I Am Nothing But Something To You

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I am nothing to you until I have children. Sometimes you make me feel like a chore. Is this the world you want for me? No wonder I could feel objectified, because that’s how you are with me. Cart me round in your fantasy but without actually seeing me. You know very little about who I am, how fragile I can be. You don’t see it, all you see is your own views of me.

You don’t encourage me when I tell you I want to do something big, you tell me it’s a lot of work and money. Yet, if my brother or boyfriend want to, then they get your support? Why? Because all you want me to do is have children so that you can be a grandma and tell all your friends that your story is complete. Well guess what? Fuck your fantasies and start listening to me, to mine.

Dare I dream of a world where I can come run crying to you, for that would be a killing hope. I learnt very young that you don’t know how to hold me. You wonder how I can be so dismissive towards you – it’s because you were to me. Where do you think I learnt it? Children don’t just imagine up dismissive behaviour, they learn it. It’s taken me years to listen to my body and understand why I felt this way towards you, and why it’s not my fault, and why I shouldn’t carry around guilt for feeling it. Now I see it so clearly that it’s always been this way, and it’s not me exaggerating. I am an adult and you can still affect me with your ways. I am an adult, trying to be somebody, and you can still make me feel like I’m just some thing.

You must be deeply unhappy under all of that, even though you won’t be aware; masked it for so many years. I was. I did. Another thing you taught me – how to search for happiness in all the wrong places. I can’t blame you for that part I guess, since you don’t know the answers. But you should still see me, care for me, show love for me. Listen to me, listen to what I tell you, show you, feel.

Well that part is over now, because you have lost your hope. You’ve confirmed for me that it is how it is for a reason, but it can’t be any other way. The difference now is that I can see it. I can see through all of it, and I just need to accept it and find ways to manage it. You.

I am more than what you make me, and I’ll be more than you could dream for me too.

 

 

The Hidden Truth

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How do I feel? I feel lost, I feel alone, I feel confused, I feel exhausted, I feel angry, I feel unwanted, I feel livid, I feel unloved. I feel invisible.

All of these things are rushing through my body at the same time, all fighting for dominance; and yet the world expects me to be okay. I’m still meant to put on a brave face and hide how I really feel from the world. I am still expected to wear the mask that I have perfected over the years. The mask of a person who is coping with life, a person who isn’t phased by what life throws at them.

But it is all a lie.

I’m not coping, I simply pretend that I am. The people who are aware that I am struggling aren’t truly aware of how much. They don’t know the true extent of my struggle, of my depression. No one does. I have many masks for many different people. None of which are my true face. Only I can see behind the masks. Only I can see the truth staring back at me in the mirror.

The girl who is old before her time.
The girl without hope.
The girl who is barely recognised.
The girl who is me.