It’s all I have.

     I think it’s time that I accept…that I am alone. At the end, we are all alone. Friendships, relationships, marriages…are all fun. But in the end, it comes down to us. The only person that matters is me. I need to care about myself more. I do care, but all I have ever created for myself is pain. If I care about other people less, maybe I can be happy?

     Boys move on, it doesn’t matter if you are or were the only person that mattered. In the end, they don’t care, and they move on. I think it is like that for everyone. I don’t mean anything anymore to him. It doesn’t matter if you are number one…it doesn’t ever mean that you always will be. It doesn’t matter if they really believe that. One day, they can forget. One day, they will stop caring. It doesn’t matter that my mom cared about me once when I was a little kid, I don’t mean anything anymore, I mean nothing to her. People move on. The only reason my biological mother cares is because she gave birth to me. It’s a natural instinct. She doesn’t know me, she knows NOTHING about me. I don’t care to have a relationship with her. At all.
     I want my mom to care…but she never will. If she does at all, which I know she does to a degree, it’s because she knew me my whole life. It’s not because she knows who I am, or understands anything about me.
    It doens’t matter that my brother (age eight) and I have a crazy connection…or did. He has been brainwashed by my mother and won’t even speak to me. My sister is too caught up in her own 15 year old world to care about anyone. At all.
    My dad is convinced that I don’t care for anyone but myself. Maybe he’s like that or something, but he doens’t think that I might be different. Maybe he’s right, maybe that is all I care about or something. But he sees me SO differently then how I see myself. So what is right, his opinion, or mine?
     Nanny is probably one of the most caring people I know. My whole life I thought I was just like her. Until the last year, I realized that I’m not. I am in a lot of ways, but I’m very different in probably just as many. I like being around people. I think when I was a kid I didn’t because I was always teased, made fun of, and there were a lot of kids that purposely tried to scare me because I was scared so easily. I think I wanted more physical contact from my mom than I got. I remember how much it meant to me when she would walk by and mess up my hair, or just put her hand on my head or something. Maybe I just didn’t know how to look for it, and my mom took that as that I didn’t want any attention or coddling.
     I think Nanny puts me in this box that she thinks I fit into perfectly. But I don’t know if she knows me. I think that I am social like my other grandparents, but not quite to that degree. I don’t really fit in anywhere in my biological family. But I don’t with my adoptive one either. Actually, I’m so used to being the one that’s different, I didn’t like fitting in. i feel like being different has become my identity. I liked that I was always the one that animals are drawn to. Animals don’t seem to like people in my biological family as much as they like me, but with my adoptive family, they like everyone! I really didn’t like that…it made me feel weird, and out of place…I wasn’t me! Is that not the most ridiculous thing you have ever heard?

     If I ever find another relationship, I think I’m going to have even more trust issues than I did before. It is SO hard for me to believe that someone wants to be with me and enjoys my company.

ok, done my rant…and feeling sorry for myself. I’ve had my little cry now, and Gill is sitting next to me, so time to finish!