It's official now.
My family hates me.
I turned 16 yesterday. Yay, 16. I got congrats from everyone, blabla, the usual masquerade. I tried my best to smile and thank everyone best I could. Of course, it wasn't enough. They were disappointed, told me to show grattitude and be happy on my big day. Inside, I was crying. I kept quiet. At night, my pillow was literally wet from my tears. No one noticed. I've perfected crying silently. Not bothering anyone.
Today, we celebrated with cake and biscuits at my mom's home. You have to know that I moved to my grandma's. I just couldn't bear it anymore there.
One of my grannys dumped me. The other one came, but she has so severe dementia she even forgot why she was there.
I received a chocolate bar and a razor. That's all. Chocolate and razor.
What did you get for your 16th birthday? Probably something like alcohol, movies, clothes, or something you really wished for. I told my family my wishes - none of them was heard. They weren't big. One book I've read in the library. A new dress. Just something lovable. No.
I didn't actually expect them to fulfill my wishes. But man. Really? You slapped me in the face.
During the "party", they barely spoke with me. They just stuffed themselves with cake and coffee. The kids running around screaming, yelling, crying. It was just too much. I fled into my room. The wrong reaction, of course. Mom came scolding me. It was my party. I should go and entertain the guests. As if I could. As if they were interested.
Of course I got sad. And of course they scolded me for being sad. When I told them the reason, they shouted at me. I shouldn't be so greedy. I should be happy with what I had. My boyfriend gave me more than all of you combined. He gave me attention. Love. Kind words. And the book I wished for.
I have strange thoughts in these times. Like I would mind if this truck behind me would just loose control. I wouldn't mind screaming loudly in a room full of people. I'd actually like to. I wouldn't mind my family dying. Yea, I'm fucked up.
So here I am, laying on my bed, tears being only hold back because I need to get down into the kitchen again, eating my chocolate bar and writing this.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not being good enough, dear family.
Happy Anniversary.