If I had decent parents or lived where people actually would give a shit if I told them about home, I might have led a different life so far. But I don't, I haven't. I've cheated and lied to get somewhat stable in how I'm treated, and I don't feel guilty about it. I tried my best to help my sisters out when I could, while dragging myself up to where I am ive given up trying to help my sisters do the same. After all, why should I help those who won't help themselves? Why should I help when they actively go out of their way to make me miserable? Why help when I gain nothing, not even gaining their appreciation or approval? Why help when that's all I ever seem to do? Why should they get to throw hissy fits when I stop helping but should I require help, it be denied to me? I'm done. I'm so done. I shan't require anything from anyone, not again. I'll be the Best thing this world's ever seen, and I'll tear down the heavens to do so, if need be. Hell will rain down upon anyone who stops me, and I will not be forgotten, and I shan't be left behind in the past in somedusty history book no one's opened for years, I'll be remembered, and I'll be happy and adored because damnit I deserve to be happy and the more people like you the less likely they are to forget you. I'm terrified of being forgotten. So I'll be adored, and I'll be happy. I am not settling for the closest I can get to happy. I'll be brilliant, and if not, I'll be brilliant anyways, but I'll drag everyone down with me, instead of being good. I'm okay with destruction. I'm okay with that. I'll not be forgotten. And to my mother and my father and my stepfather, I won't miss you. To my stepmother, whom I've never met, I apologise. I could have known you and had a decent relationship. But I hate my father, and you married him. I hope you understand. If I hadn't hated him from such a young age or so intensely, I might have known you. For that, for denying you the chance to learn to know me, I'm sorry.
To my stepfather, you are miles better than my father. I'll give you that. The last few years, I've missed you. You're not as bad as my mother, either. But I can't stand you, either. You're terrible and horrid and the way you know how to pick on just the right things and the way you insult me so casually, and the way you just automatically assume the worst of me and mine, I hate you for it. I hate you. You hate me because I'm genderfluid, not that you know that i am, but you hate trannies or shims, so fuck you. I can't stand you, and I can't wait til I leave. I don't wish death on you. I don't wish horridness on you. I just wish you understood. I'm sorry, for not being like CJ, I'm sorry, for not being cisgender, I'm sorry for not being able to control everything. But still, fuck you.
To my father, I've no regrets for how I treated you. You're despicable, and at least my mother was there when I was young. At least I have some good memories of her. My first memory of her was sitting in a baby swing, not even a year old yet. My first memory of you, I was two years old and had a busted lip and a bruise on my arm from not being asleep yet while watching Mickey Mouse. Fuck you. My second memory of you was you beating the shit out of me and my littlest sister-who isn't yours in any way.- for playing in the rain. I was not yet six, and yet my shoulder still fucking clicks and aches from where you used it to drag me across the house. Fuck you. I wish you'd just fucking rot. Rot alive, and let it be slow, and let it be painful. My last and only memory of you was you blocking me on Facebook for wanting to see my older sister and my newest sibling. I don't even know their gender or their name. I don't know anything about the baby. They're what, four? Fuck you. That's my family, and I hope you understand the exact pain you've caused me. I don't even know Lizzy's last name. I can't find her on Facebook, can't find her anywhere. And you won't respond to me. I don't even know if she remembers me. Fuck you.
To my mother-youve tormented me for years. I struggle so much because you never did let me socialize properly. I've got a friend? Well fuck you, let's have me change classes. I start talking to someone. Avoid them or else. Invited to a party? Nope not going. And every single cousin is years younger. I've grown up alone and lonely. I'm still alone but I'm not lonely anymore. I might not have friends that can be here but I have them. Fuck you.
To all the adults who know about this and didn't do anything-go to hell and suffer there you pathetic assholes. You knew,you knew, and you didn't Care. And to me, that's the worst thing of all, allowing me to stay there, to stay here, and suffer. I needn't have learned to glare like Ill set you on fire, I needn't have learned to keep my face completely masked at all times, I needn't have learned to keep up those masks even when I'm completely hidden in my head. Speaking of which, I shouldn't have to hide in my head to avoid anything. I shouldn't be calming myself out of panick attacks and anxiety attacks and beinng punished over autistic meltdowns caused by sensory overload and yelled at for not listening when I'm listening but you said it to fast but I didn't catch it and I know you said something but I just can't tell whether you said it in English or Japanese and you repeated it but you repeated it faster than the first time so i didn't catch it. And I shouldn't be told I'm lazy and ungrateful and hateful all day everyday when I've worked hard to not give in to the urge to just give up and die, and I've worked hard to not get taken away which was a mistake, and worked hard to keep my sisters in school, and make my mom go to work and my mother's current boytoy from stealing from us for drug money and myself in school with good grades and I hate all of you for it. I rarely ask for help because when I do I never receive.it and honestly I'd rather fail on my own than ask for help and not receive help and still fail. So fuck you. I hope you all rot and suffer.
