Dear Die-ary...

Judging by my previous posts, you'd think my... life... was fine and dandy, and everything just peechy keen. *reads what she just put* Anyway, I tell you it's not. Just not. Here's the truth of my household's domestic violence that I've kept hidden for about 15 years. Violence to me.

My family's never liked me. I've been told in my face that I was an accident, by both parents. Even my brother asked my Dad why Mom never got an abortion when I was conceived. Oh, how it is to know you are wanted! Of course, my sister wanted me because I would easily submit into giving her my toys, and she was too strong for me to answer back. I was known as the 'runt' in my family. There were stories passed on to other family members of how I was the 'useless' one (despite the fact I was the only one who got into grammar skool). Here's today's tale.

My Mom left the house, leaving the last dagger-filled words of "do your homework". Only, when she left I found I had no lined paper, which I needed. So I told my Dad I had no paper. He complained that I'm 'always losing it', even though my brother moves it, takes it, etc. Another thing I had to do was record Harry Hill - TV Burp (because we love that baldy :P ). So I turned on the TV as the dumb recorder was playing up, and my Dad's immediate reaction was to tell me to turn it off. I explained I had to record it, but he didn't give a... . So as soon as it came on he turned it off. I reminded him I still needed paper. He reminded me I had 'other homework to do'. That was history. I said I needn't bother doing it, because the teacher would only give me a crap mark, because she has favorites and she hates me. I am grabbed, and thrown to the other end of the room, smashing against the wall. He said I should do it, otherwise I'd get a crap mark. Again, I said there was no point, as I'd get a crap mark anyway. -stop- My Mom's reminded me how she's sick of me and wished I wasn't born. -stop- Anyway, so I was grabbed and pushed against the wall. He grabbed my hair, and yanked it as hard as he could. Unfortunately for him, he misjudged his force, and ended up making my head smash into his nose. Away he cursed, saying it was all my fault. Oh dear, he pulled my hair, so it was my hair's fault, OBVIOUSLY. I try to defend myself. No way oooooooout. So I tried to run upstairs, away from him. But he came back, blocking me. I was pushed into the *downstairs* bathroom, and pinned up against the wall. I won't continue with this, because you'll start to think I was writing a 'racy' book. But no, nothing 'bad' happened, and I managed to escape from his grasp but got whacked to oblivion in doing so.

I felt like stopping there, as I just get punched and kicked for the next 10 minutes. Whee-hee, family Scapegoat at your service. There was another time, where my brother, who does tae-kwon-do, pinned me against the wall and elbowed me as hard as he could into my stomach. I couldn't move properly for 2 weeks. Yet I was blamed for that, too. Oh dear, I got in the way of a move from a person who does martial arts and should know not to use his moves on people outside the gym. Punishment again. Let's not even go on the subject of my 13th birthday.

Oh but yeah, they must love me because they haven't killed me yet. *thinks* Hold on...