"Oh, Nika, your mother is so kind, don't you want to change mothers?"
"You're so lucky, you have a good family."
"I'm so jealous, it can be so good to have a nice family like yours!"
"...Seriously? But... your parents seemed so comfortable and happy."
Really? Well, thank you. I know my family is so perfect. I know my parents are so comfortable with each other. Sure. You can say that.
And when I tell you about the truth, you stare at me and say the last sentence. But don't worry, I don't talk about it. I can count on one hand those who know about the whole thing.
Just because I almost never complain, or I never do it in front of everyone, people think my life is so good. People think I have a good mother and oooh look the family looks perfect. Well, I sorry if I disappoint you: my family is not perfect. It's not even near to that.
I won't complain because I don't like to. Maybe I do about the little shitty problems, but I hide my real ones. Because it fuckin' hurts. Because I don't want my friends to see that I got hurt because of this and I don't want them to feel pity for me or look at me like the poor little girl with these problems. And because I won't get through complaining what I want. Nobody can give that thing to me. Nobody but one person and that person just won't.
They don't even know I'm aware of the whole thing. They don't know I hear what happens. I don't sneak to the door and try to hear everything. I'm just... there. And I can't be deaf or blind.
But I pretend I am. I pretend I know nothing. I pretend I'm totally okay, I'm fine, I don't have any problems. And when I almost break, nobody knows why I do with the except of... two person? I told it more than two. They just didn't pay enough attention to remember it later. Because I wasn't crying. I wasn't complaining. I was just telling it because I felt I had to talk about it.
I don't want to be a stupid attention seeker and I'm sorry if the whole post seems like that. I just... have to talk about it sometimes, because all of my feelings are just here and I have to pretend they are not. Because if I don't do this, my mother will know, and she will suffer more. I don't want her to suffer. She deserve better. She is the best mother. I want her to happy, and she would be very sad if she could see me suffer too. She is strong and I don't want to see her sadder. I. Don't.
I could never understand children who complained about their parents. Because they are mean. They don't give the things they need. They don't give money. They don't give the food they like. Oh, I don't like cheese, why you put it in my sandwich! And when I hear somebody say "But I didn't ask for it" I feel like they hurt ME. How, HOW can fucking little teenagers say "I didn't ask for it"? What the flying fuck! WHAT! Can't they realize their parents do things for THEM? Why? Sure, because "My mother is mean, she is always yelling at me!" Fuck you. It's because you are not enough good child and you can't respect the others. You are the one who fucked up everything. Not your mother and not your father.
Of course, there are exceptions. Sometimes really the parents are who fuck up the family. But how... just how can these little shits think it's their parents' fault? It's rather both of the sides. Whatever. They won't be better. They won't be more intelligent.
And they say after the whole thing I'm lucky. I have perfect family. I did a lot of things to make our relationship to be like this. They just can't realize. I do my homework. I learn hard. If my parents ask me I help them around the house. I don't argue with them. I know where the line I mustn't step over. Because I want love in my family, between me and my parents.
And this is fucked up. Now I can do nothing about the problems. I can't just step in front of them and say stop it. I can't say I know everything and be the perfect family everyone's talking about. Sometimes I think I should just pack in, grab my baggage and go somewhere else from here to show I can't do this anymore, but I can't hurt my mother.
I can't do this, it's very hard to pretend being happy. But I don't know what to do. I'm just a little child. I can't be involved those things. And nobody knows about my silent suffering. I break again and again and again, but I say nothing to anyone except from... hmm, now there's just one person I can talk to about it. And I have remorse when I do, because I don't want to be annoying.
Do people wonder why am I so insensitive? Why my feelings are so superficial? Wait, they don't even recognize it. But it's because if I let more feelings to get to my soul, I will be shattered by them. So I pretend I love, I'm happy, I'm fine. They don't have any idea how I look when I really do love, I'm really happy and fine. They've never seen me like that. They've never seen me without laughing, joking, without my addictions.
They can't understand what I am so I won't push it. I will be the one who they want to see. And they will be surprised when things... change. When I'll change. When I will reach the point I need and I throw away the mask. They will be disappointed. But I won't care. The only things I ever wanted to care about don't care about me enough for make me happy. So I pretend I don't care. That I'm fine. Because things won't get better if I whine like a little whore.
Please don't say "Oh but you know I will listen!" What do you think, how many times I heard it? Well, a lot. But will you care and look at me without sorry? Sorry is not what I need. Everybody can say sorry. Nice habit to say it, but it won't help. And listening is not what I need, either. I don't want people to listen. I want people to hear. But will they? I don't think so. And if I could find somebody who really could hear me, would that person want it? Or would that person like me enough to realize this is what I need and they can do it?
Argh. I know I said I don't want to complain and now it really seems I do. Sorry. But this is the only place where I don't have remorse after it. This is the only place I can write long lines and don't regret it. Haha, I'm pitiful. But I can't let the suffering to eat my whole soul. I have to pour it into words sometimes.
LOL, awesome how I fucked up this blog after the third post with the fourth. But I don't give a fuck anyway.
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