And the time has yet come to write again, it’s been far too long since the last time to be honest.
It’s been two crazy days (Friday, Saturday), it seems like my mum’s trying to make me as uncomfortable as possible.
She knows I slipped (Thursday) and is craving to see my arms, but I won’t let her, and I think it’s pretty frustrating for her, because I don’t say no often, but I figured that now was the time to set my foot down.
Yesterday I had had enough; I escaped out of the house, telling no one where I was going, the only answer they got was “Out”.
I put my phone on silent, so I wouldn’t hear if they called or texted me, which they did, a lot, but to be completely honest, I didn’t care, I didn’t give a rats arse about if I worried them or not, they deserved to be worried after what they put me through.
I was so angry, frustrated, I didn’t know what to say or do. I know they’re trying to help me, but it’s not helping, for me it feels like I’m being pushed to the edge of a breakdown, like they’re trying to break me sort of, I don’t know. But what I do know is that it’s not helping, whatever they think they’re doing, it’s not.
The anger I felt made me push almost everyone even further away, they didn’t understand because they didn’t want to, all they did was drawing their own conclusions.
Why does everyone have to say one thing, then mess everything up when they’re doing the complete opposite?
My mum made me really want to hurt myself, sort of to punish her, only that I would be the only one knowing, and the anger almost made me do it, but I got out and escaped for about five hours or so, nobody knowing where I was at, and it felt great. Nobody I had to worry about, because I honestly didn’t care, at all.
To be careless for a while is great, but then again, it’s not who I am, it’s not who I want to be, but at that exact moment, it felt relieving.
They don’t want me in my room, they think I’m isolating myself from the world, but I’m not, sure I might be hiding a little, but I feel safe in here, this is my space. I want to be alone, to escape my family and their questions, because I can’t handle them.
I just hope they’ve given up their crazy ideas that they think are helping, because I don’t know if I can handle it, it makes me more resistant to people helping me, makes me push them even further away from me, close up inside.
And if this goes on with the same intensity as is has these last two days, then who knows what the outcome might be.
Bekka – InsideOut