In the Dark.

Wednesday 26th January 2011

Well, there is finally some light at the of the tunnel.  I have been in darkness a week now and it has never before felt this bad.  D told me her Dad, is my Dad.  My uncle is my Dad.  Like it wasn't bad enough before having my Aunty (My mother's sister) as my step-mum, it seems my Uncle (My Dad's brother) is also my Dad.  The uncle who died of cancer, the one I never saw when he was dying.  The Uncle who had his fingers inside me when I was a kid asking if I had come yet when I didn't even know what it meant.  Making Steven my brother!  That prick who may have raped me when I was a young child on the kitchen floor in the dark, when we lived at Sapperton Road.  That dick who fathered S to C!  I mean isn't our family fucked up enough?!  Why did she have to tell me?  Why did I make her tell me??  Just because I was so up myself I thought I knew everything!  I thought I knew what she was going to tell me, that Derek was my Dad.  The step Dad who beat the shit into me when we lived with Rose (My Mother).  Nothing could have prepared me for THAT!  It makes D, M, Ma, Ni, No my siblings.  C becomes only my half sister and J doesn't even become that!  He is just my cousin.  He is downstairs now with Rob and he sounds so much like Dad it hurts.  I wish I could hate Rose for this, but I feel numb towards her, as if nothing she does or say could ever hurt me when she has already done so much damage to me.  I had a meeting with Devy or however you spell it, on Monday this week.  She was worried about me, Lisa was there and they met for the first time, or so I am told.  I wish I could be her all the time.  She makes me feel strong and safe, like nothing could ever hurt me.  Devy has been phoning me every day, telling me to phone the crisis team if I need to.  But what do I say?  I'm thinking of killing myself?!  I'm sitting here and I want to die?!  I can't!  It would be like admitting I have a problem and I need help, I can't do that.  It's one thing to see a therapist every week for 50 minutes, but to phone some complete stranger on the end of a phone and say "hey dude, I need your help!"  I just can't bring myself to do it.  But I don't want to die either!  I don't want to kill myself, but there is this darkness inside, evil darkness saying do it, do it, take the damn pills, take them all.  I feel worthless, like if I did phone them, it wouldn't matter any way, they would cart me off to glos royal, stick me in a bed on a loony ward and then laugh at me from another room while the doctors and nurses treat me with contempt because they are there to save lives, and I'm just there so I don't end mine!  It's not like I deserve it!  I don't deserve a bed that should be used for a sick person who  really need it.  I kinda know how J felt now when he was in hospital and kept saying that to me.  except he actually was ill,he had inflamed liver and gall stones.  Me, I'm just stupid.  And like K said on fb when I put something on my status, well actually what I put was a joke but partly true about the way I felt.  It said, "If I was to put on my status that I was suicidal and standing on the edge of a cliff, I wonder how many of my friends would poke me"  and she called me an attention seeker.  Ja said he wouldn't poke me cuz it would take all his fb friends.  Yea thanks for that, way to kick a girl when she's down!  Tell her she's fat!  Sh did say he wouldn't poke me, he would rope me, I laughed and said I could use a rope right now and he said his rope wouldn't be any good to me because they are noose proof.  It's funny.  The only one to bother replying was the guy who came round with S when we was kids.  The guy who actually fell in love with me and P and S chased him off for it, called him a pervert cuz I was only about 11, yet S who did THAT to me in that very house!  It was P that punched , kicked, pulled my hair, slapped and hit with clogs, sticks, crutches, walking sticks, and a fucking swish curtain rail until it snapped and blood poured down my legs for wetting the bed!  Yet because one guy ever showed me any emotion but hate, lust and anger was a pervert.  All my so called friends and family on fb and he was the only one to care.  Oh him and my thread friends.  They say they would pray for me, but seriously, what good are prayers?  What good are prayers to a God that doesn't exist?  And that was hard to write.  mothers words in my head again, going on about not taking the Lord's name in vain, about never lying, it's in the 10 commandments and tell the truth and shame the devil.  Her!?  who never even went to church, never read a bible, HER who married her sister's man, and her brother-in-law, brother to her husband!  I mean WTF?!?!?!  And they say I'm fucking crazy?!  They never should have let her out of the loony bin when they put her in there when she was a kid and stabbed her Mother in the arm.  Mind you there are a lot of times I have wanted to stab mine!  Fucking both of them!  When she was beating on C cuz that prick got her pregnant, fuck me she was lucky M was there cuz I still believe I actually would have stabbed her when she held that knife to me, or she would have stabbed me, either way she was lucky her daughter was there to save her fat, ugly, greasy, ass!