Sunday, 7 February 2010
The anorexic social worker.
Warning: Rant alert.
It's not me, it's you. It's not them, it's us.
I took care of them, I fed them, I nursed them. I've done nothing but trying to be the perfect friend to them.
But I was nothing but a social worker to them and so when I needed them they could let me down. My friends abandoned me more than my own mother has.
My friends have always been so important to me. They were my everything, they were my true family as I mentally kicked myself out of my dysfunctional family on my twelfth birthday. I should have known, from the moment I saw them as my family, they would disappoint me. I had never thought that they would be the main reason that I am anorexic, again. They literally told me that; even though I have been there for them all the time, even though I have been standing in the middle in the night in front of their doors to help them out, to be there for them; I mean nothing to them.
All those years have been a waste, all those tears have dried up and I am now starting to wonder why I am even hanging out with them.
They are not nice, they are the freaks of the school; I am the social worker who feels sorry for them and hangs out with them. - Not trying to be arrogant, I am simply mentioning the facts. I am not arrogant, I am fed up, pissed off.
I could walk up to them, hit them, destroy them as they have destroyed me.
Why would I even try and be a social worker? I wanna be a lawyer, I wanna be hardcore, I wanna kick ass later on in my life.
It hurts even more that out of everyone I know; my mother has been the one saying I deserve better. The one person on earth who hates me, who's been telling me she can't love me since my eight birthday. The woman who hit me, who tried to commit suicide in front of my eyes has been telling me to be better; that I deserve better.
She told me to be extraordinary.
I will not fail her, I will not fail the one person who has been right all along. My friends, or well, my classmates have been wonderful, inviting me back into the higher ranks of society, and I like it there. There is no drama there, no backstabbing twats.
I wanna tell my so called friends what they've done to me. How I was healthy, how years of trying and talking to psychiatrists had me healed, how I even started to enjoy food until they came along. They broke me, over and over again. They hurt me, they made me gasp for air and hold onto the one thing, that has never failed me. I wanna yell at them, and blame them that I am sitting here thinking of the calories in all my meals.
I've never been a person who would look for revenge, but right now I would do anything to hurt them. But I am better than that, I've been rising above them and I will not be like them; I'm better than that.