But on a more serious note, I wish I could sleep right now. I know damn well what's keeping me up. Memories. Memories of hurt, anger, sadness. Memories of me getting hurt and abused in my life in the earlier years.
I come from a small town in NJ. I will not say which one, as it's small and full of toxic small minded inbred type losers. Everyone knows each other, and with that comes the everybody knows everyone else's business. Yea fuck that. I moved to that horrible town when I was only six years old turning seven. My then parents (disowned and no contact for a few good years now) was moving into this smaller house than what we were in. I didn't know what the hell was happening. Except we were moving to be closer to my maternal grandparents that just moved from South Philly. At the time I was kinda relieved and happy about it. This was the time when my bullying was starting. There were kids on my school bus that were older, picking on me, for whatever reason I cannot remember it was so long ago. Ever since then, my life was changing, and changing. And I mean changing. They ended up moving right down the street.
I remember this one time I was so young, we used to live in cul-de-sac. (in the old town) There was this girl probably around the same age as me, and I was never socialized properly if at all. For some reason I wanted to kick this chicks ass. Don't ask me why I don't think I took kind to girls. I have always been a tomboy, I think because I felt resented that I was not born a boy by my former father. So anyways, I go back into the house and complain of this other chick outside giving each other dirty looks and shit. My asshole of a father hands me this huge ass yellow thick wire, I'll never forget this fucking wire. Told me to go back outside and tell this other chick that I'd "bust her". Well after that her mother came knocking on our door (as would any other concerned parent would, except the psychos I was born into). Needless to say that I always had a hard time making friends. I wonder why.
When I was in the first grade I was always being sent to the principles office. I never understood why that shit was happening. This one other girl that I actually managed to get along with was always down in his office too. Looking back now it's obvious she didn't have a very happy home life either. This was the mid 80's, where the only thing people really knew was David Hasslehoff, not about toxic stupid assholes and selfish parents.
After moving to the new town, I got my hair cut. Now I had these awesome, luscious brown curly locks. My hair looked better than Beyonce. No lie, my hair was the shit. I needed to get a trim, but as a child I couldn't say that I just wanted a trim, I said I wanted to cut it. I mean what the fuck I was six! So this hairdresser at the department store at the time asked what to do. My egg donor of a mother told her to give me a pixie cut. Like bitch this isn't the fucking sixties anymore you stupid twat! So when all my hair was gone I wanted to cry. This was the beginning of that fucking nightmare life. Starting a brand new school with a fucking haircut looking like a boy. Way to go assholes.
And my God did I get laughed at. It didn't take me long to hate that place and want to move back to the old town, which was only the next town over literally. My former parents love to move around a lot. They'll find a reason why they don't like either the house or neighborhood they're in, and want to bail. This happens every couple to few years. The funnier part is they always buy and sell. With all the moving, they should rent. They just moved into the house they're in now maybe a year or two ago, they'll probably end up moving again. Always a reason, this house they're in now has a finished basement that my sister is living in with her baby and baby dad. We'll get into this later.
I already also remember getting put in "timeout" a lot in school. I was always in the corner, all I could remember was being told I was 'bad'. Umm OK. Like it was my fault I wasn't socialized and then on top of that I get ridiculed and bullied every fucking day!
My clothes were hideous. There used to be this store, and I thank God it's no longer there, it's a scrubs store now. I still wouldn't shop there if I pursued my medical field job. Every visit in that store was unpleasant. It was called House of Bargains, to me it was House of Horrors, other than the one I used to reside in. If it was the right price, it came home, stylish didn't matter. And I still had the ugly haircut. My sister got most of my old clothes, but not the ugly ones I was forced to wear. I felt like a clown going to school everyday, and worse, felt like it.
If it were some other kids birthday in class, their mom would bring in either cupcakes or donut holes. Well mine didn't, this fucking bitch only cared about buying her expensive mall counter makeup with her bitch of a mom. Honestly both of them needed to eat that shit to make themselves pretty on the inside. I remember one time I was in the backseat of my egg donors car, and her mother was in the front passenger seat. I think my sister was next to me. All I said was that I wanted to be a singer when I grew up. (You know, normal shit kids say). Well this old bitch then in turn says to me "You gotta sleep around for that!" OK, thanks for crushing my spirits bitch. What fucking ever. We'll get into that more too.
My former egg donor would always drag me out with her shopping and running errands with her mom and sister. I couldn't stand it, I never understood why I couldn't stay home to play in my room as I always did. Her reasoning I guess at the time was to give her my sperm donor a break. He probably got drunk all day, that's all he did and does, drink like a fish when he wasn't working his job in the city.
I would always get bad report cards after the move. My grades weren't the best, and this lame ass school district had these sections on the report cards. Well 'getting along with others' was always marked unsatisfactory like it was my job as a child. How could I get along with others when they're always bullying me!
I was bullied at school and at home, I never stood a break unless I was sleeping. I remember getting whacked with the leather belt this piece of shit sperm donor was wearing. The buckle on the belt hurt the worst and left the worst bruises. All because "I was a bad child". It was always the most hateful and angry punishments when this coward was drinking. He used to work as a diesel mechanic until he retired early and worked for the county. Everyday when he got home, he was loud and obnoxious, and thirsty. And I say thirsty I mean let's crack open a can of Coors Light to start. Maybe have another or two. And then with dinner that this retarded bitch couldn't cook would be a shit ton of Carlo Rossi burgundy wine. If I had a bad day at school, there was no hope. I would get the living day lights beaten out of me. Because "I was a bad child."
Misanthropy
