the hole.

I was crying alot when I wrote the previous entry...crying out of frustration and hopelessness. Crying makes me so tired. I can't even afford to be tired right now...

I'm back here...again. This hole in the ground. Whenever I begin to thinking that I'm climbing myself out, my dad pushes me right back in. So what is it about me that makes me want to keep trying to climb out? Wouldn't it just be easier at this point to just sit in the hole and make do with the little energy, self-confidence, and dignity I have left?

My parents have truly taken it all away. They're not even bad people. It's just that they have a way of making me feel so worthless that I question my existence. They're not drug dealers, murderers, gamblers, cheaters... They're almost worse...because they know how to make their own child sad without doing anything at all. It's just words.

In 7th grade, my English class had an assignment to write about what they'd take with them on an island if they were stranded. I said all I'd really need was paper and a long-lasting pen. I explained how words were absolutely the most powerful tool in the world. What else can be both so appealing and appaling when used differently?

I have a gift - I can get over things fast. I have to. Otherwise, I wouldn't have survived as long as I did. Sometimes, I wonder who my parents would have been had I just died when I was 14 like I meant to. Or if they had just had gone through with the abortion they kept thinking about. Is a sad existence better than no existence at all...

I'm deep in the hole now.