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Design All these things are sad and true and all of them are mine. I have no home. I have never had a home. Home is where there is always a place for you, right? I have no family. Or to be more honest about it right now, everyone has betrayed me. My grandmother who is supposed to be the one who really loves me, told me not to come home for Thanksgiving because there wasn�t room for me. Not room. Not home. My childhood was stolen from me. It was, they took it and left me without even memories to sustain me. For years I have been homesick. I�ve been away for so long, so very long. Shit, I feel so frustrated right now. Words should not betray me; they should be here for me now in my time of need, comforting me. Homesick, horribly for just years and years. So many seconds that dragged out into a lifetime of exile and now I am finally discovering the truth- I�ve never had a home. I�ve never been wanted, always been a burden on everyone that was related to me. Mom used to tell me all the time that I was her biggest mistake, and I see why. Why would anyone have a child that they did not want? More specifically what is it about me that makes me so fucking unwanted? I haven�t eaten anything since Friday. It�s Monday now. I made myself a pb&j sandwich when I got home from school today. Dad walked into the kitchen and asked me what I was doing. I was like, eating a sandwich. Him: Do you know how fattening peanut butter is? Why would you eat that? Me: I haven�t eaten since Friday, I am really hungry. He goes to the counter and picks up a mirror, he puts it in front of my face. Him: Look at this, you don�t need that. I looked into the mirror and saw my face. My face that secretly I have always thought was rather beautiful, with nice proportions, large eyes, cute nose, pouty lips. He was looking at my face and thinking about how fat it is. My own father hates how I look. I sat down and he walked into the other room. I tried to eat my sandwich, I couldn�t. How could I? How could I chew? How dare I try to nourish myself, to want to live, to accept that my body needs food, energy just like everyone else? He had said it all with a light smile on his face, in a kind tone as if he was joking. There is no way that could be a joke. Which fine, fine, fuck you too, you know? They all have betrayed me. They have all hurt me. They are a merry band of Judases and I hate them. There is no love in me for them. Then they ask me why I am cold. I want to tell them that it is because they never gave me any warmth. Instead I embrace anorexia, and choose to not eat. This is day four and I feel hollow because I am. I am going to let go, and let the insanity rein, because they are weak, because I am weak. I will gain their love. I will be their perfect child, and then I will move away and let them all fade to dust. They will then know what it is like to love, and love, and fucking love and not have it returned. They will grow old and senile and long for home, and there will be no home to be found- at least not with me.
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