Maybe it was the fact that my thoughts seemed to always be right. When she left me screaming and calling me a bitch I should have known that everything my “bad thoughts” said about me was right. No one ever gave me grace just pity for being the kid that never had the best life. So they pitied me for years. If she could not look at me and see something good as she told me she would then it was all right.
How many times have I been a pity project? I mean I am the perfect textbook definition of someone people would pity, just based on my roller coaster of a life. The unstableness that came and that I never chose. So if I hear another fucking “I am sorry.” I will scream and shout at them that my life can’t be some sorry depressing story. But then am I just becoming precisely like him?
The anger that he threw at me like how he threw me at the wall. Beating me over and over until whenever I hear his name I want to vomit all that I have mangade to eat. That does sound like something that a lot of people would pity. I don’t want pity. I don’t want to be known as the kid that had to call the police multiple times on their family. I don’t want to be the kid that people look at with sympathy and pity when they hear what a man that I should have been able to trust did to me.
I wonder if the people who knew me as a child look at me and only talk to me out of pity for being the girl having to go to the psych ward. And you know what the worst part is, they don’t know all the things that would make me pity perfect. They don’t know that I looked at a blade and thought that it would better take it to the tips of my fingers so no one would find them. Or how I always “accidentally” burn my skin in the shower and bath to feel alive to my brain. The fact is that I looked at the food with hatred for what it had done to my body and made it leave so no one knew I was sick. Or maybe the one that has taken that cake, is the fact that a man looked at my 5-year-old body with lust—pushing the line further each time to touch me in ways no one should.
I guess I am just made to be pitied. But I never asked or wanted to be. So I guess when I am done with this life or my body wins the fight against itself and finally kills itself people will only be there for the pity. My whole life no one loved me, they just saw a good person to pity.
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