I don’t like it when you leave. It means I have no one to talk to. It means I spend my time alone in my room with only a laptop to keep me company. It means I have no way to let out how I feel.
Mom and dad are always busy. They don’t seem to notice anything except the state of my bedroom and the catbox. I never get praise, I only get punishments. Nothing I do is enough anymore. Nothing I do is worthy of anything except their anger.
Mom sits on the computer all day. She’s not always doing schoolwork. She’s usually on facebook. When she is doing schoolwork, no one is allowed to go in the family room, because it distracts her. she’s still not eating much. I worry about her all the time. She never seems to get enough sleep. She won’t tell me how she feels.
Dad sits in bed all day and he complains about his back nonstop. I know he’s hurting, but he thinks the physical therapy is worthless, and refuses to do anything the doctors tell him. I’m afraid to go in their room now. All that happens when I do, is I get yelled at. I’m not used to having to be gentle. He always tells me I’m not a normal girl. “a normal girl wouldn’t want swords.” “A normal girl wouldn’t be so obsessed with anime.” He says. It makes me feel bad. It makes me feel like he wishes I was normal. It makes me feel like I’m not good enough. I feel worthless.
You know, they wonder why I never come out of my room. They don’t understand that my depression is getting worse and worse, or that I am in physical pain because of it. I don’t think they realize I hate myself and my life. Mom doesn’t realize that by not telling us when her condition worsens, it hurts not only us, but her as well. Dad doesn’t realize that we’re not perfect, and we make mistakes. He doesn’t see that I’m not the type of girl who likes to sit down and do her homework right away. I like to get my energy out, so that I can actually focus on something.
They tell me I’m eating too much. I’m just trying not to be like mom. I’m trying to eat enough for the both of us, I guess. They don’t know that I don’t usually eat much of the lunches they pack for me. I usually just have a handful of fruit snacks and a few fries. It makes me feel bad to eat in public; in front of my boyfriend. I make up for not eating breakfast and a proper lunch by eating when I get home.
I don’t like it here, Becka. I don’t like missing you.