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Late update. I’m sorry.

The truth is, i'm very overworked. With college. And everything. I hate myself. I feel like shit. I’m tired. I feel gross inside. Its not all that different from how i normally feel so whatever man

The holiday went okay. I got yelled at a tiny bit. I didnt get groped as much as last holiday. It was hot. I avoided my scars being seen.

I know i said i’d make a full runthrough of it all. I didn’t. I realized the reason i wanted to is because i have an intense obsession with documenting everything. I need to document all my abuse, I need proof. And for the longest time I never knew who i was trying to actually prove it to. In hindsight its obvious, it was me.

My obsession with telling people about myself. This blog. My animations. It makes sense. I need people to know everything and tell me it was real. Tell me it was bad. Because for that split second when they say it was bad, I can actually believe it. And maybe if I begin to believe it was real, i’ll feel like a person again. A real human being who has real memories and experiences instead of a hollow shell working on instinct.

Part of me is happy at this to be honest. I know what’s wrong now. Properly. I mean it was obvious, but i figured it out. I just need to work through it. I know there are therapies to help with this kind of thing.

Anyways. Subject switch. Its been a year since i tried to run away from home, january fifth 2024. As i was talking about before, because it's so far away now, it feels fake. I’m going to work through it here though because i don’t think ive ever actually unpacked it all.

My mum was really going at me about something. I think she was calling me filthy and disgusting because i was depressed and skipped a some showers or something. I had mentioned to my partner before i wanted to try running away, just to give myself space from her. In retrospect, at this point i still had a lot of mental disconnect from the severity of my home situation, it kind of felt like something that would be solved on its own if i just waited. My partner booked the uber and i packed a big bag of things.

This is where it starts to hurt to think about. I went downstairs and my dad was there. And i smiled at him and said something. And then i put on my shoes. And i had to get something else so i walked to it with my shoes on and i think he heard the shows because as i rushed for the door i heard his footsteps coming to me. I ran out the door to the uber and while i was getting into the car i looked back and i saw him. It was dark and the inside of the house was bright. He was far away and illuminated from the back and he was just. Standing there . in the doorway. He was just looking. I couldn't tell any expression.

I love my dad. But he was always complacent. He sat there and watched. He always sat and watched. And he watched me leave. It makes me feel sick to look back at. I know he has emotions. I don't know how he felt in that moment. Did he know what was going on? Was he confused? Scared? What was he thinking? I don’t know and i never have. The image is seared into my fucking retinas and all it does is hurt.

The uber ride was quiet. The uber driver asked if i was running from my dad. I said no. i said it was someone else in the house. We were quiet. He dropped me off. I got to my partner’s house and i just broke. I couldn’t stop crying, i just kept crying. I was on his sofa and i just kept crying and he tried to comfort me but i just kept crying. I eventually sucked it up but i felt sick. I went up to his room and he had a mattress on the floor. It was for him, he intended to give me the bed i think. I sat on his bed and i held his shark plush and i cried. He brought me water and cucumber slices.

You know what, fuck this.

This isnt me unpacking shit this is just mental self harm why am i even doing this.

My mum called me, she screamed at me and said a lot of bad things, i cried, my partner was mortified to hear it, i called an uber home, i got home, i hugged my dad and cried a bit, i went to bed. Woke up the next day. My mum said more things to me that made me feel sick. I went to college. I came back. We never spoke about it again. The end. Thats it.

I was aiming for that to be more cathartic than it was but it just hurt me. Im going to go back to suppressing that now, i don’t need to make myself think about this. Sorry i keep using full stops i just type like this when im very emotional in a very specific way.

I will make it through one day.