As a little girl I always wondered how it felt being that kid who lives with their grandparents or aunt or cousins because their parents were put away, on drugs, or just simply weren’t fit to raise children…. Now I understand what that feels like. Not belonging. I never have, but here I am, a bastard. Here I am. I have developed into a nihilist getting off on thoughts of sadism echoing through my day with sparks annoyance that often will often blaze into anger. More often repressed. But the point is I am a product of never having a home emotionally. I come to my boyfriends beautiful fairy tale looking cottage right down the street from universal studios. Miley Cyrus a neighbor, Rick Baker a neighbor, Steve Carell a neighbor. A Porsche and BMW parked in the driveway. A call gate to punch a code in to get in. An alternate universe where I have a mother that cares about what I have to say and supports expressing myself regardless of the way it translates into my appearance. A sense of not only healthy maternal love, but emotionally stable people. Financially stable people. Pop-culturally correct instead of politically or religiously redundant. I guess maybe a home? But no matter how many times someone will assure me as I’m about to fall asleep that “this is your home” and “you’re welcome any time” it is still not the place I return to every day after I have a long day at work. I feel locked in a castle again but only a different version. Instead there is a dragon guarding my way out that just likes to drink wine all day and start fights. Blow fire up my ass as soon as I come home. I understand. I could have it a lot worse. I could have no physical home. I could have no family at all. I could be dead…. But would that really be worse? I’m starting to think over and over again as the anxious feelings strip away my self control, is it really worth it? Are you really going anywhere? Is there any point? Will it change? Well I look back to the year I was born, I look back to 5 years old, I look back to 13, 17, and right now. None of these people in my life have changed. And I’m trapped. I’m sure the tiger in it’s cage fantasizes about two things and two things only as he watches the crowds go by. Tearing everything apart and the end.
I thought I had escaped, but I am still the tiger in the cage.
Hahahaha, definitely my hero.
How the fuck did you pull that off with no major sympathy? No one thought it was bullshit?
Oh my god this is so fantastic. What was the assignment exactly? This was supposed to be a true story? If so you may just be my hero. Please come off anon. If not continue the story. Like reactions and so on.