Syvelocin
September 4th, 2010, 02:52 PM
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You live in a perfect world. A world of definite answers and common sense, logic. You were the youngest child, the spoiled one. You have no medical problems or mental disorders. You say you try to understand, but you'll never comprehend my feelings. I don't know why you lie and say you try, I know many people who try harder than you and they aren't even responsible for my life.
There are things I feel that I can't explain. You have no emotional capacity, so you always dismiss what I say with a chuckle. I know you will never understand what manic depression really is. Or what being unhappy can really be. What social anxiety disorder feels like instead of the real definition, or OCD, or DID. There's always a definition for something, but it's only words. Words can't describe feelings accurately. With everything I feel, you say it doesn't make sense. Then how can I feel like this?
And every time I cry, I think of you. Everytime I look at my scars, I think of you. And the failure you were at raising me, and the lack of your presence in my life. I have friends that give me more emotional support than both you and mom combined.
I wish I could show you my cuts. I wish I could make you feel my pain and have you see what it's like. And maybe I wouldn't feel so alone all the time.
I wish I could press send in the e-mail window, or recite this to you face-to-face.
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I just.... wanted to get this out. And if I delete the e-mail, then I still don't feel like I fully expressed myself.
You live in a perfect world. A world of definite answers and common sense, logic. You were the youngest child, the spoiled one. You have no medical problems or mental disorders. You say you try to understand, but you'll never comprehend my feelings. I don't know why you lie and say you try, I know many people who try harder than you and they aren't even responsible for my life.
There are things I feel that I can't explain. You have no emotional capacity, so you always dismiss what I say with a chuckle. I know you will never understand what manic depression really is. Or what being unhappy can really be. What social anxiety disorder feels like instead of the real definition, or OCD, or DID. There's always a definition for something, but it's only words. Words can't describe feelings accurately. With everything I feel, you say it doesn't make sense. Then how can I feel like this?
And every time I cry, I think of you. Everytime I look at my scars, I think of you. And the failure you were at raising me, and the lack of your presence in my life. I have friends that give me more emotional support than both you and mom combined.
I wish I could show you my cuts. I wish I could make you feel my pain and have you see what it's like. And maybe I wouldn't feel so alone all the time.
I wish I could press send in the e-mail window, or recite this to you face-to-face.
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I just.... wanted to get this out. And if I delete the e-mail, then I still don't feel like I fully expressed myself.