This is an honest write. I'm not going to make anything up or blow it out of proportion. I'm just going to give facts. Thought maybe I should tell you what has affected me in my life.

Most of my problems happened early in childhood and followed me to this day because they affected me in a way I wish it hadn't.

From the day I was born, my sister became my mother: She was eleven years older than me and even gave me my middle name. My parents, tired of raising children, allowed her to take care of almost everything about me.

So for about the first ten-twelve years of life, my parents were almost never a part of my life. I'd see them for dinner, or a movie, or trips, but that is really, truly, about it. I played softball at the age of six, and they got more involved then. But more on that later.

As a baby, my parents were around me more (although I don't remember much). When I would eat dinner, they would let me eat most of my food and then leave. Not my sister. She would make me sit there and eat every bite.
And if I tried to leave, she would hit me and call me names.
I'm not sure if that counts as beating, considering she didn't beat me up. But she hit me a lot. She wouldn't let me leave if I cried, threw up, or anything. There could be no veggies left and just the good part of dinner, and I HAD to eat it.

At least until a parent finally came out and said something and let me leave.
The good thing that came out of this is I am definitely not a picky child. and I'm a small eater. I just learned to never get more on my plate than I think I can eat, cause that way I never got hit when she saw me eating.

I usually slept in my sister's room. My sister has a unique problem in where she likes to pop my zits. Yes. Eww. But... I have a really weird skin problem on my upper arms and thighs where I have little zit-like bumps on my skin that aren't really zits, but they still pop, sort of.
And my sister would force me to lay down while she popped them.

Some with her teeth.
And if I tried to leave, she would slap me and MAKE me. And it hurt having her pinch your skin all over, making you bleed. If I cried, she'd hit me and say "I'm not hurting you at all, stop crying!"

I started fighting back around age eight, I guess. Which was a fucking stupid move. She just hit harder. Bruises. I had to blame them on softballs.

Of course, some of them WERE softballs.

She was a pitcher for softball, as was I. We used to practice together, me and my parents. The only family time I ever got.
But sometimes, my sister would join. And I would have to catch her pitches.
At age seven, an eighteen year old pitching to you is way too fast, considering she never threw it slower for me.
And it was terrifying, but she wouldn't care.

Sometimes she would get so mad that I was afraid that she wouldn't throw it straight, that she would throw it as hard as she could right at my knees.
I got hit a lot down there. It hurt. And when I'd cry and my parents would see, they'd ask "What happened?" and my sister would say "She missed it.".

What a liar.
In third grade I wrote a poem about it.
She found it, tore it up, and yelled at me;
"YOU CAN'T TELL YOUR TEACHERS THIS, I COULD GET ARRESTED!"

Indeed, sis.

I'd ask her for help on homework, and if I didn't get something, she would slap me and tell me I'm stupid. I'm stupid, stupid, stupid.
I hate that word.

My mom is similar, although she never amounted to hitting me. After my sister left, she would amount to screaming in my face, spitting on me, and calling me things like "worthless, stupid, disrespectful, etc"

To this day, anyone raising their voice automatically makes me break down into tears.

But all this wasn't a big deal. I didn't "Survive" mild abuse, I'm not "Strong" for doing it. It made me weaker, more stupid, more emotional. And I absolutely hate it.

My problem is I want love. And when you're lonely as fuck, and all you really have is your boyfriend, it sucks.

But I just work towards keeping that relationship together.

On this site, I'm not positive at all. I'm brutally, rediculously honest. In person, I believe I'm a little more polite. I try and do selfless things for everyone in the quest for more love.
And I'm still lonely.
It's crushing.

But I appreciate what I have more than anything. I love the people who love me more than anything in the whole world.

But onto the nice stuff of this journal.
Maybe I'm a little self-conscious. Maybe a lot. Maybe I'm not so emotionally stable.

But I don't need a therapist to help me get better. I can do it all on my own. And I have been. I don't cut myself anymore, I don't drink booze when I'm upset.

Last night, my old middle school had their Spaghetti Auction. It's like a dinner concert thing.
I went to help out, and was there from 3-10. It was really great. I love that place. I love the teachers at that place, too. Case in point, my old orchestra/band teacher. She was there.
And it was great.

At first, she hugged me :D and like, for YEARS, she wouldn't let me hug her XD Until I graduated. And then when she had me alone, she was like, asking me about how my home life was, and how I was emotionally.
And she made sure I wasn't lying O_O
She said your band teacher always knows what's up :P
Which, the fact that she took the time to ask me that (She's not really an emotional person, persay) makes me feel really great.
I love that teacher. The fact that she cares about me too is amazing.

And then she chased me into a corner and popped my balloon with her baton XD

At the end of the day when I had gotten another balloon, she popped it WITH HER BARE HAND.
AHH.
It was the scariest thing I have ever seen in my life XD

Anyways, back to the beginning of my journal... I don't let my abuse become me. It has affected me, but I'm trying to change that.

This was a really pointless journal and it's really bleh. But now you know my background and shit. Maybe I'm completely comfortable as being Bisexual, but I'm not comfortable with being myself.
I am stupid, I am worthless, and I am never going to amount to anything.

I fight it every day.