Sometimes it is like I was made out of two or more souls that were just mashed together without much regard whether or not they would actually be able to grow together. 

I can hardly feel and I hardly want to. The only things I am certain of is pain and anger. But then there's always hope. The cause of my internal struggles? 

Hope isn't always good. Not when you want to revive toxic relationships and you want to cling on to a life in which you were never really happy. But hey, lost everything, so nothing matters, I guess? 

I am so afraid of making the wrong decision. So currently I don't express when I am being hurt and it's ok when the provocations are held to a certain limit. But I wasn't meant for this. Need to learn not to care. It seems to me that life is a lot about dying. I wonder how many times I will die before I take my last breath. 

A few nights ago I dreamt that my mother died. I have been afraid of her death for a long time because it will mean that my time to have a meaningful relationship to her has run out and everything will be set in stone. I so wish we could get along. But it's just circles. And everything is so terribly predictable as of yet. 

My brother beat me up when I was younger. And I know there's a weird cultural phenomenon where domestic violence among siblings seems to be oddly tolerated by some people... Those people for the most part have not been on the receiving end.

Up until a year he still made jokes about it and pretend hit me just to remind me that he is in control. 

Now my mother told me that I should put my act together when I talk to him on Christmas. (This has hardly ever been a two-sided conflict. I am guilty of screaming and crying while being hit.)

I am too tired of this family. It doesn't matter. I don't even matter to them. She might die one day but all she will care about is how I made her look and how I made my brother look. 

I am sorry for what you did to me? I am sorry I didn't stay in a position that would have ended with me committing suicide? 

I don't think she has ever loved me. Maybe she tried, when I was younger. But then she had to chose between me and my brother. And she chose that I wasn't worth the risk of upsetting him. Maybe it's because I am a girl and after my father left she felt like she needed a man in the house. Maybe if I was just born with a different gender, maybe then my parents would love me. 

But hey, never too late to change your gender, ey? On second note I might just quit my parents.