me and my cousin, we make fun of emo people. my friends too. we go “ohhhhh shit my hand got stuck in door” an dthen we make a joke of it going “good pain, good pain.” now, it feels as if i was making fun of myself. my mom’s calls me names. really hurtful, terrible names that insult my family. she syas i’m useless and bitchy and stupid and idiotic and all these bad swear words in bengali. i hate hate hate it. i’ve heard of people cutting and ithought if so many ppl do it, it must be worth something. so i tried it. it hurt so badly. it wasn’t at all how i had read it and hurt it, how it released the anger and pain welled up.
i felt relieved if not happya fter it. it felt as if i was inflicing what my mother wanted to inflict upon me but i was doing it willingly. by cutting, i thought i was becoming a good girl. my relatives talk about me behind my back. how rude and snobby i am, how i yell and smack my little brother, how polite my aunt’s stupid daughter is compared to me.
but guess what? it’s not me they are hurting. it’s my mother. i’m a better student and a better worker than my cousin. she’s prettier than me alright, but doe sthat really mena everyone has to love her and detest me? is that right?
my mom beats me with hangers, sticks, books, and her hands. one day, she held me down onto my bed and beat me with her sandal. then she pressed it really hard, trying to get it into my mouth, but i gritted my teeth, so instead, she was grinding the rubber toe on my lip which caused me to bleed a heck of a lot.
she keeps yelling at me about how good my cousin is. doesn’t she see my cousin is only her sickly sweet self in front of my relatives to show me up? obviously not.
my mom yells at me about hitting my brother and how only mothers should do it not young kids. i want to hit her instead. i feel so sorry for my brother when my mom hits him with her wooden sppoon.she once left a scar across his shin. he doesn’t even know about that. he’s my parents’ pet.
my dad used to support me and stop my mother, but now he’s on it too. and it hurts more than ever, physically and mentally.
when i cried, i cried loud and hard and she’d keep teling me to shut up. but after she went out of my room, i’d cry really hard but quietly. it hurt inside and outside. my throat would be raw from screaming and wondered why in all the book’s i read, neighbours would hear or see and rescue the kids. i beg god to kill me sometimes. i don’t know if he agrees. he doesn’t seem to say anythingat all. not a singal sign. i just live every single day like the last, being ordered around, doing maths about three grade levels higher than i am in, being bossed about, with some physical abuse or praise here and there, abuse more than praise.
i started cutting one day when i couldn’t breathe beucase i had been crying for so long. i stuffe dmy fist into my mouth and bit down on my knucles but it felt like i was suffocating, so i started to cut myself to release the feelings.
it doesn’t work.
i don’t think it’s stupid to cut yourself. all the giudance counselors and all that junk say it’s torturing and abusing yourself, right?
but isn’t that better than being tortured and abused by the person who carried you and now claims to have a cursed womb becuase she held a she’demon in it like me?
