I’m so done with this [TW: Abuse and Self-Harm]

I should probably make this more formal so I’m just gonna wing it because I don’t want my parents seeing me typing this or my little brother snitching on me. The relationship between us is getting torn apart. between me, my brother and my younger brother if I ever get to see him grow up. I don’t think I had any relationship with my dad at all even in the beginning there was just a smidge of love because I was his only child and then my brother was born and all of it felt gone. both of my parents used to be normal. I never got abused until the age of 7 or 8 when we came to America. I remember being such a happy kid before coming here. Dad revealed his true colors: He was a total weirdo. married my mom, didn’t show his true colors until she came to America financially dependent on him and raising both me and my brother.

the youngest memory I have of getting abused is when I was 7-8. most of my childhood memories are missing and gone except for the extremely scary ones where I remember in such full details of the events. It was night time of late in the afternoon. all I remember is getting (dont censor me plsss) in my childhood room, going right next door to dad, then also getting (don’t censor me) for the same reason: both of them were mad at each other. so then after I got screamed at and (:() after coming to both for an innocent reason of wanting comfort after seeing them argue I just laid on the cold ground in the dark and cried for hours and none of them ever opened the door because I fell asleep. I couldn’t process any of it at all at the age of 7-10 until middle school. That’s what they label as “rebelling and acting out” began. My brain couldn’t cope with it at all. I cried so much and I talked back so much because i felt so bad. I went for the first time to the other houses of my friends and saw how different my level of “normal” was compared to their mothers and fathers where I told myself that i wanted that.

My mom and dad all blamed it always on me but never took and never will take any accountability. they always scapegoat. tell me I’m dramatizing it, that it never happened, I deserved it, I need to let go of it, they’re all happy and I’m the only one that’s like this, that I’m ruining this family, that I’m causing them to fight, that it’s all my phone, that it’s all those weird friends, that it’s the stuff I watch, that the government is lying to me, that this is a bureaucracy so my siblings will get separated, that they’re normal, that they’re not normal so I shouldn’t hold them to standards of people who aren’t, that I have problems and they’re the most fine, perfectly adjusted individuals. I feel so terrible sometimes that these were the lowest points of my life where I saw no point in continuing at all. i thought at the time if I just sat there like a corpse maybe it would pass faster or i could block all the sensations but no they forced me to look at them and stand up so they could just push me around and corner me to a wall to barrade me.

I constantly had dread after a panic attack and my mother told me, ironically, that me acting like everything was fine was the best version of me she’s ever seen and loved. that she hopes that I fix my attitude of the disassociated version of me that spaced out and did everything they asked me to with a smile because I saw no point in anything anymore because I just wanted to disappear so badly because I felt so sick and I felt so much dread that I couldn’t look at anyone in the face and life didn’t feel real. Another time where all I did was go back to sleep. I think I was trying to really just escape the un-winnable reality by creating my own, fabricated one of good, false memories. I even fabricated an imaginary mom figure that had no face, but did have ginger hair based off a cartoon I don’t remember the name of because I clung so desperately for any source of warmth and love because of one episode I watched her teach her child about love and how sometimes you just have to let go of it because you’re young and you’ve just gone into the world and it helped me so much mentally and physically that I began to project so many figures like Gordon Ramsey (Lol). who cares about my mother telling me that I’m a useless piece of dirt after a tiny mistake when I have the funny man in my imagination telling her to fuck off and tell him that she’s an idiot sandwich.

Another time I snapped, i (.) out chunks of my hair to somehow lessen the pain from the amount of unbearable stress and pain. The chunks aren’t growing back. Another one that’s recent is me making a grave mistake I cried for and apologized for but my mother and father holds a grudge against me for. One day there was so much suppressed anger in me from my brother giving me mean and curse word comments that blinded in petty annoyance I pushed him, he is skinny. even a light push made him stumble over into the table head first even though now I don’t even know how that’s possible because he bended and slipped somehow on solid ground. he began bleeding from a tiny cut on his forehead on-top of his eyebrow and everyone, including me, thought he lost his eye. I ran away instinctively knowing: I will get (.) to death and I was so scared that I will die because my dad always talked about (.) me whenever he hit me to “teach me a lesson” so my dad thought I did it on purpose because I was running away and he pulled me by my hair just as I made it out of the front door into the night and pulled me back in to start beating me instead of taking him to the emergency care. all he was concerned about was fixing my mistake by gravely ”punishing” me since he is very blinded by rage in of the moment, a harsh lesson I learnt when I tried to fight back by pushing him simply away.

after that I was so scared I hid in the trash cans, I hid in the bushes, I remember having bugs crawling over me but not caring at all because sweat was dripping from everywhere, I experienced time dilation, my hands were swollen from panic, I felt so dizzy, this all felt like an unreal nightmare, I ran as fast as I ever did into my friends home. my hair was ruined from him and I think I was just mentally breaking down and I did burst into tears and tell her (not really) everything, making sure to not include the worst parts. I got harassed outside by some immature boys and constantly followed and harassed by them in the same night also bullied outside because I couldn’t go, escape, back home since the door was locked, I felt so ashamed because I thought he had lost his eye because of me. So I just stared there, constantly scared alone in the dark cold because I ran out in my sweatpants and just a shirt in the cold as my fingers were freezing and I was looking down from the third story thinking if I should do it or not.

I am a nobody at school and I carry a bad reputation because I confront people that are mean but those same people could tell their friends bad things about me so maybe nobody would miss me. maybe I thought that I SHOULD do it because life couldn’t get any wore than the state socially and in my own family I am in now. All of those collective experiences have traumatized me so badly because I was so scared that I thought my life was over and I felt like I couldn’t enjoy it ever again. I even feel that now whenever I come home and my attitudes changes as a result because I feel like some locations from my childhood are tainted and I feel dirty. unwashable amount of dirty. I broke down so badly mentally that I just felt like i wasnt alive. I don’t even know how to describe to you the feeling of absolute loss of all hope in having someone more worthy, better than you, ever love you again.