal clothes’... They said that everyone laughs about me behind my back because they think that I look fucking ridiculous. I’ve only just started going out again, and now I never want to go out in public again. Fucking paranoia overload.

I tried to tell them that it’s not really what they think or what they find nice to look at. Sometimes I don’t think they realise how fucking low my self-esteem has been, and can still be sometimes, how I obviously hated the way that I used to look because if I liked it, I wouldn’t have changed it. I prefer being this way. Being weird. Alternative. I love tattoos, hair dye, piercings, boyish hair, funky hair... I am not a pretty girl, I don’t do pretty, I’m not cute... I try to make the best of what I’ve got, but according to them I am on some big fuck off mission to destroy myself and that deep down I want to feel ugly.

Why do they have to make EVERYTHING about fucking mental health? Why can I not change something about myself without it having some deep, fucked up meaning? I totally get that they may not like it andI would be completely okay if they just said that, but I don't get why they have to be so fucking cruel about it. I'm so sick of this so called loving family, how much they supposedly care yet at the same time how unbelivebly cruel they have always been to me (I just mean with words, nothing horrible...) I had it off my Grandad before he died, constant, relentless taunting about how fat I was. FAT. For years and years and years until my parents decided to get involved. My (eleven years older) sister was a total bitch towards me when I was growing up and my Dad ALWAYS took her side, even when you stole huge amounts of money from me and dragged me up the stairs by my hair, it was always my fault, I started it or whatever... My Dad never gave a shit about me until I got sick and everything he does know is a blatant effort for absolution, it's got nothing to do with how much he loves or cares about me... We are always falling out, they treat me like a child, I hate it, I want to move out properly and then they get all fucking pissy about it... They want me to be something, someone, that I'm not, the daughter they wished they had, but really I'm just the daughter they never wanted..

I want a family, I want my Mum and Dad, but I just want them to accept who I am instead of trying to destroy me, because that's what it feels like...

It's a fucking haircut
Hair grows back
I have not had plastic surgery
The world has not ended

1 comment:

  1. *growls*
    I just made a response and it didn't publish again :(

    I just wanted to say, that although my parents are far more sensitive, I can relate to the fact they want me to be who they want me to be, not who I chose to be.
    That is from my outward appearance, and wearing what they deem appropriate, my sexuality (and very much being against me being gay/bisexual or whatever other label you can find) to blaming how I am on my "illness" (my sexuality mainly).
    It can be very painful to feel restricted and to not be able to be the person we want to be.
    All I can say, and maybe this comes with age, my recovery or a bit of both, is that I have learnt, to not care.
    I have grown enough self worth and self esteem (which you are still clearly battling with) to be able to say, yes that has upset me, but I need to be me.
    Because that is the only way we can be happy.
    If we are who we want to be, not who others do.
    I cannot wait to live independently and to not have my folks knowing my every move and them deciding if it is "right" or "wrong"

    Hang tight Em.
    You are you,and that IS good enough xxxxx