Today, or well yesterday and today because I am well versed in dysfunctionality, has been interesting.
I tried to stand up for myself.
In my life, that’s a rare occurrence.
I panicked over it, thought about it constantly, but I did it and once again, I’m faced with the repercussions.
In a way, I regret it but I don’t at the same time. It was either that or lie, pretend and make up an entire scenario and…Who even has the time? Who has the time?
I decided to just take the torrent of abuse that I knew would come my way.
Verbal abuse is one thing. I’m used to that, both the outright abuse and sly digs. Maybe people feel like they need to put me down or knock me down a peg or two, but really, they should preserve their energy. No one can ever say anything that I haven’t said myself. You can’t bring down a pile of rubble when it’s already on the ground.
So I can deal with verbal abuse, even physical* if it came to that. What gets me is constant harassment. If I could have a normal conversation with this person, it would go like this:
Can you leave me the fuck alone please. If I’m this and and I’m that, why are you fucking bothering me? If I don’t meet your standards, oh fucking well, go and find someone that does. I’m not a child. Oh and repeating yourself doesn’t make me want to listen to you more, it makes me want to punch you in the face.
You ask questions and demand an answer, but what’s the point when you already have your answer. You say it’s up to me when really, it isn’t. This is just so that you can blame when it inevitably goes wrong.
I’m not sure who the fuck you think you are, or why you think that you have any authority to talk to me about anything. All respect I have for you is gone. You should be fucking ashamed of yourself for being so petty, twisted and small minded that you seek to belittle everyone around you just to make yourself feel better.
You disgust me. I used to hate you, before I realised that it was a waste of energy. People like you don’t deserve hate. You deserve nothing. One of these days, I’m going to get tired of pretending that the sight of your face doesn’t make me feel sick.
Something tells me that you still won’t get it.
*Don’t worry, I’m fine and I wouldn’t put up with that kind of thing. I mean it in more of cultural sense. It’s hard to explain.