I don't even know what I need. No that's a lie. I mostly need someone to help me feel less isolated. I spend most of my time just watching my phone, hoping someone will contact me or at least text me back.

I also wish I could have someone just tell me what really happened to me. I don't mean that like I question that what I remember happened. I know it did and that's never been the problem. I still have trouble defining it as abuse or just normal punishment. No one I've ever talked to about it has ever had a problem classifying it as abuse. To them, it's easy. But for some stupid reason, I can't accept that and I just feel like I'm probably lying or exaggerating what I remember for sympathy even though I know that's not the case. That is what my mom tells me I do. That's not reality and I know that, but I still don't accept that 100% of the time. And when I don't accept it and I start questioning what they did really was, I start making excuses for her and I see her as this mother who tried really hard and just didn't know how to properly handle a kid with severe ADHD. But other times, I find myself wanting to completely sabotage my mother and hating her on every single level imaginable with this unquenchable firey rage. I can logically understand that my emotions towards her and the fact that she was an overwhelmed mom don't have to be mutually exclusive but at the same time, I feel like I constantly need to validate myself for the pain I go through. The part of me that empathizes with her makes me feel like I have no right to feel the way I do about her. It's so confusing that sometimes, I wish she were a horrible, conniving **** to me all of the time so I don't have to play these stupid games. Or I'll wish that she just pushed me down the stairs or did something, anything that would have left serious enough marks that maybe someone could have noticed and saved me. Then, maybe I'd feel like I'd be justified in being the crazy person I am.

Why can't she be as easy as my dad to figure out? My dad doesn't like me, doesn't want me, never did, never will, and he behaves in accordance to that. I don't have to be afraid of him because I know he's not going to come home one day from work and love me and then the next day blame me for the failing economy while screaming at me. He didn't care about me yesterday, he doesn't care about me today, and he won't care about me tomorrow.

I'm sorry.