Today's officially Friday, August 9th, 2013.
I'm writing because I'm done, but I can't give up. I could never give up. And I think that if I have the strength to keep holding on, then maybe I have the strength to do this. To write. To let it all out.
I can't keep up with the secrets anymore, the one's whirling around in my mind. I have to put them out somewhere in the open, and I have to pray that somewhere someone might forgive me. I could never forgive myself.
And I hate myself, you see. I hate myself for writing this. I hate myself for feeling so weak, so useless, that I had to turn to writing about it to feel okay when I know that my problems and my self pity are no where near as terrible as so many others. Yet here I am. Writing. I'm screwed up so much, so I'm sorry if I don't write about it all in one day. Sometimes my life seems to be one continuous tragedy, but then again that's just me. And I'm a fucking idiot so what do I know?
I've tried speaking to people about this before; my past, my life, my anger. The problem is that I'm not good with trusting people. I'm not sure if I've ever been. Trusting, that is. But I feel like if I write about it here, then maybe I can feel better. Sharing my problems with hopefully welcome strangers rather than the people I can barely look in the face every day.
I should let you know now that I don't care about your opinions, they don't matter to me. I'm doing this for me. I need to do this, though it'll probably take time for me to get it out there. That's why I'm writing this as a diary, or a journal, whatever you want to call it. So I can write about what pisses me off and hopefully feel better about it rather than hold a grudge as I tend to do. So I can slowly uncover the layers that are me to reveal why I hurt so much rather than put it all out there at once for the world to see and end up feeling even worse about myself than I already do. There's only so much regret that I can feel in a day for what I've done.
Sorry. I suppose that if I'm writing this sort of like a diary, then I should stop repeating myself and get down to it. Well honesty's my best way of dealing with things like this, so I'm not going to fluff this up any or lie about who I am just because I'm posting this online.
My name is Ruth, kind of old-fashioned-y I know. I've got two middle names from my mother and my grandmother. All of us were named Ruth's, so I just inherited their middle name's. Grandma's dead. My mom hates me. Mom also hates dad. Dad's an occasional alcoholic (meaning he's been trying to quit on and off since I was a kid). He's been in the hospital at least three times and it was during the last one that we learned from the doctor that if dad does straight up alcohol again he's gonna die.
Hopefully that knocked a little sense into him but... I won't get into that now.
I'm seventeen, going on eighteen in the fall. I'm a night owl, so all of these entries are going to be made crazy late. Some of them probably won't make any sense. I've got two brothers, three sisters, and apparently one step brother whom I never met, but I don't think that last one likely. I'm the youngest. Everyone else is well one their way to being married except for me and my older brother John. John's a little over a year older than me.
I've been told that Johnny has ADHD, he doesn't take medication for it. Maybe it's just me, but I've lived for John for years and I know other people who have ADHD and they don't act like John does. Maybe it's the medication that makes the difference, all I know is that John acts like a little kid sometimes. More often than not that's his mindset. He get's along with people, is only able to take with people or have any kind of fun with kids half his age.
But then again, what do I know? Nothing. I over think things anyways, am suspicious about everything. I'm always wrong and stupid. I can barely hold on to a thought for a minute and second guess everything. So I wouldn't trust anything I say, I'm never right.
I live in a small town in New York. I know nothing about the world. Pop culture, movie stars, songs, bands, famous people in general, all are lost on me. I like songs with a fast beat and good lyrics, something you can understand or relate to.
I have a thing about people touching me-hugs, holding hands, standing pretty much on top of me-to the point where I'm really crazy to get away. Blame it on my past, but I can't stand it when people invade my personal space. I end up feeling weird. Afraid.
I have blue eyes and blond hair that I get from dad. My face from mom. I wear glasses. I'm the geek or weirdo that you'd find reading books all day and I'm terrible with social interaction of any kind. My town is small, and I don't live in the little village. I grew up with a bunch of boys who I couldn't hang out with once we all got to a certain age because I was a girl. Growing up playing with boys has made me extremely aggressive and competitive when playing a sport of any kind, even if I'm terrible at it. Compared to most girls anyway.
Guess I'm saying one of the reasons I read so much is because I have nothing better to do. The boys around here are all crack heads and I've already seen what drugs can do to a person. Besides that, I enjoy reading. It's better than living in reality.
I'm beginning to figure out who I am, who and what I believe in. I don't believe in myself. You should know that straight off.
I don't believe in flattery. I don't believe in love.
Right now my world's pretty much filled with hate, so if "love" did exist there'd be no room for it. There's no point in flattery. Why give a compliment to someone you don't mean? If you don't mean it, don't say it.
I hate that I believe in hope. And I believe in tragedies.
They're simple enough to understand. There's proof they exist. And there's a point in having hope, not that you could help having it or having a tragedy anyway. They're just there. It's easy enough to accept them.
I have hope in the possibility that love could exist, but I don't have faith in the world and I don't believe in it. Love or the world that is. At this point it seems like everyone's made one too many mistakes. I'm hopeless for myself.
Right now I'm not sure what to write about, I've just set out with a goal cut clear in my mind. I know what I want to do, but this being the kick start of my entries it's pretty much just filler. Me trying to catch you up.
I'm doomed to fail anyways. That's all I'm ever good for; all I'm good at. Just give it time and you'll see. Maybe. S'pose it depends on whether or not I keep this up for long enough. However I've heard that the later at night it is, the more a person is likely to reveal, and we all know I'm a night owl. So I suppose y'all will see somethin' of significance soon if I don't give up first.
But I've never been good with givin' up.
So it's a sure thing.