N
noodlelover
Self-banned
-
- Joined
- May 4, 2023
- Posts
- 398
I'm not sure if any one will read all this. I'm just venting.
I haven't spoken to my family in over ten years. From time to time my mother emails me. I'll email her back then she'll ghost the conversation only for her to email me again a couple weeks later, talking about the weather or some small talk.
Anyways, she emailed me a video of my younger brother (10 years younger) and his fiance. He was always better looking than me, but now he's Chad and not as shy and awkward with his beautiful soon to be wife. They both look like nice people, with no negative vibes to them.
That's only possible when you live the life of a Chad, or any woman for that matter. My father treated him like a person but treated me like a literal and figurative punching bag. He'd go into a violent rage and scream at me, slap me as hard as he could, throw me around, push me into the floor as hard as he could at any moment and he was a strong guy. I'd get bruises, and when he'd pick me up and throw me around he'd be literally shaking with rage. It always felt like he was barely able to stop himself from killing me. I rarely spoke because I knew anything could set him off.
But only to me. In elementary school I was bullied and excluded so I never developed the same social skills as everyone else. Later in life I was kidnapped and threatened by gang members and treated like a child by almost everyone.
My crime: looking like someone you don't take seriously. Now, as I approach age fourty, my face still looks 15 on a good day, and 45 on a bad day. But never a normal age that would allow me to make friends, given my poor or average social skills.
Now I've gained as much muscle as I can, tatted up, living in near complete social isolation. I don't like feeling sorry for myself. It makes me feel like I'm labeling myself a victim to explain away my repeated failures in life. But there's these life tracks, success begets more success.
I'll never stop fighting for a better life, until the end because it's who I am. I'm relentless. But returning to dirt will be the end of my suffering. Many of us are dirt brought to life only to experience great suffering and then return.
I haven't spoken to my family in over ten years. From time to time my mother emails me. I'll email her back then she'll ghost the conversation only for her to email me again a couple weeks later, talking about the weather or some small talk.
Anyways, she emailed me a video of my younger brother (10 years younger) and his fiance. He was always better looking than me, but now he's Chad and not as shy and awkward with his beautiful soon to be wife. They both look like nice people, with no negative vibes to them.
That's only possible when you live the life of a Chad, or any woman for that matter. My father treated him like a person but treated me like a literal and figurative punching bag. He'd go into a violent rage and scream at me, slap me as hard as he could, throw me around, push me into the floor as hard as he could at any moment and he was a strong guy. I'd get bruises, and when he'd pick me up and throw me around he'd be literally shaking with rage. It always felt like he was barely able to stop himself from killing me. I rarely spoke because I knew anything could set him off.
But only to me. In elementary school I was bullied and excluded so I never developed the same social skills as everyone else. Later in life I was kidnapped and threatened by gang members and treated like a child by almost everyone.
My crime: looking like someone you don't take seriously. Now, as I approach age fourty, my face still looks 15 on a good day, and 45 on a bad day. But never a normal age that would allow me to make friends, given my poor or average social skills.
Now I've gained as much muscle as I can, tatted up, living in near complete social isolation. I don't like feeling sorry for myself. It makes me feel like I'm labeling myself a victim to explain away my repeated failures in life. But there's these life tracks, success begets more success.
I'll never stop fighting for a better life, until the end because it's who I am. I'm relentless. But returning to dirt will be the end of my suffering. Many of us are dirt brought to life only to experience great suffering and then return.
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