Today isn't the best day of my life.
I woke up I did and it's me who has to live with the damage done to me. I am in pain, I still feel tired. I heard the nurses whisper together while they looked at me. Whispering is impolite, it is rude if other people are around.
They say it will be alright but it's just what they say to calm someone down, to comfort a person. If I will be fine now and in the future, they can't know. I am a child but that doesn't mean I am stupid. If something is broken it cannot be fixed, be like new. It shows and will always show. Cracks do not make anything stronger or look better. I heard people say scars are beautiful and it is a sign you lived. People tell a lot of nonsense. If you ask me it is because they do not dare to say the truth. They have nothing to say so they say what others said or say it with stupid jokes or memes. I do not understand why adults live in fear. They fear to say the truth. Lying is easier so they lie. They lie about everything. It would be better if they believed in their own lies and lived by what they say but that is too much asked. Adults lie, lie and preach. I am tired of all of it but most of being alive.
God doesn't exist and if he does he is a mean person. I do not feel his love or anyone's love. God is about hate, wars, fights, murdering and dominating people. Perhaps she is god, not the queen but god. She is a monster. A monster wrapped in a nice body. People believe her or they fear. She is untouchable. She has dad and the rest is quiet. Who do I have? Who will help me a child in need? She said I did this, I brought this upon myself. That's why people are whispering. She told them I am a crazy child, I molested the house... I was in such a rage and she didn't know what to do. She lied herself a way out and gave all credit to me.
"I am crazy, crazy, crazy... You drive me nuts, nuts, nuts... I am crazy, crazy crazy... You drive me..." The times she said that, kept repeating those words are countless. I was the only one hearing them for hours in a row. So if I am the only one who heard them does that mean those words are mine? She will not say them if other people are around. No, she will say "She is crazy, she drives me nuts..." and people pity her because her child is a monster. I am a monster, an ungrateful monster.
Does auntie believe it? My mother is her sister and I know she fears her. Auntie cries if my ma does not agree with what she does. That's why she lives far away. I don't know if grandmother believes her. She must know her child is a monster. A monster that scares and threatens people. A monster that harms people. I am not a monster. Any detective could see that. What happened to me, the injuries... I couldn't do that to myself but detectives, the police never shows up at our house. The police don't care about children. Only in crime series, there is a policeman interested to figure out what really happened. Like Kojak or the man in the dirty coat or Mrs Marple or the author who writes about murders but you know what? It's never about children. Children, child abuse is never a crime, not in the world of adults. Some talk about it but if it happens right into their face they don't recognize it and blame the child. To adults, little children are the monsters. I wonder how come they so easily forgot how it was to be a child. How it was to be not heard, loved, scolded at, to grow up in fear.
Why should anyone like to be a nurse, a nurse at the children's station? The nurses here are not different from the others. They do not care about children. They do their job without love and in a hurry. Most time they spend in their coffee room chatting with each other. They don't like it if you push the button to call them. Grumpy is what they are if you ask them something. Ignoring questions is a habit of them too and if they don't know what to say they come with those empty words and say I will be fine, everything will be fine... soon. It won't be fine, it never was fine. It will only get worse. My mother will never admit what she did to me. She will do everything in her power to prove that I am the idiot, the one with the crinkle in her head. The only crinkles in my head are my brains and it's normal they are crinkled just like walnuts. Grandmother said her mother was sent to a nuthouse because at that time people didn't know better. She wasn't crazy but acted differently. Different from what people were used to. If you can not take care of yourself, if you act differently or if you harm others or yourself they lock you away. They give you pills or jabs and lock you away so the other people don't need to see you. They forgot to lock my mother up somewhere far away. It is because she is smarter than all people together. She gets into their heads, knows how they think. People believe what they like to believe. To most of them she isn't a monster but a porcelain doll you have to handle with care and protection. Men like that. They believe her. Policemen, doctors, teachers they all believe her.
In a few days I can go home is what the doctor said and he smiled. I stared at his face and wonder why he smiled. Home is the last place where I like to be. My back still hurts and so do my hips, neck, head and ear. "You had a serious concussion", he said, " but it all will be fine. Children are so flexible." Flexible? What does that mean? That I am made out of a material that cannot be harmed like those jars with slime? The doctor looks nice but I didn't answer his question what's wrong. I didn't say how I feel and no one asked me what happened. He said he would observe me a bit longer. I no longer need to stay in the dark. Not that hospitals are dark. The white walls hurt and nurses can't see in the dark, the cleaning ladies can't see in the dark. "Wear these glasses", he said as he handed me over a small package, "it protects your eyes and brain". I wish that was true. I wish there was a suit that protected me against my mother.
As he opened the curtains and the sunbeams shone on my bed I saw what he already saw... bruises, blue, green, yellow spots all over me. "It will heal", he repeated while he removed the needles out of my arm. I am not sure if he believed it but I know it's not true. If so much is damaged it will never be the same, never be brand new again. Just like auntie Cornelia, I will live with pain every minute of the day for the rest of my life. That is if I manage to stay alive.
In a few days, I have to go back. I don't want to though. I don't know if I want to be alive. I am tired and didn't want to end up here in hospital. What I wanted is to sleep. My friend waited for me. I felt happy he did, I was happy to leave. In this world there's is no place for ugly, disabled children, for people who are not healthy, strong, liked or heroes. I am one of those children people only notice because they look different or if they need someone to kick.
I didn't lose my memory... not all of it. I know she kicked me. I hear her terrible voice but I can't remember who stopped it. Who took me over here?
"It's time to sit and walk a bit", the nurse said, "I heard you can go home soon". She helped me to sit down and helped me out of bed. You can walk into your room a bit and sit at the window.
Later I'll sit at the window. Now I will practise how to walk. How to take care of me and protect me. There's no way I can escape from the monster that waits for me. Ready to kill. A monster hid in the body of an angel, a porcelain doll with blond hair and blue eyes. A beloved doll that should be handled with care. Blond is good dark is bad. It's what everyone believes. All good characters are always blond and that's why no one believes me.
I have no visitors, no cards, no one asks for me or misses me. If nothing reminds me of what she did to me I can leave. If I leave it will back to normal again.
I see water flow. If I had a bottle I could send this away. Someone might read it and know I exist. No one can rescue me but there is no need to. I never intend to wake up. The doctor didn't do me a favour, didn't rescue me. What he did is making it possible for her to get away with it and to hurt me again, even more. Why? Because she didn't succeed all those times before.
The night nurse gave me the paper and pencil to kill time if I can't sleep. She said I can call if I need something but I will not call for her. I write. Perhaps it helps to scare the headache away.
Saturday
July 24, 2021
A kid's diary
That terrible voice
https://read.cash/@wakeupkitty/that-terrible-voice-6dc38bdc
Gym camp with bullies
https://read.cash/@wakeupkitty/gym-camp-with-bullies-603e48d1
It's all about lives I never live
https://read.cash/@wakeupkitty/its-all-about-lives-i-never-live-47702272
He pulled their wings out
https://read.cash/@wakeupkitty/he-pulled-their-wings-out-e81e614e
This is a trobuled child, She was caught in the midst of a chaotic and problematic life. She is confused about her existence and about current issues. She is trying her best to uncover and solved her problems.