20years2many
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- Joined
- Feb 14, 2008
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- 71
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In the last few years I have left, it kills me that my parents don't know how much I love and appreciate them. I've been a nightmare my entire life, and I've said and done a lot of evil things to them. I don't even deserve to live for some of the things I've done, when all they tried to do was make my life better. Nobody deserves a child like me, and I'm sorry that they didn't drown me as a child to save themselves from the pain and disappointment that I cause them. They never show this disappointment, but I can see it in their eyes. I wasn't always evil- I remember scattered happiness at age 2, when life was perfect. Well, many unspeakable things happened and I began hating myself and the world. My parents still don't know that I was molested and tormented by racism, and I hope they never do. My low self-esteem always guaranteed that nothing I had was "good enough." Everything they did, everything they bought, all the time they spent, all the love they put into my life- I never appreciated it because I was never satisfied. I was a spoiled brat who tried to find happiness in greed and excess. People treated me like honeysuckle because of how I looked. I was too inhibited to lash out at the real causes of my problems, so I took everything out on my parents. Cursing, hitting, breaking things. I told them they were worthless because they were dark-skinned, foreign immigrants. I would put them down when I talked about them to my peers, just to look cool. I even blamed them for my brother's cerebral palsy. Every horrible thing I ever said to them haunts me every day, as it should. And they stood there and still loved me. I transformed from a straight A to someone who stopped caring completely, and they loved me. I spent their hard-earned money, wounded their pride, became a laughingstock, and they still loved me. They tried to help me in every way possible. "Get whatever makes you happy," they would say. They did so much for me. But I was too selfish to see anything. They held my hand and helped me every step of the way, and gave me advice. "Why don't you make some friends?" "Why don't you talk to some girls?" "Can we help you with your schoolwork?" "You can tell us what's wrong. We love you." I was too ashamed of myself to ask for help, so I resorted to defense mechanisms. I told my own parents to "shut the fresia up." I toured Europe in high school, spent all my money on alcohol, and called just spoke to them once in 3 months, only because I needed more booze money. I threw house parties, took their cars without asking, and completely used them. After many times speeding at 110 mph on the freeway while drinking, I knew my life was crashing. Senior year of high school, I picked my grades up and started being more positive, until my best friend (girl) led me on for months, stole my heart, but then hooked up with one of my other friends AT MY HOUSE. I've always been ugly and awkward, but I finally thought someone was more than tolerant of me. I was way wrong. This just confirmed how worthless I felt inside- I was a mere, grotesque plaything, and a fool for ever thinking that I was worthy of love. The first year of college was a disaster. I was away from the only people who truly cared for me, and I fell victim to drinking again. I since beat those demons and now I quit drinking, started exercising, started eating healthier, have a perfect GPA, and am not being completely horrible to my parents. However, deep down I know it is too late for me to fix the damage done. I won't be around for much longer. I don't care about all the other crap, but I need to tell my parents how much I love them and how sorry I am for all of this. I want things to be so wonderful again like they were at age 2, before I knew and lived all of this evil in the world.