I'd laugh if I could ~ tw: sh

I don't care if nobody reads this. I'm only writing this for myself. I just need to get some things off my chest that have been weighing me down.

This is the story of my life.

I learned a year or so ago that I was a surrogate child (with the surrogate mother's DNA), which my parents, who, I must admit, are quite old, never bothered to mention. I don't know how I feel about it. But it sort of hurts that they never told me, especially considering my actual mother is a family friend I have known since I was a child.

Ever since I was a toddler, probably only four years old, my father and mother tried to teach me advanced topics. I was their prodigy project. And, hell, it worked. Yet I've always had a sort of disassociation issue. My mind would drift away after a while. Not daydreaming - still there. Just not focused, sort of blurry. I can't control it. But I remember it like yesterday. The screaming, frustration and anger caused by it. My father always made sure that he was in total authority. The "man of the house" who controlled all. My mind matured far faster than myself. 

This went on through kindergarten. Every time I'd be on my way to school, I'd throw up. I blame the anxiety brought by my own thoughts. Then, they dropped me out of school after a year. Homeschooling was the ultimate goal for their little project. And so I was homeschooled. Friends? Who needs those?

No. I wanted friends and happiness away from my father's anger. Isn't that what all children wanted? So I asked for a dog. He'd always say no. Until, one night, I heard the golden word. Yes. We got a beagle. I was overjoyed. Little did I know that just a year later, my father would send me to a different country with my mother to learn a language abroad. That left him and the dog at home. He threw the poor thing out and paid people to take her away.

After that, I was upset and lonely as shit. I developed a tendency of sneaking my parents' phones, tablets, whatever the hell there was into my bedroom at night. That was forbidden. I'd use them, looking at all sorts of stuff. YouTube, talking to people online just to fill an empty void of loneliness, all that. They found out, and, oh, they were mad. You have no idea. And, as soon as they found out I was doing all of this and took away the phone, I'd reach for another thing. The tablet. Then the computer. It was never-ending. 

Is loneliness an excuse for all of this? 

This went on for a long, long time. My father only got worse, and so did I. Things weren't fun at home. Being homeschooled, you have nobody to talk to. And my parents aren't the "cool and young" type that understand all of this. No, no, far from that. My father always had a strong, old-fashioned idea of what everyone should be like. "Girls should wear dresses and put on makeup. Wear red. Red looks better. No t-shirts. No shorts. Look proper." God. It drove me insane. 

There was criticism every day. Online was my sliver of freedom. The one thing that distanced me from the screaming, the fighting, the... reality. I was their prodigy child. Taking Advanced Placement tests meant for high-schoolers at 10 years old, taking the SAT at 13... it never stopped. There was one point when they found out that I'd been talking to someone I met through Genshin Impact. He was nice, funny, everything sweet. I, of course, lied about my age. I was 12 at the time. We got... frisky, to say the least. My mind was well beyond my years. They found out, and that was the first time I saw my father's true colors.

I'd never seen him scream like that before. Throwing dishes, yelling at my mother, hollering about wanting a divorce because of me. God. I felt like shit. I caused this. This was my fault. My parents might divorce because of me. I developed a habit of... well, cutting. You know how it is. Not just that, but drinking. Drinking when I wasn't even a teenager yet. Looking back, now, it makes me feel pathetic.

I met someone. He and I were close. He made me happy. And he asked me out. I accepted. He helped me so much. That boy was probably the one reason why I didn't get worse. Well, that's until I got caught in that relationship. You know what happened.

That was when I tried to end it for the first time. Things got so bad. It didn't work - obviously. I started resorting to using Tylenol as emotional dullers for a while. It worked for a bit, just taking one when I really needed it. But it was unhealthy as fuck. And that guy dumped me, which was the cherry on top.

After a while, things got a bit better. I was happy. Things were getting better. I started college - and, yes, college at 13. I was their prodigy project, and it was successful. I didn't really have a feeling of pride over it. It was more just... "I'm here to do this, and I'm here to get it done. Skip the crap." 

I'm still in college to this day. I want to be a neurosurgeon, which, of course, follows my father's dreams. He's still threatening to divorce my mother, all because of me. Some things never change, and this is one of them. 

Sometimes I wonder if he ever wanted a child. 

This is only a brief light touch of what my life really was. It's a lot worse than it sounds. A lot more happened - no, a ton more. But I just don't have the energy to dump it all over here.

Am I absorbed in self-pity, or do I have a right to feel like this? I don't know. 

Sleepless nights, caffeine addictions, studying for fifteen hours at a time without taking breaks... they aren't just habits. They're me.

I might not be perfect. I'm far from it. My heart hurts. I feel worn out. 

But maybe this will get better.

Just maybe.