It's Not Fair

What did I do wrong? Can you tell me? What the hell have I done to deserve to be treated like shit? To be walked all over, like an inconsequential piece of existence. I contribute. I do my part, for the greater good of humanity. Why am I treated like a child when it suits you and treated like an adult when you believe it to be required. I haven't done anything so inhumanely wrong that I deserve to be chastised and reprimanded. I shouldn't have to feel like my world is falling apart just because I don't fit into your mould. I am unique. There is no-one and will be no-one who is like me, so I'm sorry that I can't explain my erratic mood swings and unconventional behaviour styles. But maybe my dispositions and complexes are a result of the way you make me feel. Have you ever considered that if I wasn't feeling so insignificant then I may be a little different.

This is not fair, it's not fair that I have to sit in my room and hold back tears and rock myself to sleep. It's not fair that I get to feel unappreciated and dehumanised because of the way you make me feel. It's not fair that though my life has yet to begin I don't feel like I want it too. I don't need to be shown love, and care and emotions which I can't grasp. But is it to much to ask to be considered half human and able to make moral decisions, to not be undermined and have to bite my tongue and capitulate to your wishes. It's unfair that you ask for more of me when you already hold all the power. When you have free reign. What more can I give?

Most of all I wish I didn't feel this way because I know you feel the same way about me. I know I'm difficult, I have admitted that several times. But to feel exiquous and worthless over something so frivolous and petty makes me wonder as to the reasons for my existence. I can't cry anymore. It hurts to cry and my eyes won't shed anymore. It hurts too much to not be heard as a human. But mostly it hurts to not be spoken to like a person. Like I don't feel. Like I can't comprehend. My body can't physically sustain the emotional hurt.

It's not fair that my face can burn red with hurt when all I want is to be heard. It's not fair that when I'm upset and when I speak out, I'm besieged with guilt at your show of emotion. I should be able to say what I feel. I have noone to speak to, even as a release. It's not fair. My problems aren't important enough to be disclosed to those more important than me, because they seen superficial and all I'd get would be a perfunctory response anyway. I can't open up with the same problems everytime. People often get annoyed and think I'm looking for attention. But there are few, and I mean very few, whom I can actually trust with this information, whoever I don't want to be considered a burden, so my problems remain my own even if their extent is slowly eating away at me. Who I can trust and who will truly help.

Mostly I don't say anything because I don't feel important enough. And my lack of importance stems from the way I feel. My problems are trifling next to other people's issues, so who am I to want to discuss them and expect them to be appreciated as real problems. I shouldn't have to cry into a pillow and pull out my hair. I shouldn't have to be awake at three in the morning because it's the only time I feel truly at peace. I shouldn't have to hate you so much when you mean so much. I shouldn't have noone to talk to. I shouldn't have to be writhing with anger and pain whenever you speak. It's not right of me to expect something from you, anything, if I feel so little that I can't even reciprocate.

It's damaged now, beyond repair. I can't fix it, nothing you say can change it. We just have to live with it. It is too painful to think it has come to this. It hurts too much to think that maybe sometime in the past it could have been salvaged. But right now I feel nothing but dejection and a huge void. I feel empty when I think of what could have been normal. I feel neither happy nor sad when I overhear your news. You have turned me into an empty vesseI that finds life in something untrue. That holds onto the written word as a means of life, rather than finding life in spoken words. I feel nothing, and this feeling hurts more than any other. This feeling sinks me to the lowest part of my mental psyche and gives me the greates feelings of worthlessness, and it's not fair.