Anne (gumiko) wrote,

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i hate being like this. i always figured having my sister's kids around combined with mine would be absolute doom on my soul. like i'm not fucked up enough as it is because of my sorry ass bum situation of being trapped living with my parents cause a certain loser brought out the STUPID in me. here i am.....watching over 4 children, never once was asked if i agreed to or not. not once can i sum up the positiveness that should be required of someone watching small young children. so this is how the world is filled with losers. this is how fucked up childhoods bring about crazy, murdering, drug addicts...or simple people with extreme dysfunction. i could guess either one for this lot of 4.

both my mom and dad or horrible fucking parents/grand parents, for there is nothing that is more evident of this, then putting small children into peoples care and seeing how they interact with them....or better yet, their lack of interaction. well. they interact i guess. they do yell a lot. expect a lot of mature effort from a bunch of toddlers. have good strong whooping arms, and loud shrilly yells and screams of...whats the word.....aggravation. i guess they just expect them to fully understand everything they expect or say to them. expect them to voice want they want precisely and clearly. they are 3 after all they should know better then to throw temper tantrums and cry and snatch things. after all that's what 3 year olds do.

i hate soaking up the extreme negative energy choking the house. the crying, the screaming, the annoying sounds, the hatred, the misunderstanding. everytime there's a explosion of all this shit at once, especially with my parents involved, not helping but making matters worse, like fucking ALWAYS....i want to drown, i want to curl up in my own quiet little corner and push the world away.

what did i get myself into. i feel like i'm somewhere between being a kid still and adulthood, where i'm still living with my parents and dependent so much of other people for simple things like food and clothes when my kids grow out of theirs, but i'm responsible for all these kids, feeding them, giving them what they need and attempting to put a damn smile on my face occasionally when i'm not in the mood, to let them know, things will be ok.

will it?

will they forever live in the tormenting shadows of their grandparents, will my kids ever have a decent male figure that they can fill that fatherless void with. will they forever wonder why they were brought into the world by someone as stressed out as me, and why they didn't get a dad who cared enough to call, more then his cigarettes and booze. why does everyone in our family communicate with yelling. why is it ok to be treated like your dumb because luck wasn't on your side? why does the world keep going round and the sun keep coming up and shining, when nothing is fucking ok in it?

why is my ideal of coping with great amounts of stress to either pick at my skin and make it bleed, or get a new blade and slice myself open. why blood, why pain for me? oh that's right....cause it distracts me and sends those happy fuzzy warm feelings my brain sends through my body, at least until it happens all over again.

how easy it is for me to not cry, no matter how consistant the feeling of sobbing uncontrollably comes over me, because i don't want to be weak, i don't want THEM to see. i don't want to be asked if i'm ok, i don't want comforts and advice, because it makes me feel worse. but how do i escape.

lately i find myself fantasizing about running away and being by myself somewhere floating around....then my reality sinks in. i can't abandon my kids. make them feel like I did, like i do? it hurts. fucking everything hurts.
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