I had a really strong ending in mind last night but I seem to have forgotten it.....
What was I leading up to? I remembering being really energetic and determined but now I just feel tired.
Picking up from where I left off;
I bounced around a few homes and houses for a while.
Every time it seemed I was starting to get back on track with my life something would happen and I would have to restart over.
I finished school and didn't really have any desire to continue my studies.
Plus my marks were horrible.
All I could think about was getting as far away from everything as I could.
I eventually settled on China as my goal, deciding merely on hope. I had been told you could make money there teaching English and the airfare was fairly cheap.
I picked up part time jobs here and there but didn't seem to be making any progress towards my goal.
As a last resort I moved in with my father down in Sydney. I hadn't seen him in 9 or so years.
This soon proved a mistake.
I had known he did drugs, I just wasn't aware to what extent or how badly they had screwed him up mentally and emotionally.
I had escaped one addict only to end up with another.
He would berate me every morning as I slept on the couch, calling me a cunt and slut and bitch and explaining in extreme detail how I was the fault his life was so bad.
I tried my best to sleep through these, I knew the truth.
I had seen him maybe 5 times in my life before moving in with him, talked on the phone maybe 20 times and my mother had always bitched how he never paid a single cent of child support nor could the govt find him to make him.
Therefore his shitty job, massive debt, tiny apartment couldn't be my fault. Nor had I in any way throughout his life been in a position to sabotage his romantic interests as he claimed. He loved to blame me for his failed relationships, stating all his exes had left him because he had a daughter.
I'm not sure how but he also blamed me for the fact that he never went to get his drivers licence and thus didn't have a car.
I was finally making enough money and moving towards my goal now though so I decided to stick it out.
It wasn't too bad as long as I stayed away from home as much as possible.
I got kicked out a number of times but luckily I had friends who took me for a few days and I never had to miss work.
He also threatened to move out a few times and I'd have to take care of all the bills and rent by myself.
Honestly I didn't care. The first time he'd said he had a new place and was leaving in 2 weeks, I panicked a bit. But after doing the math and the fact that I'd had to pay the rent a few times by myself and was currently buying all the food in the house, I realised his share wasn't too much and I could cover it while continuing to save, albeit at a much slower pace.
Of course he never acted upon any of his threats and I moved smoothly and steadily towards my desired goal.
He also occasionally found distractions in some international travellers who lived in the apartment down the hall.
For a few weeks, he was obsessed with filming this Mexican girl and screaming obscenities at her as she walked past. He was convinced every word in Spanish she spoke was a swear word against him and that she somehow was trying to ruin his life. He was trying to gather evidence to get her evicted. I'm surprised he didn't end up arrested.
My road would have one more bump before I left the country.
Namely waking up one night to my naked father leaning over me, pushing his filthy hand down on my shoulder.
I fought him off and screamed at him that he was a sick, sick bastard. When he realised he wasn't going to get his way he scuttled off to his bedroom and slammed the door.
I locked myself in the bathroom and didn't sleep the rest of the night. I felt disgusted and dirty.
I weighed my options and decided not to move out because I was so close and moving again would most likely wipe out my savings.
I slept on the cold floor of that bathroom for 2 months because it was the only room in the house with a lock.
Sometimes though, my father would get drunk and I'd hear him scrabbling at the lock. Trying to get it undone.
I admit during these times I was a coward and hid under my blanket. Luckily he never did get it open.
Towards the end of my 18th year, I reached the exact amount I needed to get out of the country. I applied for a job, got it and started preparing to leave.
I was ready to go in 3 days.
I probably should've wait 2 more weeks so I had more than the minimum needed.
But at this point I was desperate to get out of the country by any means possible that I didn't care if I starved for a while being getting my first pay.
And so I left and had a kickass time in China.
But that's a much longer story.
Now for the part we've all been waiting for; reflection time and kicking my own ass into gear.
Lately I've been finding myself saying to myself; "Hey, y'know what? Maybe it's okay if you don't get what you want out of life. Maybe its okay to settle for the middle. I mean plenty of other people never get what they want and live relatively happy lives."
Right now, I say no. Nothing less than the best is good enough.
I have fought too hard to just settle for 'okay'
Sure, I could've wallowed in self pity and settled for getting my own place and a shitty job in my own country.
Some people even now talking about killing themselves over less, tell me I should give up. That I should realise how terrible the world is after all I've been through.
I haven't even been through anything.
You want some perspective, go read a "boy called it". His mother beat him, starved him and kept him as a virtual slave down in the basement from a very young age.
For fun she made him eat his own puke and a diaper full of babyshit.
I may have been mentally and emotionally abused, had my own father try to rape me but I have never been made to eat my own puke and babyshit.
There is always, ALWAYS someone worse off than you are now.
I have sat there, shaking and crying, surrounded by 8 big bottles of morphine, a bottle of sleeping pills and some wine to wash it all down with.
I have lifted the morphine to my lips and tried to steel myself to drink it. I know what its like to feel desperate
I refused to give up.
Life has too much to offer and glory is the only option.
We have 50 to 70 years to hammer as big a goddamn mark on history as we can.
You want to end up dirt, with no-one remembering your name or giving a damn about you 10 years after you die? Then go ahead, quit. Be lazy, give up without trying hard, commit suicide.
It's your choice and your waste.
We all have to die, I intend to deserve it.