The Diary of Me: September 5th

September 5th

Well, journal, I hope that you aren't expecting me to visit you every single day. Because I can tell you right now that it's never gonna happen. I barely get to see my own mother once every day, with everything that I do, so don't think that you're going to get to see me more than she does. 

I'm sorry, but you're just not that important. I have bigger things to deal with. 

So, I said in our last visit that I hate my life. You're probably wondering why. 

Well, there are many, many different reasons why. And I'm afraid that I'm not going to tell you all of them at once. These reasons are strictly need-to-know, and if you ever need to know, then I'll tell you. 

But, I'm not going to make you wonder forever. 

Reason #1: 

My father abandoned me and my mother (and ended up giving me severe identity crisis) 

Maybe some people will think that this reason isn't so bad, or that I could have had it worse by becoming an orphan or something equally bad. And they would be partially right. 

To some people, who have lived different lives and have different minds then I do, this reason may totally suck and makes me sound like a whiny bitch. 

But, just as I don't know what those people are going through with their situation, they have no idea what I am going through with mine. This is my life, and yeah, it could be a whole lot worse but it is the way it is. If I feel lie complaining about it, that's my prerogative

But, back to my father. 

My beginning is like the beginning of many babies these days; I was born to a teen mom who had no idea what she was doing at the time and a twenty year old father who was too much of a crackhead to give a shit about me or my mother. He got what he wanted, and he never cared about what came after (namely, me). 

It was a really bad time in my mother's life. And if it weren't for the way that she acted after her brother died, I would say that my conception and birth were the worst things to ever happen to her. 

But I did see her during that horrible time, and now they come in second. 

You know, I have never seen any pictures of my mother pregnant with me. Not one. I've never even seen an ultrasound image. (I'm not that old, they had those machines when I came to exist.) 

My mom has since got married and had a more kids, and she has hundreds of pictures like that for each of them. 

But not for me. 

Just one more thing that my father screwed up. Like my name. 

I had his last name originally, but when he decided to leave for good (I was about four months old) my mother removed him from my birth certificate. 

I've never met him. Never seen a picture. And until a few years ago, I didn't even know his name. Hell, I didn't even know that he existed. Until I asked my mother to explain to me what exactly child support meant. 

That was one of the biggest bombshells she ever dropped on me. It made sense though. I looked nothing like any of the members of my family. Mostly due to the fact that my father was apparently Latina. I always felt different, separate, from my brothers and sisters. 

I hate my life because my father didn't think that I was good enough, didn't love me enough to stay with me. And ever since I found this out, I've destroyed every relationship I've ever had. Wrecking them myself is easier then waiting for them to find out just how screwed up I am and then watching them leave like he did.  

Walking away from them is hard, but it's easier then letting them walk away from me.