At times I sit & contemplate if others really know how I feel. Like truly know, I hide most of my emotions. Or know that when I smile I hide so damn much at times I can explode with pure madness. I have gotten so used to be hidden away, from my family even, self isolation. I go into a rage fit, full fledged rage. Mostly ignited from some poor excuse for a man. (My daughter, she is loser attracter.) Yes, I realize it's not even a word. But the abuse she has endured at 20, is more than me, in 42 damn years. That causes me rage fits. I am bipolar, and was just diagnosed about 6 months ago. Which explains why my blood would literally boil at times. I wanted her, well both of my daughters, the happiness I never had.
No depression, no self discrimination, no self body shaming and no cutting. That all went straight to Hell. Maybe my mother was on to something when she said maybe I should not have had kids. That's always in the back of my mind as well. But it's not like I had the most perfect of childhoods. That's easier to be forgotten like it never was. Maybe I should have been aborted. Instead used as a pawn, to Dad. Guess what? Don't dare talk about that. That was never the case Jessie. Of course it wasn't, I have such a wide imagination, no one can ever tell with me. And I am crazy as well. No one can ever own up to anything, and be real about it. I mean me, I know I have not been so perfect as to walk on water. If only we all could do so. Eh, well, you know shit happens.