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Creative Work 158
English Coursework
I never thought it would be possible to feel this way about life. I am trapped, trapped in a world with no hope, no escape. Each day is a torment for me and I pray that when I go to sleep I will not wake up again. I wonder how my life has come to mean nothing, how all I feel is emptiness. A terrible loneliness surrounds me. It is a desolate place, my place, and a black place where fear engulfs me.
As I sit here recalling how it came to be like this I am numb. I no longer feel anything, not pain, not anger, not even the hatred that was once such a big part of my life. All feelings are now gone, it's easier that way. I ask my self why, as I ‘m sure others do, why did it happen to me? The truth is I don't know. I loathe myself so much now that it doesn't matter anyway. Nothing matters anymore.
They despise me. Nobody understands how it feels to have the two people who are supposed to love you most in the world, to look at you with such loathing and disgust that you become ashamed of who you are. Only it's them that have made you, them that have made you what you are, and now they are punishing you for it.
I don't know what I did; I must have been a bad child. That's what she always told me anyway, well screamed at me. If that's what I will remember about her most it's the noise, the screaming. I always seemed to upset her even when I said nothing at all. The she would cry, and I would love her, not because I wanted to, but because that was what was expected. She was my mum after all, everybody loves their mum. I thought that the shouting was normal, everybody got angry, and it was just the names that hurt. People just laugh about it now. It didn't make sense to them the things that were coming out of her mouth; it didn't make sense to me either. That hurts too though, to see them laughing. Sometimes I laugh along with them, join in with the name-calling; it's easier that way. If they think you don't care they won't have to feel sorry for you, they won't look at you with pity. She never pitied me though. She hissed the words at me with such contempt and spite that I do truly believe that she hates me. I know she never wanted me, she has told me that much, but she said it was my fault, that I was an insolent child. I didn't mean to be, I used to try, but in the end I just gave up like everybody else.
I tried for the sake of the family really. It was always the family maxim to ‘act normal'. Eventually you get tired of acting ‘normal' though. When people ask you why your mother does strange things sometimes it becomes too much to lie, so I say nothing and hope they will stop. The truth is I wouldn't know what to tell them anyway, I know she is sick but I don't know why she blames me for it. I always promised myself that I wouldn't end up like her, but that doesn't matter now anyway.
I don't really recall when the depression started. I just remember feeling a great deal of unhappiness and not knowing why. Sometimes it hurts inside to, it hurts so much that I just want to go to sleep. I like being asleep, you don't have to think then, and you don't have to feel. You are lost in dreams, a fiction of what you'd like your life to be like. The trouble is you always have to wake up, and for a few glorious seconds you feel fine, but hen it hits you and you'd do anything to be lost again.
The truth is I don't want to be happy. The way I look at it is your only setting yourself up for a fall anyway. If you expect nothing then everything else in life is a bonus. The hardest thing is looking around and seeing others happy. You wonder why it isn't you, why you're not the one laughing. You can pretend, even make yourself believe you're happy sometimes but it's not the same.
The sad thing is I don't know who I am anymore. I have become so lost in the facade that is my life in front of others that I don't recognise myself. I am constantly trying to be what others want me to be, what I think I should be. It's like a constant battle in my head and sometimes I feel like I'm loosing control. That's what scares me the most, the fear that on day I will break. I know that day is coming. I sometimes wonder when that day will be. The tears will finally dry up and all that will be left is numbness. I look forward to that day because then I won't have to feel anymore. I will stop all sense of knowing, all sense of being. I will be dead.
I'm tired now. I need to rest. I need it all to stop. At least they can't hate me if I'm not here, that's if they even notice I'm not here.
Gillian xx
Gillian
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