Hate thread
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Akiryo wrote...
I hate the fact that you hate yourself.
I hate the fact that you hate the fact that I hate myself.
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JustGiveMeLove wrote...
Akiryo wrote...
I hate the fact that you hate yourself.
I hate the fact that you hate the fact that I hate myself.
I still hate the fact that you hate yourself.
Also I hate Brussel sprouts.
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I hate pedophiles. All of my problems started because of one.
When I was 9, the pastor at the local church raped me, and in high school no one took me seriously because of that. Well, except one person, my best friend. But, most of the school bullied me, even during senior year, and the teachers wouldn't even help me out, instead, I got punished for being disruptive a lot, when I was just reacting to the pranks pulled on me.
I got beat up almost every school day, and had my possessions stolen from me by the athletic kids in school. Even the girls bullied me, one time they asked me to come to the cafeteria with them, only to throw a bucket of mop water in my face. I walked home that day, too embarrassed to get on the bus home.
My parents didn't help either, since my mother worked 7 days a week between a full time and a part time job, and my father was a useless alcoholic that spent most nights drinking at bars and coming home wasted, only to lash out on mom, my brother and I. He often beat us with his belt, and one time he beat me with a beer bottle until I ended up in the hospital. Thankfully, that got him into jail for child abuse, but after 3 years, he got out, and started abusing us again, but being sneakier and being sure not to bruise us too bad.
He always told me it's my fault the priest raped me, because I'm a pussy-little pansy ass. He continued to beat me, my brother, and my mother, until one day, when I was 17, I took a kitchen knife and cut him with it while he was beating my mother. My mother and he got a divorce shortly after that, and she took full custody of my brother and I.
I thought I had finally escaped him, but as soon as I turned 18, for my birthday, he showed up and picked a fight with me, pushing all of my anger buttons. I eventually lost it and beat the shit out of my father, for the first time in my life. It seemed easy. But only because he let me do it. He called the cops, I was arrested and taken to prison, for 1 1/2 years I lived in concrete walls, with a violent inmate that was stronger and bigger than me, and beat the shit out of me if I pissed him off in the slightest.
I was only supposed to serve a year, but one time my inmate beat me up, I tried to defend myself, and I gouged his eye with my fingers. I didn't permanently injure him, but it was enough to get my sentence extended, through which I endured violence of not only my friendly roommate, but other inmates as well. Because I tried getting help from the guards, I was an enemy of the inmates.
When I finally got out of prison, I had no money, and my mother refused to take me in, so I had to crash at a friend's place for a few months until I finally got a job. After that, I started renting rooms out of people's homes/apartments, which is what I've been doing until now.
If my entire youth and a good chunk of my adult life so far hadn't been absolute hell, I might not have all this hatred inside me now. But, it's just one bad thing after another since that piece of shit pastor raped me. I wondered if the world hates me, and just wants me to suffer. But, after leaving everything and everyone I knew behind, hiding from my past, my problems didn't follow me. 3 years later, I'm here, still renting rooms, moving to a different place every 6 months or so, in order to not be found by people I know.
I wonder if I'll ever get peace of mine, but I really doubt it.
When I was 9, the pastor at the local church raped me, and in high school no one took me seriously because of that. Well, except one person, my best friend. But, most of the school bullied me, even during senior year, and the teachers wouldn't even help me out, instead, I got punished for being disruptive a lot, when I was just reacting to the pranks pulled on me.
I got beat up almost every school day, and had my possessions stolen from me by the athletic kids in school. Even the girls bullied me, one time they asked me to come to the cafeteria with them, only to throw a bucket of mop water in my face. I walked home that day, too embarrassed to get on the bus home.
My parents didn't help either, since my mother worked 7 days a week between a full time and a part time job, and my father was a useless alcoholic that spent most nights drinking at bars and coming home wasted, only to lash out on mom, my brother and I. He often beat us with his belt, and one time he beat me with a beer bottle until I ended up in the hospital. Thankfully, that got him into jail for child abuse, but after 3 years, he got out, and started abusing us again, but being sneakier and being sure not to bruise us too bad.
He always told me it's my fault the priest raped me, because I'm a pussy-little pansy ass. He continued to beat me, my brother, and my mother, until one day, when I was 17, I took a kitchen knife and cut him with it while he was beating my mother. My mother and he got a divorce shortly after that, and she took full custody of my brother and I.
I thought I had finally escaped him, but as soon as I turned 18, for my birthday, he showed up and picked a fight with me, pushing all of my anger buttons. I eventually lost it and beat the shit out of my father, for the first time in my life. It seemed easy. But only because he let me do it. He called the cops, I was arrested and taken to prison, for 1 1/2 years I lived in concrete walls, with a violent inmate that was stronger and bigger than me, and beat the shit out of me if I pissed him off in the slightest.
I was only supposed to serve a year, but one time my inmate beat me up, I tried to defend myself, and I gouged his eye with my fingers. I didn't permanently injure him, but it was enough to get my sentence extended, through which I endured violence of not only my friendly roommate, but other inmates as well. Because I tried getting help from the guards, I was an enemy of the inmates.
When I finally got out of prison, I had no money, and my mother refused to take me in, so I had to crash at a friend's place for a few months until I finally got a job. After that, I started renting rooms out of people's homes/apartments, which is what I've been doing until now.
If my entire youth and a good chunk of my adult life so far hadn't been absolute hell, I might not have all this hatred inside me now. But, it's just one bad thing after another since that piece of shit pastor raped me. I wondered if the world hates me, and just wants me to suffer. But, after leaving everything and everyone I knew behind, hiding from my past, my problems didn't follow me. 3 years later, I'm here, still renting rooms, moving to a different place every 6 months or so, in order to not be found by people I know.
I wonder if I'll ever get peace of mine, but I really doubt it.