I’m the girl who looks like she has everything. I appear to have money, nice clothing, plenty of friends, a loving family, decent grades. But all of that couldn’t be less of a fantasy if I tried. As far as money goes, I live with my grandparents. In case you didn’t know, once people retire, they live on a pension. A pension comes once a month. That’s it. My money illusion consists of a lot of showing off and barely any spending. Nice clothing. It may look like I have nice clothing, but most of it is the sale section at Target. That plays into the no spending thing. I have hyper-hidrosis, so I have to be careful to choose clothing that doesn’t show sweat. I am also very self conscious about my weight, so I limit myself to very baggy, concealing clothing options. This is obviously very limiting, as well as making shopping very demeaning. I make it my business to know everyone’s name. However, I only really have 2 friends. And even with those friends, I’m on the outside of the friend circle–always the last choice when hanging out. The largest illusion of all is that of a loving family. I mentioned before that I live with my grandparents. That’s because my mother died when I was seven, and my dad disappeared the day I was born. I loved my mother with all my heart when I was a child, and, though I’m sure we had minor fights, I will always remember her as the tolerant mother of a child, not the fuming one of a teenager. My grandparents are opposite. They’ve already been run through the mill. They’ve raised three children and aren’t exactly to have me on their hands in their retirement. They have very little patience and high levels of annoyance.
I’m definitely not saying that I am a bright ray of sunshine at home. I try very hard to be very tolerant and patient to strangers because I hate the thought of being disliked. This sunny outside demeanor is very tiring, so when I get home, I’m usually aching to lash out at someone. My grandparents almost always get the butt end of my bottled aggression. Their old age and my anger combine to form monstrous fights. After many years of this, I’ve gotten pretty numb to it. Today however, we had another fight, a fight that was far more heated than any of the others. My grandparents mentioned my mother (which is something that doesn’t happen often), saying that she was a bitch to raise, and that I’m even worse than she was. They told me they’ve grown to hate me. They told me they’d rather have had me die than my mother.
They said I’ve done nothing for them. They complained about me hunkering down in my room for long periods of time. I guess they don’t care that I’ve done their taxes for them since I was 12. They don’t care that I am the only person in the house who puts a meal of the table. They don’t care that I pick up and dust and clean. They especially don’t care that I’ve worked so hard to do well in school so that I can provide for them. I may not do the things I do with a smile, but that doesn’t hide the fact that I’ve done them. They complain about me not caring for them or about them when all they’ve done is complain about a B in one of my classes, or that the meat was slightly overcooked. I called my ‘friends’ to vent to them. They both said I was overreacting and that they had better things to do.
The fight was about an hour ago. I went to apologize to my grandparents. They told me that they didn’t want to hear my voice or see my face. They told me they always disliked my mother, and that they hate me.
People always say you shouldn’t kill yourself because of the people you’ll hurt. Really, who would I be hurting.

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