Friday, 2 November 2012

For Those Who Are Alone In The World.

Hello Readers. Tonight I blast "One More Suicide" by Marcy's Playground while laying on my bedroom floor. My adoptive mom [who has NEVER read my blog, I just tell her about it] flipped out about my last blog, that if I didn't make it vague enough those involved could sue us. So I edited it and made it all vague. I told my therapist about my adoptive mom's reaction and we both agree that it's very disturbing she only cares about being sued and not what happened to me. Even more disturbing the only things she said really regarding me at all was "I can't believe you'd do that! Why would you do that!" Basically blaming me.

In the car leaving the Mall of America I called her out on this.

She totally missed the point of me feeling like she didn't care and said I was just twisting her words. She said she did care, but she just doesn't see how I could do that. Again blaming me as if I wanted to do those things, like I had some sort of choice in the matter. Then she tried to say that she did care and didn't blame me, but in no way did she sound genuine or concerned.

I then asked if my dad knew yet. She hasn't told my dad [who only hears about my blog through her since we never talk, and I can go a few days in the house with never seeing him] about it because "it's not that simple." This coming from the woman who thinks I as a 8-9 year old should have been able to tell her. I asked her what the fuck was the difference between me as a child trying to tell anyone what happened to me on the playground, and her as an adult trying to tell her adult spouse. She said there was a big difference. To which I responded to as yes there is a huge difference. Her as an adult has the tools to tell another adult.

I just burst out crying saying that I wish that they cared about me; I'd do anything for them to accept and support me. That I'm sick of begging them! That I'm sick wishing for them to just fucking care about me! That yes I am thankful they foot the bill for therapy, But money isn't love! Money doesn't talk or show concern! My adoptive mom said we talk about these things all the time; I corrected her saying that I talk and she refuses to listen or to try and understand. That even if they could never ever support, or care, or understand all this adoption stuff, that I thought on this one thing my mom as a woman would understand and care about. But she just doesn't.

So I'm just in my room crying uncontrollably with my cat Pumpkin. I'm just so done. I do not want to wake up tomorrow, and it sucks because I know that I will. I'll wake up and will have another day. I will shower, pull on pretty hipster clothes, curl my hair, put on luxury makeup, and go out with the guys pretending everything is just fine. When every time I go to the bathroom I'll be crying because all I want is for my parents to hug me and say that they really do love me for me.

I know that I'm a worth a lot and believe that every person is worth so much, more than they'll probably ever know.. But I just really really, truly, deeply wish I was worth something to my parents.

Even when all my friends desert me to hide and me alone, even if my sister never really speaks to me again, even if my parents never find worth in me.. I will still care about them, find value in their lives, and wish that they could do the same for me even though I know they never will. And I truly hate myself for that.

This little girl dressed all in pink, her hair pulled back into a pony tail, her sneakers squeaking.. This little sweet and innocent 7 year old me, who I've been protecting my whole life.. She's crying in the back of my head and keeps whispering, "Morgan why did you say something? Not talking about it protected us. You exposed us and it hurts Morgan.. Talking was a mistake.."

I haven't felt this low in months. Tonight it truly horrible. I'd end this with typing fuck ten times, but that doesn't seem to do this feeling justice. I feel horrible, but talking is always the right thing to do and I'm proud I did it.

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