The Modelled Daughter
The daughters story:
Gazing at the dull walls, I wonder; how did i end up here? Five years ago i was the perfect daughter. I thought nothing could ruin that, though honestly, I wanted that ruined. From a broken home, I always felt i had to prove myself to those i loved. But did i really love my family? If i loved them, i would never have done it. It was a stupid thing to do, which i should regret. But I don't. Simply because it was the only way for me to find freedom. Freedom which i should have had ever since the day i was born. Instead? I felt isolated for the first 16 years of my life. Sounds crazy considering a psychiatric ward is about the most isolated anyone could ever feel. For some reason I feel free. I have nobody to answer to, its too late for that.
Why did i grow up the way i did? I don't know, however i know my mother does, she is the one to blame after all. She made me, she modelled me, she basically made me a 'psycho'. It was my 15th birthday, I was sick of her controlling ways, I was sick of the way she treated me. As though i was to blame for her mistakes, but she was my mother. I wanted her to know how that feels, and be able to blame her. So that's when it happened. Did it work? How should i know? She was gone when i needed her the most. So there it was, my point proven. She didn't want me, she didn't love me, she was ashamed of me. For a second, she knew how i felt for sixteen years of my life. Embarrassed to call her my mother, Just like she was to call me her daughter. I couldn't do it by myself but i knew i had to, what other choices did i have. All i wanted to do was to hurt her. Sounds bitter, but maybe that's all I am.
When i say 'hurt her', I don't mean physically, i mean emotionally. The emotional pain she has caused me is much worst than any physical pain i will ever experience. Death? That wasn't the answer. Well, not for her anyway. Coming home from school every day, there would be a new 'friend', a new story, or a new act. I couldn't be myself, I had to pretend to like everything, from ballet to hip hop. There was always someone to impress, yet the only person i really wanted to impress was my mother. Until i finally realized she would never love me. That's when i met him. I was vulnerable, I could talk to him, only he wanted more, much more.
Sounds innocent, but no. Why am i here? Because I'm a murderer. I took a knife and stabbed him. I took my anger out on an innocent person. A person who was looking forward to having a family. With me. But i wasn't ready, i didn't want the child. So, I had no choice. In a day, i went from the 'perfect, unloved daughter', to a failure a murderer, and a 'psycho'. As for the child? Aborted.
Now, I don't know what i like, yet i can't pretend. I can't love anyone, yet I'm tired of hate. I can't open up to anyone, yet i can to talk to you?
The Mothers Story:
Gazing at the dull walls, I wonder; how did she end up here? Five years ago she was the perfect daughter, all I could wish for. I thought I would have that forever. So, she may not have had the easiest of upbringings, though i had a steady career, put dinner on the table, gave her money when she needed it. She shouldn't of done it, she should know that. She has nobody else to blame other than herself. Was it some kind of act for attention? No, she has problems. Here is the best place for her. Will I ever forgive her? That's up to her. For 16 years of her life, I have given her freedom, money, and trust. What more should she need? Love? No-one needs love. Look where i ended up, divorced and broken. My daughter should never feel that way. So why give her love in the first place?
Why did she grow up the way she did? I don't know however i know my daughter does, she is the only one to blame for this after all. I offered her my advice, but never did she listen. It was her 15th birthday when she finally spoke to me, like a real daughter would, let me know her feelings. She kept repeating two words; hurt and love. Before slamming the door in my face, she said something, something that's stuck in my mind:
"You never loved me! And you never will!"
She's right, I never have and I never will, it's for the best. To protect her.
When i say 'protect her', I don't mean physically, I mean emotionally. If i protected her from both, when will she learn to become independent? I think love is the enemy here. Hate is the friend. Hate is a strong word, but hate makes people stronger, love just makes them weaker. I want my daughter to grow into the strongest she can be. The rest will come easy. My daughter is, well was very important to me, but my life is more important, of course i did include her, introduce her to my friends. Its a shame i never got to meet him, this 'friend' of hers.
Sounded innocent to me, but obviously not. Why else is she here? Because she's a murderer, a killer, a failure! She took a knife and stabbed him. An innocent boy! I don't know why, I mean it's not like he got her pregnant, if that was the case she would have spoken to me. In one day she went from my 'perfect, protected daughter', to a failure, a murderer, and a 'psycho'. As for my child? Alone.
Now, In my last moments, i realize; I'm the failure, I'm the one to blame, and I'm a coward. I did love my daughter, Otherwise i never would have done this to myself. It's too late to take back what I have said. Here I lie overdosed, and hurt. Emotionally not physically.
