The dream is Dead

Always The Stepping Stone, Never The Goal

My entire life I have been used as a doormat of some type. People see what I want or what they can use me for, they take it, and then they drop me like a bag of trash once they have what they want. Maybe it was my problem, in part, for being so trusting, loyal, and nice. However, as I’ve grown older I have come to realize humans are inherently selfish and evil. It’s the only types of relationships and friendships that I have ever known. Starting with my own family.

As I’ve previously mentioned, I was the black sheep. I was the burden. I was the unwanted child even though I was adopted so you’d think I would have been wanted. No. Only as a pawn. If that. My parents, from day one, were unconcerned with how I felt or what I needed if it badly impacted them. They were told I had reactive attachment disorder and did literally nothing about it because if I had such a thing then that meant they were bad parents so it wasn’t possible. No need to look into that, get it treated, or even learn about how it can affect someone as an adult if it’s not properly addressed.

They then, for no reason at all, decided when I was 10 years old I was severely bipolar and had ADHD. Though I was sent to multiple specialists multiple times for testing and all the testing said they were wrong. It didn’t matter. When a doctor refused to treat me any longer they just went to another doctor that would. Then another. Then another. A weird form of Munchausen where they desperately wanted to have a mentally ill and troubled child but since they didn’t have one they had to invent one. I was that invention.

Why would they do this, you probably ask. Well, why do any parents do anything like this to their child? Attention. Pity. Praise. All of the above. My father, who was and always has been a local celebrity wanted the benefits not only of adopting a child but additionally the child was mentally ill but he could always say he loved me anyway. He loved me so much even though I was disturbed, defective, difficult…all of the things they groomed me into being. Naturally, I was not this fucked up kid they wanted so they made it happen. They made it happen so they could have the community look upon them as saviors. How great they were to care for such a troubled child that wasn’t even their own! They must be saints!

My father’s love (if it can even be called that) was and always has been conditional. Same with my mother’s. All of it was heavily dependent on fitting the exact perfect mold they needed me to fit into. I had to look the right way. I had to act the right way. I couldn’t say no, I couldn’t make choices. I wasn’t even allowed to decide the length of my own hair. I can’t tell you how many times my mother forced me, in tears, to get my hair cut super short because she hated long hair. Only on me, though, my sisters (who were her biological children) could have hair as long or as short as they wanted. I was the exception to the rule because I was the scapegoat. The puppet. The problem. The thing they needed in their life to blame all of their problems on and in return get accolades from all of their friends about how gracious they treated me even though I was a “little terror”.

You’d have thought getting away from this situation as an adult, I’d have been better. However, I was not. I immediately found myself in a relationship with an abusive clinical psychopath. She stole my identity, she skipped out on rent, and she got me sued. She flat out told me she only ever pretended to love me to get what I had because she wanted it. She even attempted to steal my cat from me (which was unsuccessful) though she did steal all the socks when she ran off from the apartment.

This left me with no choice to move in with someone I thought was a friend. At first, it was fine, but soon it became clear enough that he only was my friend because he believed that if he was nice enough to me for long enough then I’d eventually fall in love with him and he could have sex with me. Over the years which I was forced to live with him, as I had no choice financially, the abuse, sexually advances, and harassment only became worse. When he recently found out I was trying to date again (despite no longer living with him) he finally admitted he was only ever interested in me because he wanted to date me. Not because he wanted to be my friend. Keep in mind, I had never, not once, given him any indication I was into him romantically. In fact, on several occasions I flat out reminded him we were not in a relationship and I was never going to be his girlfriend. Yet, he still kept being nice to me on the basis of the idea that he would eventually get sex out of it.

In my life, no matter who it has been, a friend, a family member, or even a boss…I’ve never been treated as a valuable person. I’ve been treated as someone who has something that can be taken. A thing that can be used up and thrown away. An object that has one useful quality and once it is obtained I am no longer useful. I am talking every last one of my friendships or relationships has been this way. Not one, not a few, all of them. Surely I’m at least part of the problem because I’m dumb enough to allow this to happen. I also know that people will claim that it must be my fault because if every relationship is bad then it’s not them it has to be me. Well, maybe consider that there are just some people in this world with shitty luck and there are even more shitty people willing to take advantage of that.

As of now I have no friends, by choice. I’d like to have a romantic partner but fuck if that’s going to happen with my trust issues, my lack of career, or the fact that I’m living in absolute poverty. My standards are too high and I’m too ugly for the types of people I’m attracted to. At the end of the day, I’ve only ever been the means to an end. I am not the end. I am not the prize. I am nothing. Nearly half of my life is over and I have absolutely nothing to show for it other than 9 published books no one gives a shit about reading in the first place. My worst fear is dying absolutely alone in obscurity and every single day I can’t avoid knowing that it’s also my reality.

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