Hip Hip Hypocrite

I from time to time think that it is impossible to have a conversation with my parents considering a selection of topics; such as future plans, mental and physical health, different ways of thinking/perceiving the world, etc. This as my father either shoots down the idea, mocks you, or during the time of conversation becomes an incredible hypocrite. My mother, on the other hand, will either act the victim and/or side with my father as he has brainwashed her into believing that his opinion is their opinion, period.

Despite knowing this fact very well, I almost always seem to end up in one of these conversations every time I see them. Sometimes I try to get out of it but are forced to stay (unless I literally run away), or do not realize I’m in one until it is too late. Other times, I get very angry and passionate trying to explain my side, but forgetting that my opinion is equal to the status of rotting rubbish and therefore is simply wasting my breath.

Example scenario, I arrived only yesterday at my parents’ house for the Christmas holidays, and this evening after the dinner the following conversation happened after my brother left the table. Summary:

Dad: “What are your plans after uni now again? What is your dream goal?”

Me: “Well, right now I want to work as a museum intendent after I graduate next year, and my dream job is to become a writer and to solely be able to support myself on my royalties. However, even if I would succeed with that, I would still want to have another job as well.”

Dad: *changes tone to snarky* “Only about 30-40 people is able to do that in Sweden. Supporting yourself like that would be impossible. You will simply need to have another job.”

Mom mumbling agreeing comments.

Me: “Well isn’t it your job as my parent to be supportive of my dreams? I even said I want to have another job as well if I make it, and you did ask me for the dream goal.”

Dad: “How am I not supportive?”

Me: “You just said only 30-40 writers can support themselves and implied I will not be added to that number.”

Dad: *act over-dramatically surprised* “I have never said anything like that.”

Mom: “No, never.”

Me: “Well it sure haven’t sounded like that over the years.”

Dad: “What!? I have never been anything but supportive!”

Me: *short pause* “I have literal writing of you saying my dream is foolish.”

Here he looked once more over-dramatic and also dumbfounded as my mother began acting the victim and defending him. Therefore, I decided to leave, not being able to handle more mocking and hypocrisy for the night. The worst part for me, right now, is that conversations like these makes me want to go home to my apartment, which is in a town 4 hours away by train. I feel so defeated when this happen, I just spent quite some time and money to come here and they cannot even keep their shit for themselves. Now I am suppose to be here for a little over 2 weeks, and it is Christmas. I guess the Christmas spirit does not affect hypocrites.


Come a little closer?

I have been pushing this discussion of for way too long. The reason as to why is that I am not entirely sure I want to have it. How or when can you tell if your best friend isn’t your best friend anymore? I have been through this process before, but seeing every relationship is unique it is difficult to tell.

A little over a year ago, my best friend Mia moved from our home town to study at a university further south. This means that we now live much closer which the both of us were very pleased about. To a beginning things were looking up for the both of us, but this fantasy soon passed on my behalf. Seeing that Mia have for the time I’ve known her been better at making new acquaintances, she quickly made many new friends, who she has gotten very close to. For this I, of course, congratulated her as I wanted her to be happy, even if I could not physically be there all the time.

Now, to a beginning, as said, things were alright; which were for the first few months. However, since about the beginning of this year I have noticed quite a few things that are a bit alarming. To start with, I have seen her once. That’s right ONCE in ten months, because every time I have tried to find a weekend for us to meet, she is either ‘busy’ or doesn’t want to.

Secondly, we used to text or call almost every day, then she in waves stopped replying until I eventually just gave up. Now I just wait for her to text me asking if I want a “life update” every three weeks.

Thirdly, during these calls, which have grown shorter and shorter, she starts of with speaking about how great her life is. How much closer she has been getting to her friends, how many guys have flirted/made out with her, how she goes out, what seems like almost every weekend, drinking till she can’t see straight. At the same time as I am happy hearing about her progress in life, it hurts as she sounds from time to time boastful, almost mocking. Despite clearly being upset with her she doesn’t appear to notice and when she eventually remembers that I’m there and ask about my life, I just tell her I’m fine. She used to be able to see through my lies about how I feel without a second thought. Now she simply pushes the conversation forward, either being completely clueless or not caring.

Fourthly, we had been planning to spend Midsummer together in June with our mutual friend Kate, with who we went to secondary school together with. Then almost last minute she called it off, and I went with my family to see some family friends instead. She knew I was clearly upset about this, but at the time I thought I’d make the best of the situation and had a great time with the people there. Then it happened, late that night I decided to scroll through Instagram and found a particular picture that caught my attention. It was a picture of Mia and Kate. This picture destroyed me, and to this day I have not been able to bring it up. It hurts even more when she tells me about their weekends together when she never makes any time to see me.

Lastly, it feels in general like she does not want me around anymore, or at least she does not realize that she gives that impression. I haven’t been wanting to have this conversation as I am afraid to lose her. She is my best friend, my only close friend… Without her I have no one, and that scares me just as much. Then also, it is because I care about her that I am willing to leave if she does not want me no more. The thing that hurts the most, though, is that this has happened to me before. I have lost three best friends to this same process and she knows it. Yet, she is doing the same thing. Being replaced and having it rubbed in your face when you are already balancing on your breaking point is painful. But then again, I am not new to the concept. I am not even sure if this topic of conversation could accomplish anything. I miss my best friend, I will always cherish her, even if I never see her again.

Sonnet 4

All that I view feels like an illusion.

None of it seems to come near.

Has it become all that I fear?

Is there anyone who can feel my confusion?

Is this maybe just a delusion.

Everything vanish that I hold dear.

Will my vision ever become clear?

Will these thoughts ever come to a conclusion?

What if the soul could be released.

Escape from the body in which it stayed.

Eventually it will become nothing more than a shade.

It will know that the mind is deceased.

How come it is so difficult to feel?

Maybe it is not even real.

The Boy On The Train

I remember it clearly, as if the moment was still here. Sat opposite, writing frenetically in a notepad. Every now and then raising his eyes, those breathtaking eyes, shyly. An insecure smile spreading on the soft lips, before continuing his art. A desire to ask him, question him, what about me was so interesting it could be put into writing, rose. Though just like him, I was sat there watching, writing frenetically in a notepad.


The Boy On The Train

Supportive Much?

In short, neither of my parents have ever shown much suport or encouragement in my interests or visions. I have been forced to have certain hobbies and give up others. Since I moved out two years ago this have of course been different. Except the one big thing; the reason I moved. I moved 400 km to attend university where I study Literature and Academic writing. Since the age of thirteen I have wanted to be a writer and I am much interested in languages, so for me this was the obvious choice. I was over the moon seeing the programme is also in English, which I honestly prefer speaking rather than Swedish.

Now, my father is still against me being of a creative mind; he have always wanted me to be a surgeon. ‘Creativity is a waste of time’ according to him. So, me studying literature is basically the most stupid thing on earth. The only reason I am allowed to stay is because I am good at it. Personally, it feels like it is the only thing I am good at. For example, I recently was employed as a freelance translator which I am very much qualified to be; I have a CAE-degree and have studied languages for five years. This my dad thinks is the biggest lie I have been told yet. He says that they will never actually give me any job opportunities and that I am a failure. It has only been three weeks and I am in the running to get my first assignment. Thanks for the support.

Some of the things I have been told over the years:

• “You will never get a job.”

• “You’re too dumb to ever make anything of yourself.”

• “Why would you study that, it’s useless.”

• me: “So, you’re telling me to work at a job I detest for the rest of my life, instead of doing something I enjoy and am actually good at doing?” dad: “Yes, obviously.”

• me: “I refuse to be a surgeon.” dad: “Okay, so you don’t have to be a bone surgeon. You shall be a brain surgeon.”

• me: “Why can you never be supportive when it comes to me?” dad: “I’m being realistic, unlike you.”

• “Why even bother, it’s not like you would be able to make anything of yourself.”

Hide Away

Lately, I have had an urge to tell my brother about everything. Or at least about me being a depressive, my suicidal parts I have never wanted to share and probably never will. For some time now I have been swaying to and fro whether I should or not, mainly keeping my own feelings’ protection at interest. This summer I fucked up by being stupid and he saw my arms which are filled with scars. Over the Christmas break I am staying at my parents’ house meaning I have been spending a lot more time with him making me constantly think about it.

But tonight after having an argument with my father where he proclaimed that I am “A fat bitch and always will be!” I in my rage told my brother that if he ever wonders he can ask me but not now because I was too angry. He first said that it was very random and that if I want to tell him he will listen. I hesitated before saying that I wanted to tell but wasn’t quiet sure how. Rather insensitively he replied that it shouldn’t be that hard. It is an incredibly sensitive and taboo subject, of course it is difficult to talk about! Well, shortly I explained that I have been aware that I am depressed since I was 11 and that it has brought along a lot of difficulties such as a self harm behaviour. My body do not naturally produce all those ‘happy hormones’ meaning I have to eat a high dosage of medicine. This far he was rather quiet, until I brought up our father. I said little of what he has done towards me, partly because he does not need to know and partly because I do not want him to. I simply said that he has throughout the years said things that was not good and that it has affected me. Here he interrupted me and to not go into too much details he said that I had basically brought it on myself. As this inconsiderate comment hurt me I blurted out that he punched me as a child and my brother replied: “Then your memory must be deranged.”

If the tears weren’t already pushing by my eyelids before they sure were now. I immediately knew that telling him had been a mistake. He did not understand like I had hoped. And he probably never will. I started walking towards my room mumbling that I did not want to talk anymore. Once I reached my door I turned and asked him not to tell our parents. Angrily he said he would not. But now I am sat here alone and he followed with them to take a walk. Initiated by them but still. I do not trust his promise. The only person in my family I trusted have now lost it as well. Never again will I feel even the slightest piece of safety in this house. All I want to do right now is die or cry until I fall asleep and never wake up. Please hide me away forever.

What comes around, goes around

I’m not really sure what to say, for I am not really sure how I feel. About a month ago I was introduced once again to a new doctor who after our meeting put me on new kinds of medicine. New pills for my sleep and anxiety (relaxes me at night helping my insomnia but does little for the anxiety) and also new antidepressants. Last year I were given two different kinds which had no effect what so ever so this doctor wanted to try something else. Due to that I earlier have been nonrespondent he also asked if I wanted to take blood samples to see if we could find a reason why, to which I of course said yes. Because of my mentality I have found it tough keeping up with everything at uni. However during the last few days I have handed in 4 assignments. The weirdest thing about it was that I did not even complain about it being difficult. For the first time since I began university I felt inspired, I was enjoying writing it. Part of me wondered if it was the pills finally kicking in making me energized. But then why did I still feel so sad? I have started reading excessively only feeling calm finding my escape in other worlds. Though this also affects my perception of time. One hour and two days seeming at times to pass in the same speed without me noticing a difference. I want to cry but seem to find no tears.