i have so many regrets, and i've made so many mistakes. but now that i really think about it, the worst one has gotta be you.
trigger warning : mentions of abuse, alcohol, violence, trauma, self-infliction, etc.
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i figured everything would be fine after making a few adjustments to myself. i thought that i was just making small changes to small things that were unimportant that i thought would just make me feel better about myself because of how imperfect i was and still am. but after a lot of self-reflection, i now realize that i'm not really myself anymore. i've been forcing myself to grow so quickly that i didn't even realize it before. but now i do. at first, i was just focused on my looks. when i was a kid, i was so desperate to have dimples for some reason. maybe it was because of my sisters. maybe it was because of my friends. or maybe it was because i just didn't wanna have such a simple smile. whatever reason it was, i really just wanted to be like everyone else. so everyday, i'd take my mother's eyebrow pencil, go to the bathroom, and draw a dimple. only on the right side of my face, though. now i'm stuck with an actual dimple on only the right side of my face. but now that i think of it, i've always had only one dimple on my face. it just wasn't as obvious, and only slightly showed when i smiled. it's the same now. then, i started focusing on my personality and how i felt towards certain topics. everytime i felt some sort of way about something, everyone else felt different. so i was always disagreed with. i started to notice that everything i liked was everything my siblings hated. everything my siblings despised. including my looks. i was okay with my looks at first, but they started to argue with me everyday. they called me ugly everyday. they called me disgusting everyday. and i guess it's mainly because i look exactly like my father. my father was an alcoholic, and he abused my mother in every way he could. verbally, emotionally, mentally, physically, and whatnot. he did whatever he could to fuck her up. and no matter what, she kept going back to him. she kept loving him. no matter what. so my sisters ended up hating him. and as a kid, i hated him, too. now, i just don't know how to feel towards him. he's my father. i guess he's trying now. but he still hasn't properly apologized. anyway, the more they started to compare me to him, the more self-conscious i became. the more i started to change myself. so everytime my siblings brought something up and asked for my opinion or just what i thought about it, i pretended to think exactly like them. like if it came to music taste. i pretended to like the same genres and artists as them. i pretended to know all these people. i tried so hard to make them proud, and sometimes i still do that. but i'm trying to change. and hopefully my father is, too.
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the first time i fell in love was with a boy. the second time i fell in love was with a girl. being honest, i still have feelings for both of them. for both of them, it's been a fairly long time ever since. and for both of them, at first i just thought that they were simply attractive. simply pretty people. but i began to feel so much towards them. their personalities were just so interesting. i loved how they made me so curious. and so i began to crave more. more than just having to sit back and stare. i wanted more. i want more. with the boy, i tried so hard. but we always ended up arguing in the end. i don't know why. i just couldn't seem to figure him out. and it was the same with the girl. i just couldn't figure her out. i ended up confessing to her, and we ended up forming a relationship with each other. we held hands, talked, hugged, laughed, and typically just hung out. as time progressed, i stupidly fell in love with her even more. and it's one of the worst things i've ever done. one of the shittiest most fucked up decisions and mistakes i have ever made. because we've been going on-and-off continuously, we've been having so much drama, and we've been been arguing so much more than we should. and what's even worse is that i still love her. and that's when i started to doubt our relationship even more. when we first argued. i was already so suspicious of the kind of person she was because she interested me so much. but goddamn. 'cause it was so bad that i started cutting myself again. and she started dating other people again. and she started cheating again. and i started getting jealous again. and i wanted to scream at her so bad. i still do. but i just couldn't. there was and is so much doubt. but i still love her. and i fucking hate myself for it. so much. i wish i could hate her, but i can't. and i hate it. that's why i try so hard not to love. and i hate it.
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i've loved before. i've loved a little bit, but a lot. and i regret it all. all of it. 'cause the more i'd love, the more i'd hate. and the more i did both, the more i began to realize what i lack. what i lacked before and what i still lack. i began to realize everything. i noticed everything. and god i regret it all. every single bit of it. 'cause loving made me realize how much i do and don't deserve. like my mother. i don't deserve her. 'cause she's been through so much. and i've been through so little. sure, i've been abused like her, but it was never as bad as her. the abused and the abuser. honestly, i've been both. in so many ways. i've abused myself, i've abused others, i've abused nature, i've abused so many things. but so many things abused me. and i hate to think about that. 'cause i love my mom. even though she abuses me. even though i've been abusing her. even though i've been abusing her love. 'cause her love is abuse. 'cause that's all she was taught when she was a child. abuse. abuse. abuse. 'cause that's all her mother had gained from being with her husband. abuse. abuse. abuse. and it runs in the fucking family. abuse. so many types of abuse. verbal. physical. emotional. mental. sexual. and it all hurts, no matter how much. it all hurts. 'cause the first boy who touched me was a stranger. he's still a stranger. it was at school. in 6th grade. he stuck his hand up my vagina. even with my pants on. even with all my clothes on. even at school, a supposedly safe place. even at a place like school, something like that happened. he touched my vagina. so roughly. and then he ran away. and i cried. i sobbed, in fact. i fucking poured. and as much as i love my mother, all she asked was if i wanted her to do anything about it. i said no because i didn't expect her to ask me that. i was hesitant. scared. she didn't even ask me if i was okay. and i ended up cutting myself. again. and it made me doubt myself and think about what i lack. what i lacked. what i still lack. and it all hurt. i wasn't even asked if i was okay. the first person i told was my boy best friend. 'cause i knew only he would understand at that moment. a boy touched me. and i told another boy. that other boy understood. and nobody else did. that's what made it hurt even more. and maybe i deserved that. but thinking about it now, i don't think i deserved that. all i did was what i did every other day. i attended my classes. i talked to my friends. i did my work. i starved myself 'cause of my doubt. i loved the same people. it was all the same. except for when he touched me. and i fucking hate him for it.
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