I just can’t, not now!
And I don’t know about my other posts, I set all of them on private. Why? Because I feel as if I shouldn’t be heard. Because it seems as if I have to keep all my thoughts inside. Or when I get dragged away by the madness of the people around me.
This week I was about to finally beat my father up for all what he had down to me and my mother. Because the peaceful path never worked, it only made everything worse in the end. And guess what? The neighbors got involved… now that I finally wanted to fight back. And guess what? They meant that it is none of their business what is happening here, but that we should talk, like adults. TALK LIKE ADULTS!!!
TALK! I talked, I was quiet, I played by the rules, I ignored myself, did what others wanted. What did it bring me? Only more problems.
Talk… They can talk all day, he can talk all day, others can talk all day. But when I say some words, I am the child.
And people who have no understanding what it feels like to not know who you are, what is okay and what isn’t. Have no idea what this blog is or was about. I have no fun doing this. I don’t feel good. I probably never really felt good, only when I was able to escape from here for some time.
I really think that I am in the wrong body because the only thing I have in common with typical men, is my penis, these sick thoughts and I guess that is about it. And I want to cut that thing off, if I wouldn’t die this way. And it also wouldn’t help me anyway. Besides, there are more humane ways of changing things these days, aren’t there? (Looks into the news and sees wars, terror and propaganda as if it were a few thousand years ago) About that…
I hate this madness which is accepted, ignored or unnoticed by many.
I hate it so much, that I would burn myself if it would then stop, but it wouldn’t. Doing things to myself never changed a thing. At least not in the world. At worst it only made my life even more painful.
I don’t know what people think what I want, I just want to be able to do what I want, to find solutions with friends (but none of them are in the condition or mood to make something happen, or are they?)
And then I think, that it might be, that they were usually male, because that is how it is/was. It doesn’t matter for me, but I think that with girls, as long as they weren’t idealistic or already brainwashed, I had way better connection. Especially when they had a fighter attitude (fire in their hearts).
I mean, it is actually important to know some fighting technics as a girl / woman. Because usually words and talking really don’t stop anyone who really wants to do harm or who “just” does psychological harm. Which actually is the way more terrifying and breaking one. Because the physical wounds can heal or at least stop hurting after some time (usually), but the wounds inside could stay forever or at least a very long time. Especially when there is no one to share it with, who also understands and helps you through it.
Because when my mother called for help at nights, no one came to help her. At least one time my grandfather heard it in his sleep and then we were able to sleep a night in his house. When I was screaming, no one came. When my mother had to break in through the front door, no one came.
But hey, when I am about to beat my father, the neighbors tell me to go inside and to talk. While my father by the way had a 1-2 meter long branch in his hands, ready to hit me back. While he was yelling for help, telling them that me and my mother were attacking and hurting him. Like a little child, the child he is.
But people don’t care, even say, that it is none of their business, but that we are important. I ask myself, how important can that be. I ask myself, did they say the same to the other people in my village who killed themselves or struggle with it? The guy who jumped out of the top floor with stones in his bag. The woman who hang herself, the other guy who did whatever?
They were all important, crying, screaming for help, but hey, it is not their business and when they are dead, then people are “shocked” for a while and then continue. 😀 😀 xD 😦
And people like me are the problem, the monster and when I can’t hold it back, I should act as an adult or seek help or whatever. xD
I mean, whenever I tried to help myself, things got only worse.
The last time I started to help myself was last year and now this year happened. 😀 This is totally FINE. And I know that it wasn’t my fault, but it will be my fault, when I won’t fight this year. And I went into full crazy mode many times this year. But otherwise I can’t heal and fight back. Because only when I face this madness, I can beat it. Otherwise it will still be there, but just get a hold of me and turn me into an ignorant asshole as well.
I can’t do this much longer.
And I can lay my “weapons” down, after I won because I fight for an actual free world, something like Narnia or other worlds in this way. I fight for a future in which everyone can theoretically do anything, but would stick to the things which are good for everyone and themselves. Or at least good for those who are also doing things this way. And I fight for a world in which are many, many different kinds of people, but they get along with each other.
Like a group of rockers who drove a child who got bullied to school, at least I heard such a story. Or why can’t a woman who was working in the sex industry support children to be creative and defend themselves, so they won’t “have” to work in there? Or that they decide against it, in case they had a chance. Why can’t an old grandma drive a motorcycle? And why can’t a metal guy ride a horse? I mean, I don’t know in what a world you want to live in, but I want to live in a world in which people are able to do things, be free and decide for themselves and not be “decided” or judged by their past, appearance or all these things.
Most people do things either because they were easier for them, others were forced to do things, many just had to do something to survive. And now judging this, would be as if you say: “It was your fault, that you were born.” And when I look at some people, like my father, I think they probably believe that. But hey, I tried my best to get rid of myself, but something inside me was just too strong. And I couldn’t kill myself and when I could have done it, it didn’t let me finish it. This something was the will to live.
But like my father, a lot of people probably just stick their fingers in their ears and say LA LA LA. Not shit, he actually did that in the past. Probably before he learned to professionally ignore whatever you tell it, but remembering every bit, when he can use it against me and my mother.
It is horrible when (almost) everything around you wants to shut you down or tell you that you are wrong. Luckily there is always the chance for change and if it is just little at first. After some time, it might have an immense impact. Never ignore a little memory leak, if you don’t find it, it might bring an air plane down. And then, then it is too late. Good that I am not (in) the plane.
(This morning, I could weep a little, when I watched this video and the song.)
Thank you for sharing Amarela:
I think I will make my other posts (except recent few which still are) public again. But give it some time. This is also not the first time this year I do that and not the first time in my life, that I wanted to delete everything. I do that quite often or at least think about it. Some things were gone this way.
Today I even thought about some rebellious things again, like making music in public. Although it might seem not all that rebellious, it really is. Especially when you play music which is presented on this blog. Which has no genre, at least not for me and while maybe not all of it is always exactly that, but a lot of it comes from heart. And if not, then it can at least represent or help a heart. Be it strong, weak, lost, broken, crazy or just out of gold (enter other kinds of hearts here as well).
I often just don’t know what I can say, what I can’t say and when I am actually in “dangerzone” (in a meltdown) or just everyone around me (where I live and also others who know me, but only what I gave them or what they wanted to accept) is mad (like usually).