Dear Mum/Mama...
You shouldn't have had kids. One died right after birth. She was the lucky one. One was murdered, he was the second luckiest. The father, dying of cancer in great pain, that was almost too good for him. And you, dying of cancer, you got the result from not doing what needed to be done.
And you left behind two kids that are old and don't know how to deal with the world.
Two adults that are lost.
Me especially, being the Aspie. I'd gladly give my life for anyone else to live. I want so many people to have lived instead of me. I don't even want to be here. I don't like this world. I don't understand this world.
Mama, take my life, you come back, let me go. Or divy it up among people. Like Princess Diana and Mother Theresa and other really good people. People that others looked up to and admired.
I look at my ugly old hands and see nothing. They don't do much. I want to give their life essence to someone who can use it. Mama, I really don't want to be here anymore.
People I cared about in my life, they didn't care about me. People I thought were friends never were. People I worshiped from afar only mocked me in return.
I tried so hard to be something better. And then my defective body gave up and my back went. All I am now is a foil for trolls, to laugh at and mock and hurt. I didn't sign up to be the Jester, mama.
Every night I dread going to sleep because of nightmares. And even nightmares are good because that means I did fall asleep, instead of restlessly tossing and hitting my legs because I have restless legs syndrome.
I don't want to hear people tell me how much I need help. There is no help, Mama. Broken people with defective traits are not repairable. And everyone else passes by the clearance bin, they want the good ones. The really nice ones. NOT people like me.
Mama, you and dad both had cancer. And you both felt a lot of pain while you were dying. Again...YOU were the lucky ones.
Damn you both, I've lived a life time of pain, no matter where I go. And I'll never get it.
Every day I hope I don't wake up tomorrow. I hope the roof collapses and pancakes me and everything I have into dust or less than dust.
You never heard what they say. You never felt what I feel.
Every day Mama. Every day I am picked on.
I wish I had nice hands, Mama. I wish I was pretty. I wish I was a lot of things. But I wouldn't have had to suffer if you hadn't had children at all.
I never did have children myself. I don't trust the men. They are not worthy. And I didn't want to have kids that would stare at me, and wonder if they would be so cursed.
To say "Mama, how come you aren't pretty, how come you aren't normal, how come your hands are so ugly?" How could I pretend that everything was okay, like my mama did? She said my hands were okay. But they aren't. She said I looked okay, but I don't.
Oh, Mama.
I wish you hadn't had me. I really don't want to be here. Other people don't want me here either, Mama. The people online who want to beat me up. Or the ones in real life that did beat me up.
I thought about jumping in front of the train Monday. I thought it would be handy because my brother was there. He could ID me, and tell the news why I was depressed. And then he could live better, since he would get everything.
If I wasn't here, he would have a better life financially. And he has reasons to go on, people who can use the money. I don't have anything.
Walking through the old house, it seemed whenever I thought of wanting something, my brother said he wanted it. So I'd say "okay" because we all know I break everything anyway.
So, Mama, I'm sitting here in my recent inheritance, your old bathrobe. Anything I had thoughts of, it was already claimed. I didn't want to make problems. Like I did when your husband molested me. I'm guessing it was all my fault, or so I was made to feel.
Thanks for that, Mama. Thanks for 40 plus years of nightmares of "dad" and all the fear.
I never had self-confidence. I never had any of it. I was never taught it. I don't know how to do this world, Mama.
And all I've been good for are the blood and platelet donations. Whomever, if anyone, gets those, those are my kids. And those people want to live mama. They fight for their lives and struggle.
And those dumped or injured animals. No, a "practical" person like you and like brother thinks it's foolish to spend money on them. Money I can't really afford to feed them. They, too, are my kids. They struggle to live. They WANT to live. So I give them my life, mama. I give them my money, as I don't have anywhere to go or anyone to meet anyway.
Mama, I have never had a complaint from the animals or birds or fish that I was too old or poor or ugly. They are so grateful and full of love/appreciation. Same with the people who get my blood or platelets. They want to live.
So, Mama, you didn't give birth to a child who would someday become an autonomous human being. You gave birth to someone who would be better off in a hospital...with the money going to the animals and regular twice-weekly platelet donations to save others.
I have no reason and no business to be here. To be on any forum. That's what I get told most of the time anyway. I saw as people gloated that I was gone from the other place, even today. They, like everyone else, will never get it.
Mama, I was supposed to make a BIG difference. Nobel Peace Prize difference. What other reason is there for living, mama? Filling out a form on a website is not a reason for living.
If I can't be a saint mama, I don't want to be here. If I can't be accepted, I don't want to be here. If I can't at least get through a day without someone making fun of me, I really don't want to be here.
01 May 2007, 11:52 am
