And I'm angry
A page in the diary "Wednesday's Child"
Written by vivica 17. Aug 2008 11:33 PM
Why do I do that to myself? One little thing reminds me of a million equally little hurtful things, and I get into these long reminiscings of all the bad things.
Tonight has a theme, thanks to an incident at work.
I'll put a language warning right here.
I hope I don't offend.
I'm 12. Daddy warns me that boys are bad, boys only want one thing and I shouldn't trust them. Silly Daddy, he worries too much...
I'm 13. My sister, 17, has a new boyfriend. He's 22. He confides to my sister that he is attracted to me and my twin sister. He goes on to move away with my sister, and subject her to his abuse for months. She comes home, bruised and bandaged. Oh, but he came back, too... my twin sister, my little sister. She didn't know any better, she never has.
I'm 14 now. My "friends" are trying to make me up, make me over, because "boys will never want me". A boy, 14 too, leaves his girlfriend for me and I refuse him. He's no good. He pins me down and holds a 10 pound compact bow to my chest, and calmly explains what would happen if his fingers "slipped" from the string.
Now I'm 15. I start going out with my boyfriend. The boys at school tease and ask me personal questions about our relationship. They tell me my sister is a whore. They tell me I'm a whore, slut, scrag for getting drunk, they tell me I'm making myself look bad because I smoke and swear. Or was it the other way around? I tell them to f*ck themselves, with a smile. I'm in my rebellious phase.
I'm 16 now and my head is shaved. And old man stops me in the street to tell me I'm gorgeous and can he touch my hair? I tell him I'm only 16 and he asks me to come home with him. I hurry away. Young men in cars scream abuse at my shaved head, they yell "get a f*cking wig" they call me "dyke". They, too, can f*ck themselves.
I'm in martial arts. I hate the way my small breasts are apparent behind my shirt. I hate my breasts.
I'm 17 and I'm angry. It's New Years. I'm with friends, and I'm hurting, so I get myself as messed up as I can on alcohol and marijuana. A friend of mine, he's gay. But I'm lying on the grass and he jumps on me. He rubs himself against me and tells me I'd be with him, not my boyfriend, if he weren't gay. I'm terrified, he's stronger than me. But all I can do is laugh, everything's just so funny. I don't know how to feel, he's such a good friend... He apologises profusely when I tell him later what he did.
I'm 18 in the music store. A young man starts talking to me. I can't meet his eye. I'll assume he's a bastard anyway. And when I'm drunk (and I often am), I need a friend to take care of me. People will try things, you see. Young men makes comments to and about me, inappropriate things. My sister becomes pregnant, he boyfriend becomes violent, psychotic from the drugs. I make her go to the police.
I'm 19 now. And I'm every teenage girl you've met.
And I'm angry.