Had to post this twice because it cut off at one point, not letting me post it. Wow, thanks, GoodNight Journal.
I used to believe I was enough.
That everything was normal.
That I was happy.
That the bruises and swearing were normal.
That when my mother called me ‘sick in the head’, all kids experienced this, and I was just being too sensitive about it.
Past me was wrong. Past me was very wrong.
And so here I sit, at a desk that belongs to my little brother but I’m using because he’s too little to use it just yet. 24 pencil sharpeners are in a little container on said desk. 24 blades. 24 opportunities to slice my skin apart in the hopes of driving this numbness away. 24 opportunities to escape the frequent verbal abuse, to escape the chances of less common but still damaging physical abuse. I just have to survive 7 more years of this and I’ll be free.
A twelve year old child shouldn’t be meticulously planning out their life and counting down the days until freedom. They should be enjoying social media, chatting with their friends, and participating in extracurricular activities. Not this.
If only people knew hitting a child and constantly invading their privacy isn’t okay.
If only they knew the damage it would cause.
If only parents could parent.
Journal Thing 2.
I might move this to another site, I find it shitty that we can’t have multiple pages.