Thank you for stopping today when I somehow managed to run myself over with my own bike. I'll never look on it as my proudest moment but it made me feel better to have people in the world who, even though they were total strangers and probably had other important things to do, stopped and asked if I was okay (to which the "yes" was embarrassingly mroe feeble than I had hoped it would sound....but never mind...) So, yeah, thanks muchly. Also thanks for pointing out that I'd cut my hand open...
And thanks to the one guy I nearly crashed into, for actually driving back and checking that I was okay, particularly as I still hadn't moved myself out of the road by that point. Your kindness made my day.
Sunday, 9 January 2011
Wednesday, 5 January 2011
Dear mother,
I love you and I'm sorry that I screw up sometimes. I've never really been one of those serene and stable people and I guess I just struggle to remain calm most of the time. Nothing and nobody is entirely blameless but I find it hard to pinpoint quite fully why I am like this all the time, so volatile and prone to change.
I know you work more than I thought it was ever possible to, just so you can give this household things it wants and needs (not in that order). You're incredibly efficient and practical and I find it terrifying because one day I will have to be like that and I think I will fail miserably because I'm terrible at doing things like this. I hope that when things are a little calmer we can actually spend some time together without both of us stressing out because we can't get on or there are other things to do or because we are both so tired that the only things we are compatible with are our pillows. I wish you didn't have to work so hard, you come home pretty much exhausted every evening, and then you cook dinner and you do washing and you do washing up and ironing and hoovering and putting things away and helping us all maintain a life here. I should give you more help but I never get around to it and it feels like I'm being stretched out between home and school all the time, plus I have t always deal with dad on the phone... He doesn't ring often (lack of interest of course) but when he does it's always about you and I can't tell if it's because as he says "he loves you" or just because he's still being obsessive-posessive and terrible.
My first memories are of the two of you arguing. I remember the shouting and the broken things every morning and always having to go out and buy new things, it was worse as I got older. I hated it. You hated it. I had no idea what was going on. You had every idea what was going on. It's been nearly seven years since you kicked dad out and I still dream about it sometimes. It scares me. When I wake up in the middle of the night all I want to do is come and talk to you but now you have Julian and he's always ill and there's Shanice and I don't want them to hear and I don't want to get in the way. But at the same time, I want to just steal you and piss them off to the extent where they leave. But you would never forgive me.
Every day as soon as I wake up I feel squashed in a box. When dad lived here he hoarded stuff so there wasn't any space, and then there was so much space after he left and you were working all the time and I was left on my own all the time and I got used to it. And now every day i come home and Shanice is here with her feet up on the sofa and she's watching T.V. and playing on her iPhone and all the lights are on and she has her laptop out too. And if I ask her to turn it down she does, but then she turns it back up, and she;s always coming and knocking on my door- "I just wanted to see if you were okay"- which will evidently prompt my response, "Fuck off, I'm busy." Which is usually me just actually attempting to calm down and relax but failing because there's a singing child in the flat that I used to, for five hours a day, have all to myself. I can't do what I want to do any more. It's always followed by questions and glances and Shanice sneaking around and entering rooms silently and listening in to conversations that are none of her business and I feel trapped from the moment I walk in the door to the moment I leave it. what was my home is now my prison and it hurts to think I will NEVER get freedom until I move out.
What I have just written is what goes through my mind every spare minute of every day. I wiah I could really tell you all this but you'd be mad and only tell me that I have to share. Sometimes I think I just want to leave but there's nowhere I can go now. Dad certainly doesn't want me and I don't have any money or a clue where else I would go that actually gives me space. I wish...I wish we could talk but we can't. I love you.
I know you work more than I thought it was ever possible to, just so you can give this household things it wants and needs (not in that order). You're incredibly efficient and practical and I find it terrifying because one day I will have to be like that and I think I will fail miserably because I'm terrible at doing things like this. I hope that when things are a little calmer we can actually spend some time together without both of us stressing out because we can't get on or there are other things to do or because we are both so tired that the only things we are compatible with are our pillows. I wish you didn't have to work so hard, you come home pretty much exhausted every evening, and then you cook dinner and you do washing and you do washing up and ironing and hoovering and putting things away and helping us all maintain a life here. I should give you more help but I never get around to it and it feels like I'm being stretched out between home and school all the time, plus I have t always deal with dad on the phone... He doesn't ring often (lack of interest of course) but when he does it's always about you and I can't tell if it's because as he says "he loves you" or just because he's still being obsessive-posessive and terrible.
My first memories are of the two of you arguing. I remember the shouting and the broken things every morning and always having to go out and buy new things, it was worse as I got older. I hated it. You hated it. I had no idea what was going on. You had every idea what was going on. It's been nearly seven years since you kicked dad out and I still dream about it sometimes. It scares me. When I wake up in the middle of the night all I want to do is come and talk to you but now you have Julian and he's always ill and there's Shanice and I don't want them to hear and I don't want to get in the way. But at the same time, I want to just steal you and piss them off to the extent where they leave. But you would never forgive me.
Every day as soon as I wake up I feel squashed in a box. When dad lived here he hoarded stuff so there wasn't any space, and then there was so much space after he left and you were working all the time and I was left on my own all the time and I got used to it. And now every day i come home and Shanice is here with her feet up on the sofa and she's watching T.V. and playing on her iPhone and all the lights are on and she has her laptop out too. And if I ask her to turn it down she does, but then she turns it back up, and she;s always coming and knocking on my door- "I just wanted to see if you were okay"- which will evidently prompt my response, "Fuck off, I'm busy." Which is usually me just actually attempting to calm down and relax but failing because there's a singing child in the flat that I used to, for five hours a day, have all to myself. I can't do what I want to do any more. It's always followed by questions and glances and Shanice sneaking around and entering rooms silently and listening in to conversations that are none of her business and I feel trapped from the moment I walk in the door to the moment I leave it. what was my home is now my prison and it hurts to think I will NEVER get freedom until I move out.
What I have just written is what goes through my mind every spare minute of every day. I wiah I could really tell you all this but you'd be mad and only tell me that I have to share. Sometimes I think I just want to leave but there's nowhere I can go now. Dad certainly doesn't want me and I don't have any money or a clue where else I would go that actually gives me space. I wish...I wish we could talk but we can't. I love you.
Dear father,
I wish I didn't have to call you that. I wish we weren't related. The amount you have hurt me and the number of awful memories I have that are your fault is terrible. Every day I struggle with what you did to mum and how you managed to singlehandedly tear your family apart. You lied to them. As a result they thought I was being arrogant and now they won't talk to me and it hurts because we are supposed to be related but I feel they could be strangers, just people I walk past in the street.
It hurts when you try to use me as a messenger to ger to mum and to find out about what's going on here. You say hi and then it's just a torrent of questions about her and the others. Do you feel that because you made me somehow this love is unconditional? Because you are wrong. You never care about what grades I'm getting or how my day has been or if I'm okay or if I need help. You never ever ring me to actually talk to me. You don't imput here at all. I wish you would just be a little more interested in me and my life. You don't ask about it, though.
What you said about Mikolaj was hurtful. If you must disagree with my choices please at least be a little more tactful or subtle. You have no idea how hard it hits me when you ring me to complain. In my Christmas card you wrote "with all my love". I don't think you meant it.
When you love something you take an interest in it and try to take care of it and not offend it. But you, you hardly ever ring and when you do it's not to talk about me- it's never about me any more. Every conversation we have revolves around my mother. You have no need to remind me she exists, dad. She's the only person who has always looked after me, and she works herself into the ground trying to provide for this household and for me so I can continue my education. But you do nothing. You don't want to know, and you're a terrible actor- you can't even pretend to care or to listen. How dare you talk to your friends about me and what I think and what I do. You and I have NEVER had a conversation. Never. You don't even know who I am any more.
It hurts when you try to use me as a messenger to ger to mum and to find out about what's going on here. You say hi and then it's just a torrent of questions about her and the others. Do you feel that because you made me somehow this love is unconditional? Because you are wrong. You never care about what grades I'm getting or how my day has been or if I'm okay or if I need help. You never ever ring me to actually talk to me. You don't imput here at all. I wish you would just be a little more interested in me and my life. You don't ask about it, though.
What you said about Mikolaj was hurtful. If you must disagree with my choices please at least be a little more tactful or subtle. You have no idea how hard it hits me when you ring me to complain. In my Christmas card you wrote "with all my love". I don't think you meant it.
When you love something you take an interest in it and try to take care of it and not offend it. But you, you hardly ever ring and when you do it's not to talk about me- it's never about me any more. Every conversation we have revolves around my mother. You have no need to remind me she exists, dad. She's the only person who has always looked after me, and she works herself into the ground trying to provide for this household and for me so I can continue my education. But you do nothing. You don't want to know, and you're a terrible actor- you can't even pretend to care or to listen. How dare you talk to your friends about me and what I think and what I do. You and I have NEVER had a conversation. Never. You don't even know who I am any more.
Dear classmates,
It hurts when you use me as a ladder to help yourselves be better. You never realise the amount of work I put in just to stay in the same place, let alone move up in terms of a grade or a place in class. It's very energy-demanding and not many people give me the respect I wish I could receive.
I would be more willing to help if you actually sounded like you give a damn rather than you're just using me for a foot up or some help. I should get paid for this, it's tutoring and I don't have the time to explain things to you over and over again. You can't be bothered to do the work. Accept that as a result of that either you must rely on luck and "magically" pass, or you will fail. It is unfortunate but this sort of thing happens.
I would be more willing to help if you actually sounded like you give a damn rather than you're just using me for a foot up or some help. I should get paid for this, it's tutoring and I don't have the time to explain things to you over and over again. You can't be bothered to do the work. Accept that as a result of that either you must rely on luck and "magically" pass, or you will fail. It is unfortunate but this sort of thing happens.
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