bawiao
something
- Mar 14, 2023
- 5
I feel like i don't belong here. I dont want to be here anymore. 
(small vent/rant ab past)
I grew up in poverty; my mom had to go digging behind the bins in shops sometimes just to find me food. I had a father for about six years of my life. He was forced to stop seeing me because he was a drug addict. Eventually, my mom took me over to Italy when I was 11 for a "holiday" (I spoke no Italian, bear that in mind) until 5 months later, she told me she lied to me and we were living with her boyfriend, whom I had never met before. Obviously, I had a breakdown as I never said goodbye to my siblings, friends, etc. Our neighbors were cultists; there was loud music every single night and screams of fighting everywhere. On a few occasions, they broke into my bedroom while I was asleep when they were drunk. Once they broke into the flat, one of the guys and my mother had a tug of war with me, basically because they wanted me. I stayed inside my bedroom for almost 4 years, speaking to no one. I spoke to no teenagers or anything during that time. All I had were six dogs in my room. They never left. I began speaking to them like humans—and even began speaking to myself. I loved them dearly. I had two other dogs in the room before, but they both died. When I finally left, my mother threw the dogs out onto the street. Two of them were little puppies. My mom tried to kill me once. Her boyfriend told me that one night she didn't take her medications, and she went to my room with a knife while I was asleep, until he eventually stopped her. Every night, I slept with a knife next to me in case anyone tried touching me or tried to take my dogs away from me. I was on the top floor of a flat. I always wondered to myself if I should jump or not, but I didn't because I was afraid I wouldn't survive. That's all that's stopping me now. Every time I get an opportunity to throw myself in front of a train or something, I get a stupid little thought in the back of my head. "What if I survive?" That'd be so embarrassing. But now I think back on it. I wish I had jumped. That was my best opportunity to escape this hell, but I was too scared. I left Italy when I was 14, and I've never been the same since. I can no longer talk to people properly, and all I want to do is just die already. If I had an opportunity where I knew 100% I wouldn't survive and I had time beforehand to say goodbye to those around me, I would take it. I'm not scared of death; I'm scared of surviving. Should I even bother attempting it? I feel like a loser for being afraid to be honest. I just want to leave this hellhole behind and be at peace. That's all I want.
(small vent/rant ab past)
I grew up in poverty; my mom had to go digging behind the bins in shops sometimes just to find me food. I had a father for about six years of my life. He was forced to stop seeing me because he was a drug addict. Eventually, my mom took me over to Italy when I was 11 for a "holiday" (I spoke no Italian, bear that in mind) until 5 months later, she told me she lied to me and we were living with her boyfriend, whom I had never met before. Obviously, I had a breakdown as I never said goodbye to my siblings, friends, etc. Our neighbors were cultists; there was loud music every single night and screams of fighting everywhere. On a few occasions, they broke into my bedroom while I was asleep when they were drunk. Once they broke into the flat, one of the guys and my mother had a tug of war with me, basically because they wanted me. I stayed inside my bedroom for almost 4 years, speaking to no one. I spoke to no teenagers or anything during that time. All I had were six dogs in my room. They never left. I began speaking to them like humans—and even began speaking to myself. I loved them dearly. I had two other dogs in the room before, but they both died. When I finally left, my mother threw the dogs out onto the street. Two of them were little puppies. My mom tried to kill me once. Her boyfriend told me that one night she didn't take her medications, and she went to my room with a knife while I was asleep, until he eventually stopped her. Every night, I slept with a knife next to me in case anyone tried touching me or tried to take my dogs away from me. I was on the top floor of a flat. I always wondered to myself if I should jump or not, but I didn't because I was afraid I wouldn't survive. That's all that's stopping me now. Every time I get an opportunity to throw myself in front of a train or something, I get a stupid little thought in the back of my head. "What if I survive?" That'd be so embarrassing. But now I think back on it. I wish I had jumped. That was my best opportunity to escape this hell, but I was too scared. I left Italy when I was 14, and I've never been the same since. I can no longer talk to people properly, and all I want to do is just die already. If I had an opportunity where I knew 100% I wouldn't survive and I had time beforehand to say goodbye to those around me, I would take it. I'm not scared of death; I'm scared of surviving. Should I even bother attempting it? I feel like a loser for being afraid to be honest. I just want to leave this hellhole behind and be at peace. That's all I want.
