In less than a week, my evil father is going to get married even though it hasn’t been a year yet since my mother passed away. He brought a woman home in March (he said he’d been selecting the new wife candidates only two months after my mum died) and since then he’s just been making our lives even more miserable than they already are.
In case you haven’t figured out yet from my past depressing entries, my father is the person responsible for my depression, my low self-esteem, my fear of people, and my thinking that all women are a threat to my happiness (unless they’ve been proven otherwise). Needless to say, I hate him from the bottom of my heart. I even hold him responsible for my mother’s death.
A lot of times, especially when I’m with people, I wish so hard that I could be ‘normal’ like everybody else. So hard that I simply can’t enjoy being with people because it’s so emotionally draining. There are still people that I feel comfortable with, but you can count the number of those people with your fingers.
If there was any goodness in me, I got it from my mum. She was probably the only person in the world who ever thought of me as someone special. But then again, she was my mother. I think all mothers think their kids are special. But she always did make me feel special. She made me feel adequate. She was always so proud of me and I couldn’t be prouder of being her daughter. She was the strongest woman I’ve ever known. I can only wish that I could be half a strong as she was.
My mother wasn’t perfect, but she was a damn good mother. There is no doubt about it. Given a good father, I would’ve been a ‘normal’ person. My mum actually apologised to me for marrying my dad before she died. I did blame her for that every now and then, especially when we were having a big fight (which didn’t happen very often), just to make her feel guilty. But I really didn’t mean it. I know that it wasn’t her fault. I believe that everyone makes at least one really bad choice in their lives.
So here I am in Canada, halfway around the world from where I come from, running away from my father and my home, the House of Pain. I don’t want to be there when my dad gets married and I don’t want to be there on the first anniversary of my mother’s death. The memory of when she breathed her last breath right in front of me is still so fresh in my mind, as if it happened only yesterday. It keeps playing inside my head like a really depressing movie. I so wish it was just a movie.
This depressing post is brought to you by the song “Creep” and “Exit Music (For a Film)” by Radiohead. Check out the lyrics and weep. No one should be allowed to listen to depressing songs by Radiohead when they’re feeling low. My mistake. I apologise.