Dear Whoever Cares Enough To Listen To Me Rant/Vent,                                                                        December 12th, 2011

Well you wanted more casual posts. Every once and awhile. So here’s one. This is essentially what most bloggers do. They journel the days of their lives online for everyone to see. My life is very complicated to an outsider, as most lives are, so do your best to follow because I’m not explaining every part you don’t know the context to.

My day was…horrific. Well not really when you consider some of the other days I’ve had this month and last. My life is filled with only the downs it seems. I feel like a failure at everything even though I know I’m not. I’m a failure as a friend because I didn’t know Alexis tried to commit suicide. I feel like a failure as a daughter because I’m constantly being yelled at for not doing a good enough job, for whining, for everything even though I know I do my best at everything. I feel like a fail at school because I don’t have a 4.0 GPA and some people do, I get crap for being an honor student but not having the special little 4. I do have a 3.995 GPA thank you very much. I’m a fail at school because I got 1 problem wrong and I have a B in one of my classes even though I know I’m not at risk of failing the class. I’m a fail at being a sister because my sister won’t confide in me or rarely talk to me. I feel like a fail at singing because I always hear wonderful voices that are always on time. I try to find the positive, the good, the just, the honesty, the courage, the beauty, in everything, in the life that surrounds me. I try but I fail at that too because I give into the excuse that there is so much grey, and darkness, and bad in the world that it’s too hard to find the good. I feel like a fail as a human because I am a black sheep, so to speak, I do not think regular thoughts, I wonder about death and life, the meaning of life, and what I’m doing alive, I wonder about stupid stuff, I have to dive into the complexity of something to understand the simple parts, I am a failure in every possible way. But even as I say that I just know it’s not true. I mean I tried to journel, I lost my journel. I feel horrible even though I know I’m not a complete failure. I mean, I have all A’s in my studies and I know some people who are actually failing the same studies. I feel like a failure as a friend once again because I had to go out with, and then break up with Jacob, and ruin our friendship at the same time. What a mistake that was. I’m also a fail at being a friend because I cannot tell my “friends” any of this. I cannot tell them the hell I go through constantly. What it’s like to be yelled at every moment you’re awake. The hell of looking at the strongest man in your life and seeing him wither away, the hell of not going to sleep for fear those words were your last words to him. The hell of watching him fall. Of catching him. Of the pain as your back slams into the fence as you lose balance while catching him. The tears constantly falling and stinging at your eyes ready to fall. I feel like a failure as a daughter because I see all these moms and daughters walking through the mall together and I don’t have that, I can’t have that, and I want that. I want a relationship with my mom that she doesn’t want or have time for. If not a relationship, at least to be able to confide in my mom and tell her my thoughts about our situation. Why the hell do I have to be the strong one and watch her cry? In the movies it was the kids who broke down and ran to their mommys and started crying. Not the other way around. Why can’t I do that?  I’m a fail at being a person someone would want to be around because of the sarcastic, mean, pessimistic, negative monster this battle has turned me into when I used to be nice and have friends that I could talk to and laugh with, and be myself around instead of being this guarded dragon, ready to yell and attack at any second. What good does it have to have a councilor and get no council. To be able to tell nobody. To not being able to explain how your throat gets tight when you think of the days when you could just be a kid, surrounded and joking with your family. What is it like to have to grow up and be an adult at 13. What’s it like to listen to your mom talk about how life’s going to be awesome after your dad dies? It’s not fun. It’s not easy. It is life. And I’m sick of it. I want to scream but I can’t because I know they’d hear me as they are only in the living room. To raise your voice even a fraction of an octave in anger and no you’re going to get yelled at or backhanded. What’s it like to sit with your “friends” in silence because you didn’t get to go see that movie premire, or you didn’t get to go to that sleepover because you had to stay home and babysit a grown, dying man and feed him every two hours. Both meds and liquid food through a tube in his stomach. What’s it like to have to go to a lawyer and sit in as they discuss wills, and who gets what, at what age, and have to transalate. What’s it like to force the pain-inducing spit in your throat down. What’s it like to have to do the gardening, your schoolwork, mantain cars and animal pens, cook, clean, babysit, and take care of 2 dogs, 9 chickens, and 5 ducks(a small farm)? The word may never know. The kids my age will never understand. That’s why I don’t talk to them and I think them immature and spoiled and selfish. But I can’t blame them for being a kid. Being a teenager. It’s not their fault I was robbed. Nobody understands, but the family, the spouse, the child of someone fighting cancer…….they already know. Or else it’ll be quick learning.

Here’s some quotes I thought were cool even though they don’t nescessarily relate:

-Dreams are illustrations from the book your soul is writing about you. — Marsha Norman ((WordPress actually gave me this one.))

“As I said there is nothing wrong with failing. Pick yourself up and try it again. You never are going to know how good you really are until you go out and face failure.” -Henry Kravis  ((The last name of this guy strikes me as being familiar. Wasn’t some guy named Lenny Kravitz or something? I think it’s one of the Hunger Games cast…))

-“Don’t be afraid to fail. Don’t waste energy trying to cover up failure. Learn from your failures and go on to the next challenge. It’s OK to fail. If you’re not failing, you’re not growing.” -H. Stanley Judd ((I LOVE the way this guy thinks.<3 He put it simply and easy to understand and it’s true. Awesome. Awesome. Awesome.))

                                                                                               I’m now passing the magic talking stick, eshy,

P.S. I hate sharing personal stuff. I also hate how many times I used the word “fail” and “failure” but ya know…..I don’t care. This was a vent sooo….doesn’t matter.

P.P.S. I’m a fail at writing blog posts, this post is an excellent example of that.

P.P.S. I think I ought to ask about therapy or some crap because this counciling isn’t working and no way am I taking meds, man I would die if people knew I had to take happy pills. And no doubt my mother would open her mouth and tell all her friends.

[Mini Letter Inside of Big Letter, Shall We Call It: Dear Whoever….#52A? Feel free to read even though it’s for a specific person who will never read it.]

Dear Whoever…, 12/12/11

I’ll keep this short because I know you don’t like reading. I never understood that- how we are so very much alike, that everyone that knows me immediately knows I’m your daughter, but you hate to read and write and do so as little as you can but I love to read and write and do so as much as I can. I love you. But I hate you. Pointless, I know but the world does not often have logic, I have learned. I have learned a lot from you over these 13 years. This is not farewell, this is not the last goodbye. It’s merely a letter that is never to be sent. I know you don’t use computers so I have nothing to fear. Anyways, today when you were yelling at me after I caught you from falling, after my back got cut up from being slammed into the dog pen from impact, after the bitter, stinging tears started burning my eyes and I held out my hands waiting to catch you if you fell again, I learned something. I learned why you yell so much. It is not to be in control. It is not to appear powerful. It is because it is easier for you to yell and look mad to others(mostly me), then for others to see you cry and sad. I haven’t figured you out. You should be scared. But then you shouldn’t be. Because exposing this tidbit of you, means exposing the same tidbit about me, and I’m not ready to do that. This tidbit, about the yelling is better than letting the sadness show, well that’s just one more way I’m like you.  -your daughter, eshy, (Kayla-Ann)