Post by Taurus Tash on Aug 18, 2007 14:46:01 GMT -5
A friend once asked me how I could stand being called cute.
I guess that shows how little she understands me. Although, I really shouldn't be surprised- she only sees me as a short, little brat who won't act her age. What she doesn't know is that there's a reason why I act the way I do, why I make sure everyone mistakes me for a child. In some ways, I want to be a child. Being called cute doesn't bother me in the slightest. Most fourteen year olds take offense at the comment, but not me. I love it when people, especially women, call me cute. Yes, yes, look at the cute little girl. See how adorable she is? Don't you just want to bring her home and love her forever?
Mom didn't.
Ironic, isn't it? The one person in the world who is supposed to love you unconditionally...doesn't. I was never cute in her eyes.
But for all I know, I'm wrong. Maybe she just doesn't want to show it.
I hid the bruises that she gave me under the cute little skirts and bunny sweaters to arouse the maternal instincts of women I'd never met. I'd seek happiness in a distant coo or comment from a stranger, someone I'd never see again. I would carry around a stuffed animal and pretend I was eight years old or younger. The saddest...or happiest thing was that people actually bought it. It even got to the point where I was dared to dress up like an elementary student to infiltrate the school's building!
What the strangers didn't see was a fourteen year old girl who has bipolar disorder and was raped when she was six years old.
It always makes me wonder, or even upsets me, that everyone else is growing up around me. Half of my friends aren't even virgins (intentionally) I guess it's selfish of me to think that everyone would stop growing up for me, but all the same, it's lonely. And all this because I was deprived at a young age of what I strive for, my addiction- affection. Physical affection to me is like air- I need it to breathe. The indescribable warmth I feel when a friend or even a stranger embraces me is a happiness beyond compare. It reminds me of memories of when my own mother loved me. Those memories are vague and foggy, but I remember them all the same. The hugs, the kisses and the hand holding...they all seem so far away, but they're in my heart.
I think that because I was deprived of maternal love and affection when I was a child and because of the rape, I'm bisexual. (80% towards girls and 20% towards boys)
Or maybe there's just something seriously wrong with me.
I guess that shows how little she understands me. Although, I really shouldn't be surprised- she only sees me as a short, little brat who won't act her age. What she doesn't know is that there's a reason why I act the way I do, why I make sure everyone mistakes me for a child. In some ways, I want to be a child. Being called cute doesn't bother me in the slightest. Most fourteen year olds take offense at the comment, but not me. I love it when people, especially women, call me cute. Yes, yes, look at the cute little girl. See how adorable she is? Don't you just want to bring her home and love her forever?
Mom didn't.
Ironic, isn't it? The one person in the world who is supposed to love you unconditionally...doesn't. I was never cute in her eyes.
But for all I know, I'm wrong. Maybe she just doesn't want to show it.
I hid the bruises that she gave me under the cute little skirts and bunny sweaters to arouse the maternal instincts of women I'd never met. I'd seek happiness in a distant coo or comment from a stranger, someone I'd never see again. I would carry around a stuffed animal and pretend I was eight years old or younger. The saddest...or happiest thing was that people actually bought it. It even got to the point where I was dared to dress up like an elementary student to infiltrate the school's building!
What the strangers didn't see was a fourteen year old girl who has bipolar disorder and was raped when she was six years old.
It always makes me wonder, or even upsets me, that everyone else is growing up around me. Half of my friends aren't even virgins (intentionally) I guess it's selfish of me to think that everyone would stop growing up for me, but all the same, it's lonely. And all this because I was deprived at a young age of what I strive for, my addiction- affection. Physical affection to me is like air- I need it to breathe. The indescribable warmth I feel when a friend or even a stranger embraces me is a happiness beyond compare. It reminds me of memories of when my own mother loved me. Those memories are vague and foggy, but I remember them all the same. The hugs, the kisses and the hand holding...they all seem so far away, but they're in my heart.
I think that because I was deprived of maternal love and affection when I was a child and because of the rape, I'm bisexual. (80% towards girls and 20% towards boys)
Or maybe there's just something seriously wrong with me.