It is so hard to choke down this painful lump in my throat. Growing up it always made me sick when I watched or read a novel where there was a character whose parents or friends seemingly did not care about them or cared more about themselves; I have only just realized I always got an empty, sick feeling because I was blissfully, ignorantly... growing up with that.
It is hard to choke down this painful heart ache.
I often wonder if they get as sick of this shit as I do or do they honestly go about their lives [my parents] blissfully "ignorant" after their massive fights. They have so many issues from their childhoods, their first marriages, this marriage and everything and they just fight...stick a fucking band-aid over it and move on until my mother screws up again and then it rips apart the thin veil that wrapped around their problems long enough for them to have another full blown fight. The cycle repeats. and repeats...and repeats. But I seem to be the only person that remembers and is stuck with the pain from it all, the only bloody fucking person that doesn't have the strength to say "it will get better" any more.
I am so sick of this feeling, I am always so numb and when I am not it is because my heart is physically breaking, tearing my entire being apart leaving me shaking and crying on the floor until I can collect myself enough to try and forget it. But I can't.
So I shoved the candy bar and chocolate creme pie, and my favourite seaweed snack [all of which my mother bought at the store for me tonight] into my "food left to rot" drawer and am writing a blog post.
I don't care what anyone says. It does not get better, life is not some god damn fairytale or pre-written story, if it were, then people like me wouldn't exist.
