Here's one you might want to pay attention to. Prolly the closest I'll ever get to putting my feelings out there. And you can say whatever you want. Unless you've lived every day in my life, you have no idea what it's like living in this house. So keep your judgments to yourselves. I'm trying to talk about my feelings and actually open up for once. Don't like it? I don't really care.

The dictionary defines home as a house, apartment, or other shelter that is the usual residence of a person, family, or household. Family is defined as any group of persons closely related by blood.

Although these definitions are technically correct, the connotations of family and home expand much farther than this. To most, both these words mean acceptance, love, and belonging [just to name a few.]

I do not, and have not for a long time, feel like these people are my family. I mean yes, they are related to me by blood, but family is so much more than that. And this is not my home. Acceptance? Yeah, right. Belonging? No, I belong somewhere else. Definitely not here. Love? I hate these people.

I cannot stand being surrounded by this idiocy and immaturity. Oh, the immaturity is just…astounding. It kills me, a little, every day. And every day I say, “I cannot live another day in this house, with these people. This is not my home.” And the next morning, I get out of bed and do it all over.

Day after day after day. A lot of people who don’t see my family seem to believe that I live some perfect home life. In truth, my home life is one of the more poisonous parts of my life.

My sister, who never shuts up [I mean never.] and is a total bitch. My idiot brothers who have the combined maturity of an 11 year old [no offense to 11 year olds. =/] And the three of them and their constant fighting over the stupidest things. The second any of them open their mouth, I try to tune it out.

Not to mention the constant anger occurring. And when everyone else is angry…I’m angry. Except here’s the difference between me and them: I know how to walk away. Instead of stabbing you in the eye like I REALLY want to, I walk away. Quickly, so I don’t change my mind. >_>

And maybe this doesn't seem so bad. But to be honest, I can't quite tolerate going into details about what really and truly occurs behind closed doors. So I can't quite explain the Hell it is living here day after day. The comments and the fights and the stupidity and everything. When you go home...it's supposed to be a place to get away from problems and stress. When I go home, I just want to leave all over again.

I’ve kept my emotions inside for a long time. Always hiding how I really feel between my lies.

“I’m fine, everything’s fine.”
“It doesn’t matter”
“Don’t worry.”
“I understand.”
“Nothing’s wrong.”

So if I don’t belong here…where do I belong? With my friends who don’t care about me? With the few who do? Somewhere all alone?

I’m trapped. Trapped in this [ugly, fat, terrible] body, in this family of immature assholes, in friendships based on facades and convenience, and trapped in this town filled with people who hate me. Trapped inside my own low self esteem and self image. Trapped by anger, self-hate, emotions that I can’t let out, and by everything around me that affects me day to day.

I can’t stand my family. I can’t stand the apathy of my friends who I love and need. But most of all…I can’t stand myself.

I’ve lost all hope in you.
I want out of this place called home, tonight.
So goodbye for now.
I’m never coming back.
No, not tonight.

All eyes off me.
No more pathetic memories.