No one understands it. I kick myself, knowing just how moronic this mindset is, knowing that my father has always been right in saying, "The first person you lie to is yourself." That's obvious enough. I've never been able to convince anyone else that what I feel is true. According to 'anyone else', that's just me. I just look at my life through a very dark lens, apparently, and that's all my fault.
No one understands it because they don't want to take part of the blame. Change is inconvenient. Love is so intrusive. Why would anyone want to treat me better when they can take the easy way out and tell me that I'm "better" than that?
I'm not. Damn it, I am not better than that and I never have been. My brothers have always told me how I'm so much better than them, how much better I am than my friends or my enemies. There's no definition to this better. The lack of connotation in that word is what kills me. They say that to make me feel better, but they really just say that to make themselves feel better. Telling me that is easy. Telling me that will make me smile for approximately five minutes. And when those five minutes are over I will have given up on being upset simply because no one wants to take the time to find out why I'm upset.
But there's this question, this stinging thing that if asked aloud would create cringes and winces and many awkward expressions: If I'm so much "better", why doesn't anyone treat me better? What's right about treating me like dirt just because I'm 'better' than that? All the praise, the compliments, they're worthless. I know I'm just being condescended, patronized. Like my happiness and cooperation can be bought with phrases like, "I love you," and "You're going to do great things someday." And, of course, "You're better than that."
See... no one wants to understand it. That's too hard. Too hard to admit fault. Too hard to let your guard down and say you're part of the problem. Too hard to let go of your pride and apologize. Too hard for them, and so everything is put on me. It's my fault. It's my perception of things. I'm listening to the wrong voices.
I'm lying to myself.
Ha.
So far the only thing that made me feel bad about this, is the fact that my father would probably have a nervous break down. Or worse. I don't know what would happen. But I can honestly say that I know he would fall apart. He's a very strong man, not exactly the emotional type. But I am my father's daughter, in every sense of the word. He is actually very proud of me, so much that he pushes me more than anyone else. The only proof I have that he would fall apart, is that he won't talk about this. He won't talk to me about it. He won't ask me. He won't tell me I'm wrong. He's terrified.
Somehow, I have this feeling he's the only one. I know that others would cry and sob and feel guilty. Some would be angry at me. I think there might even be a few that would blame another person and seriously consider revenge.
But I want more than that. I want you to fall apart for me. If I am so much better than that, if I deserve so much better, surely I am worth your brokenness. I want to be wanted. Want me so badly that you ache. Desire my survival with such ferocity that you would search the world for a cure. Give yourself up to stop me from giving up. Scream at me, hurt me with your determination to see me live. I want fists and blood. Make me real with distinctive pain.
I know that I have convinced myself I am worthless. But I won't lie... if you wanted me to live bad enough, I would call myself a liar. I would not do it for you.
I would happy, if that would prevent your unhappiness. |
Submission Name: It
