The Walls Have Eyes (Diary)

This is a very, very bad idea


17. May 26th, 2015


I finished writing my thing. It was tough, because - unlike this - I had to admit everything bluntly for the social worker on paper. I've yet to hand it in and I don't even know when she'll come 'round. I may have already said so, but I'm not the best at speaking what I feel without letting it show as well.

Many of us, we live life and we feel pain. Some of us cry out and ask for help, others press it down and act like they've successfully ignored it. We pretend to be what we're not. And when we're asked if it hurts or not - we lie. Or we realise just how much it hurts and we burst out in tears for not taking it seriously.

Admitting it is the hardest part.


Rectifying your moral compass is mind-blowingly painful.


It hurts... so, so, so, much. It hurts you on every level, sometimes even physically, to the point where you can't even stand yourself.

What do you respect more: honesty or loyalty?


I've tried so hard, all this time, to be as loyal as I can - lying in loyalty's name, stealing loyalty's name, sacrificing in loyalty's name. Loyalty is a bitch, a virus that overrides every node, nerve, fibre in your body, in your mind, in your soul - and to become free of it you'd have to strip bare everything within to the roots, until all you are is a chasis of what you were. Loyalty is not changing anything , it's never changed anything, and I just can't do this anymore. It hurts so much and nothing makes it go away.

It's like the more I try to ignore it, the worse it gets.


It hasn't been a good week. It hasn't been a good week. You know, I know my father has to be out of the picture. Now I'm wondering whether I should still be in it.




I don't want to look after these kids for the next ten years of my life. But... I don't want to abandon them either.

I feel like a traitor just thinking it.

I want to live my own life, have my own place, make my own friends. Paint my face every once in while - just to hide away that frowning mime behind the visage of a beaming clown. I want to stay up nights: drinking energy drinks and chatting and watching movies - not staying up to check temperatures, fix clothes, clean the baby vomit out of my sheets.


I've been doing this on a loop since I was twelve, living this adult life that I never asked for. And everybody keeps saying that “it'll get better” and “good things will come” - but I don't f*cking see it. What f*cking good things? Where are they? I've tried to walk through this tunnel dripping with darkness, while holding a torch - but instead of showing me the way, it's only served to blind me as to how dark this tunnel is. I'm nowhere near the light at the end. And


What did I do that was so bad? Just tell me, God, what was it?


You know, I look at Pipsqueak, I look at them all and it scares me just how much hatred I have for them. It's never enough. There's always something I've missed. And I get angry and agitated and pissed off, and I hate myself for it. You know, I was watching something a few days ago and someone said something along the lines of: “In life, we all look for somewhere we belong.”


And me?

I don't belong anywhere.

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