Happy childhood memories are vague, I can’t actually recall many of them, there was more badness than good. It’s a sad reality that I had an awful childhood and all the joy children should have was never there for me, even on my birthday and Christmas. It was the same shitty story of pain, grief and anger from them.
Day to day was uncertainty, even at school I would dread the bullies, I was easy pickings. Timid, frigid and stuck out like a sore thumb with my skinny frame, shoes that needed replacing as well as skirts down to me knees and tie wore long where’s the other girls would wear trendy school trousers and a tie that was done a fashionably way. They would discuss nails and makeup yet I didn’t have a clue.
I would try and take my time to walk home, I use to get horrific stomach pains which I assume was anxiety aggravated irritable bowel syndrome because I was scared. Of course I would often get jumped by the school bullies and beaten to a pulp for no reason. Did my mother care, did she hell. She most likely assumed it was my own fault, like being a living, breathing person was also my own fault.
At 32 years old I don’t like vague, I like to be certain of everything. I like to know where I’m going, I have to know everything because it makes me feel comfortable otherwise I become anxious about it. I like to have my life planned out everyday and I can’t bare being late for anything I have to be early or dead on time otherwise I feel angry about it, it’s a very strange emotion. My days have to be filled to the brim, I have to be busy and on the go. I can’t stand disappointment either. I know most people would get over some sort of disappointment but it takes me a while. My childhood was one massive huge disappointment so I avoid it in adult life. My childhood was vague and I was robbed of being a child. I won’t be able to forgive those who suppose to care for me for the pain they caused. They don’t deserve it.