I envy those who can look forward to going home.
Yesterday I spent the day with my bestfriend and when I got taken home by my father, I was crying before we even got there. He was yelling at me for nothing. I got a headache the second I walked in the door. I cried myself to sleep that night because of the sheer agony I face being at home.
You may think I’m exaggerating, but I really do hate being at home. I can’t explain how much I truly do. I’m not accepted and always being criticized. I can’t be myself without persecution. I get yelled at every day and never once get praised, not that I do that much to be praised for I guess.
It takes a toll on my self-esteem and I hope my dad and grandparents realize this. I don’t feel like I matter to anyone nor do I see myself as a person who can do anything right. My dad may think that his harsh words strengthen me, but they do the opposite and tear me down and make me never want to be around him. Very little of what happens outside my home makes me feel as bad as what goes on behind closed doors. I’m called fat and stupid every day and I believe it because I’ve not been told different.
Just the other day I was explaining to my dad how someone I knew had a Weight Watchers meeting that day and he said “You should have gone along.” Does he not understand how much this hurts me? I cry in the safety of my room every day because of the unjustical words that are thrown at me by my housemates. Maybe it’s hard for them to understand this amazing concept, but I have feelings. I want to start being treated like it.