Dear Mum.

Sorry, I should have mentioned before this may be a trigger


I hate you. I hate everything you have done to me. I hate the fact that everyone just lets you away with it because you are ‘***’. We should all forgive **** because her mum, dad, sister and brother are dead. But why should I? It’s not my fault any of that crappy stuff happened. So why should I just ignore it when you say the most horrible, crushing things? Why can’t I fight back, without getting a lecture. I hate it. I hate school. It’s hard, and it hurts. It hurts because I know how bad I am doing. This time last year I was supposedly getting all ones in my prelims, and now I seem to be failing everything. I HATE it. I hate that I can’t figure out what is wrong with me. I know there is something that I need to change but I don’t know what. I feel so confused. It’s like I think I know exactly what’s happening, and then other people manage to confuse me and make me think what they think. I don’t know if I’m the bad guy or not. Maybe I do deserve it. I don’t know. It’s too hard to deal with everything all at the same time. It just hurts all the time, and I’m tired of it. I don’t have energy for anything anymore. I don’t write at all, I barely draw, I don’t want to go to drama, and I hate school. There is no break. I thought it was getting better with the whole friends thing, but then they just back stab me like everyone else. And I just can’t keep forgiving everyone all the time and pretending it’s okay. Because it isn’t fucking ok. What is so hard about not slagging your own daughter off? Why is that so fucking difficult? I feel so alone. I feel like there is nothing to hold on to anymore. Like there is no reason to try. I want to believe everything happens for a reason, but it’s getting harder to do that. I don’t know why any of this would happen. Why anyone would do this to people. The only reason that keeps coming back to me is that I deserve it. That I have done something wrong and this is what I get. I don’t understand. I’m scared of becoming you. I don’t want to be you, I don’t want to be anything like you. I don’t want to be selfish, or nasty, or ungrateful. But according to *** I am. Apparently I should be the one who is ashamed. But I shouldn’t. I haven’t done anything to deserve this. I haven’t. If you didn’t want to be a mum, you shouldn’t have had me. It’s pretty simple. What did you expect? For a kid who just sits quiet for their whole life. Well, I’m sorry but that isn’t who I am. I won’t let people just do what they like and not say that they shouldn’t do it. That’s who I want to be. I want to be someone who says what they think, who is independent, who is loyal. I know I’m needy. And that probably won’t change. But why is that I bad thing? Why is it bad to need something to believe in? I need you, but I know I never will have you. You won’t change. So I have to. I have to learn to find comfort in something else that isn’t food, pain or you. I need to feel better about myself. I need to stop being so scared of getting hurt. I need to get past you. Because if I don’t I will be just like *** and dad. I will just be another person telling you it’s okay, when the truth is you are a selfish, nasty, bitter person. And I deserve to be more than that. I won’t be another person to feed your need for attention. I won’t do it. I can’t do it. It hurts me to much. I need to be selfish. I need to do what is right for me, not what is right for everyone else. And it’s terrifying. I don’t know how to make decisions on my own. If I do know, I don’t know that I know. I can’t even pick a random number without feeling like I’m about to have a panic attack. And that’s because I have always made decisions based on what other people want me to do. I can’t do that anymore. I have to do what I want to do. I just don’t know what that is.
I need you with everything I have, but you’re not good for me. I need to know what it is like to be without everyone else. I need to shut off what other people need. This is the most important school year of my life so far, and I have to give myself a chance. I deserve that.
Written by me at 14 years of age

(My Mum, Aunts and Dads names are starred out for safety reasons)