Griveing

Below is an entry from the beginning of this year. I don't feel the need to put pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, to express how I feel because... well... this is it. Nothing's changed.

January 11, 2026

A year ago, I felt so different. I hated my heart. I hated my mind. I hated my body. I hated who I was. Now, I hate myself a little less, but is it due to the passage of time, the ability to thrive, hope for the future, or having him in my life again? I’m sad and confused. I feel lonely. Lonely because nobody understands what it’s like. No one in my life, anyway. There’s no one I can turn to except for him, yet even he has little knowledge of the pain I’m going through. Each day, our future draws closer, but my childhood slips farther away. My parents. My family. My last name. I used to love my last name. I used to love my dad, my mom, my family. I still do. They tried to protect me, but they didn’t. Should they get an A for effort? I don’t think that’s how life works. You tried to be a good mother, but you screwed up. I know she’ll feel alone for the rest of her life when I’m gone, and once that would’ve made me happy, but now? Now, I feel sorry. I’m sad that you weren’t the mother I needed, and I’m sorry this has to happen as a repercussion. Punishing you doesn’t feel as good as I thought it would. And, dad? I’m especially sad for you. Your darling daughter, the one you tried to love, the one you neglected to protect, she’ll be gone. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not being a good daughter. I’m sorry for being the worst mistake of your lives. You tried. And you failed. Do I even know what I’m doing? I made this whole plan to escape, to truly be set free, and yet... It’s hard to let go. I know this feeling too well. Somehow it’s refreshing, because it’s familiar. But in these moments, I’m empty. All that’s left behind are the good parts. Where mom would cook meals and cater to me, and dad and I would ride our bikes and rollerblades around the city. Not when they were yelling or grabbing or barricading the door to keep me inside. Not when they sent me away. I grieve for them because I’m empathetic to the feeling of being abandoned, and I sympathize with the loss of their only child. They put in so much time, love, effort, and money into me, and I’m just disappearing. Maybe one day they’ll understand why. Not because I was “brainwashed”. But because I can’t continue walking on eggshells, keeping secrets, and being careful not to step out of line, even as a supposed adult. Anyway, I’m still sorry. I love you both. But I choose to live on my own terms instead of in the gilded cage you’ve prepared.