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Lost Child
This is where I will come to write about myself as the horrible human I am. This is where I will let my emotion depict my pain, sorrows, and anger. Will show the world how broken I am of a creature of our Mother. And maybe one day I can be able to gr
Tuesday, May 13, 2014



I'm on the greyhound at the moment. My daughter who is five is as sleep in the seat next to me. My mother is sitting somewhere towards the front of the bus. I'm glad to be returning home. I still don't know what force pushed me into actually leaving home. I should know better. I should know so much better. I long for family though. All I ever wanted was a loving caring place. I'm a bit naive. I should know better. I'm a grown as woman. I've known these people my whole life. I shouldn't listen to them.

Yet their words always get to me. Always. Then such anger, such rage that builds up my very soul makes me and say things I regret not the next day but minutes later. There's only one person that could handle me when I'm an animal like that. Only one person I ever really allow to get near me to calm me. For he understands that I don't mean anything harmful for those I care about. But he's so far. My best friend is just to far out of reach. So many hours different even if it is only two. He has everything I never will. and sometimes I envy him that. I envy him his happiness.

So, when on nights that my family enrage me I blow up his phone with messages and calls. For I just need to hear it from him. I-I need him to tell me I'm not a monster. That I am not one of them. That I'm not a monster. But he has other things to do. He can't babysit me now. He can't fix me or try to hold me together anymore. He has his own life to live and his family to watch over. But the sad truth is I only live because of him. I only breath for him. He is my rock. For if I did anything to myself he would hurt. He thinks to much of me when I myself think nothing of myself.

People are wondering why I am crying now. As I write this I keep having to wipe my eyes from tears as I write so I can see. I have to keep editing. I hate being so weak. Because that's what I am. You would think that after so many years I would be able to hold myself together under the words of them. They aren't happy with their lives so they throw me down and stomp on me. Family is suppose to help one another grow but not in my life. I see other peoples families and wonder, "Are they really happy or are they putting on a show?"

I was trying to leave. I wanted to get away. To run away. To hide. But it just wasn't meant to be. Those back home that talk to me think I'm strange and cold. That I'm two faced because with one group of people I'll pretend to be the happy go lucky kid that doesn't let the world get to them but with others I don't really care to pretend. I'm antisocial because I hurt people. I can't let them get to close because the more they mean to me the more I hurt them. I sometimes wonder if I should just walk away from it all. But then I remember I have another life to worry about.

My poor daughter, I feel so bad for her. She's stuck with me as her mother. Me. I don't know why the Mother gave me a child but at first, when I was still with her dad. Before I became even more of a walking time bomb I was happy. Or at least I thought I was. But it came crumbling down with a crash of great poportions. Her father never made me reach my lowest low but the man tried his hardest to make me break. I don't think anyone could ever reach the kind of pain my own family gives me. Sometimes I just want to walk away. Just walk. Get a bus and see where it takes me.

I've stop getting, I put my headphones on and I'm listening to rock. The music loud in my ear as SOAD screams about crying angels. We just left Lost Angeles. Mountains all around. And I'm only thinking about one person. And for once its not my best friend. I've already talked to him. He already knows about my break. He knows about my scrapped knuckles for hitting the brick wall a block from my aunts apartment down in Korea Town. The ache of my bruise knuckles isn't punishment enough. But I'm almost home. Just a couple more hours. Then everything will work out.

I don't know why you read this. If you just read it to get a kick out of it, that's okay. I like making others happy. Seeing as I can't reach my own happiness why not make others smile and laugh. I find the laughter of others like music sometimes. Well. My nook is about to die and I need to blow my nose. My phone still has full battery at least so I'll listen to my ear splitting music and try to stop this flow of tears. Honestly I'm a pathetic excuse for a person sometimes. Sadistic and emotional in one person, how does that work really? But maybe I'll talk about that some other day. Good day to you.





Rosestace
Community Member
Rosestace
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