Secondary Characters

I’ve always felt this way, but lately it’s been a really present feeling. I feel like a secondary character in life. I’m the one meant to help give advice to the main character. I’m the one who helps the main character find out their purpose. The one who says “It’s not my destiny to do this, it’s yours.” Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. I don’t mind it because that’s all I ever want to do in life is help people. This is a strong feeling for me lately in my love life. I’ve realized that I don’t think I’m meant to find “the one.” I’m not supposed to have a partner for life, what I’m supposed to do is show people who pick the wrong relationships, how they are should be treated. It’s happened to me so many times. I will start crushing on someone, they will like me back, and we will start a little romance thing. However, soon enough the fire dies down, and the person thanks me for being a positive force in their life. They tell me I’ve shown them what love should be like, but they just don’t love me anymore. I become a supportive friend who has made a difference in how they view themselves and their relationships. I’m never “the one.” Yeah yeah yeah, “but you’re too young to find the one, you have your whole life ahead of you.” Before you go comment that, this is just my own feeling. Maybe I will find my forever partner (most likely it will be a cat), and maybe this feeling I have is wrong. I can’t tell the future. I can only listen to my heart which is telling me that I was never meant to have “the one.” I could be wrong, but if I am right, I don’t think I mind.

What lead me to this conclusion, is that yesterday poem guy (I haven’t written about him in a long long long time) and I sort of broke up. We were never dating, but we loved each other and acted like a couple. It was just too hard to keep up a long distance relationship, and we were just too different. He would do so many of my pet peeves. For instance, he was a volunteer firefighter and he would text me something like

Him:”Sorry I took so long to respond , had a fire call”

Me: What happened is everyone okay?

Him: Signal 20

Me: Signal 20?

Him: Yeah

Me: What does that mean?

Him: Hold everything on scene

Me: Okay, what does it mean to hold everything on scene?

Him: Hold everything on scene

Me: Um okay then

I hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate when I do my best to show an actual interest in people’s lives and they just blow me off. Like, is it so hard to say that hold everything on scene means that you are on the scene and have your firetrucks there and are investigating, but it doesn’t seem like there’s a fire? There may be a fire, but you have to investigate and check everything before you declare it a false alarm. I found that out from another volunteer firefighter by the way because poem guy never bothered to explain. When people do that it makes me feel dumb, it also makes it seems like you don’t care that I want to know about your interests. He would do that all the time about fire calls, about him fixing up cars, about everything. He would say he loves how I’m interested in his hobbies, but then he would just assume I should know everything and refuse to explain. There were other pet peeves, but that’s the only one I feel like explaining.

So, the thing here is that once again, he told me all the time that I showed him what relationships should be like. He would tell me that I showed he how to be treated right. Now, with any hope, his next relationship won’t be a messy one. Ours wasn’t messy at all, we ended it in a mutual agreement, but it’s over. I’m a secondary character. I play a vital role, but I’m not the one to achieve anything great. It’s why I want to be a teacher. I want to help as many people as I can live up to their full potential. Some people are meant to be doctors, volunteers, policemen, and incredible things. Some people are meant to help those people reach the greatness they were meant for. I’m the latter, and that’s okay with me.

-AcuteAnimosity

Dancing Queen

She is the dancing queen, young and sweet only 17, but not for much longer. My birthday is this week, and I’m going to be 18. Officially an adult, legally allowed to smoke my lungs black, to gamble away all my money, to vote in this awful election, to get my own loans, to go to a strip club, to get married! The list goes on. Now, I’m not going to actually go out and get a pack of cigarettes or run off and elope or even visit the strip club, nonetheless, it is still exciting.

I’ve always had a tremendous amount of freedom in my life. My mom let me do nearly anything (except walk to the park alone because I guess that’s very dangerous) as a kid. I got a tattoo at 17, I traveled on my own at 15, I’ve even drank alcohol with my mom. Going to college wasn’t a huge shock to me because when I was going to go somewhere or have a sleepover, I asked my mom out of formality. I knew she trusted me (a trust I earned). Turning 18 is exciting, but also a bit mundane. I’m already on my own at college, really the only thing new is that I’m going to vote. However, that’s a political can of worms I am not opening on this blog.

I’ve never really liked my birthday to be honest. It’s so close to my favorite holiday (Halloween) that it almost feels in the way. I’ve never been a huge birthday person, mostly because I hate gifts and attention. Okay, as a birthday gift to all of you, I will get real personal.

My dad is a jerk. Gosh I so hope he never finds this blog. Basically, he has done a lot to hurt me throughout my life. My parents are divorced, that’s no secret, but my dad and I never got along well. Throughout my life he made me feel worse and worse about myself. He’d indirectly call me fat or tell me I’m too short to be pretty or that I hurt him so badly whenever I couldn’t come over to his house one weekend. It wasn’t too bad, I could handle it. However, he would always get me cheap gifts. I would come to his house and a cheap CD player would be on my bed, or a coloring book, or a pack of gum. Stupid little things he would get me to buy my love. Stupid little things to make himself look like the better parent. Meanwhile he would neglect child support and never open the college fund he was court ordered to put money in every month for me. Then I made a mistake. I went on a suicide hotline one night, not because I was going to hurt myself, just because I needed someone to talk to. It’s probably my greatest regret. I talked about my dad to the person online. I told them everything. Things I had never ever told anyone before in my entire life. I told them about everything he did, I guess they thought it was bad enough to find out my name and call CPS. CPS investigated my life. They interviewed me, my brothers, my dad, my mom, my step parents. The tore my life apart. I lied. I told them how much I loved my dad. I told them what a great father he was. They, in turn, told me I was wasting their time. I was a perfectly happy and healthy teen, and I shouldn’t have gotten a suicide hotline involved. After that, everything got so much worse.

He sued for custody of me. He lost and won. He got more custody of me, but not full. I had to see him every Tuesday and Thursday and every other weekend. Things got bad. He would do the same things to me, more often. The things he said were harsher.  I never loved my grandma who had just passed away. I hate my step mom. I don’t care about my step brothers. My mother is evil. My step father is a nut case. Why don’t I work out more? But mostly he would tell me about how much I’ve hurt him. He would tell me over and over and over and freaking over that I didn’t love him nearly enough. He told me that so many times that it became true. He would say that all I ever want to do is hurt him. My mom has turned me against him. He would say how he knows I’ll try and never see him again when I go to college. He knows I’ll keep his grandkids away from him one day. Finally we got into the biggest fight we’d ever been in.

He came into my room and started yelling the same things he’d always said calmly to me. I hate him, I hurt him, I don’t care about him, my mom ruined his life, my mom turned me against him. He was kicking my door over and over. When that wasn’t enough, he opened my door and slammed it closed and opened it again and slammed it back again and again. To this day every slam of a door is a fist clenching my heart in its palm. I can’t hear the slam of a door without jumping and remembering. I texted my mom to pick me up as soon as she could. I ran out of my room and he ran after me. I made it outside before fear froze me completely. All those awful things he had done to me. I don’t know what happened next. My mom said she found me laying and shaking on the pavement with him trying to pick me up and hug me.

After that, I got his custody taken away. That was the summer of junior year. My lawyer told me that if I still want child support, I have to still see him sometimes. My mom told me he’s still my dad so I have to see him. I would see him every few month my senior year. Now that I’m in college, I talk to him more than ever. He’s near my college a lot because of his job and he texts me almost every other day. I broke my step brothers’ hearts by leaving. I made my dad’s side of the family hate me. I’m not making that up either, my cousins sent me a letter describing, in detail, how much they hate me. They included picture of me and on the backs of the picture they said horrible things to me. What kills me is that after I went and made my whole dad’s side of the family hate me, I still have to see him. In high school I used to say to myself I only have to go through three more years, only two more years, one more year. Now I find myself doing that again. Only four more years until I can have my degree and go anywhere in the USA in search for a teaching job. I’m hoping my willingness to leave my current state will help me find a job. A lot of teachers can’t find jobs because they want to stay home, however I want to be almost anywhere but home. Hopefully that helps me.

So I’m sorry I said all this stuff. I know it wasn’t the happiest of posts I could’ve made for my birthday, but I share so much here, it hasn’t made sense to me that I never said this before. I apologize about some of the blanks in this story, there are still some things I’m not comfortable sharing. I left out a lot of things because I just don’t like to be reminded. If anything maybe my story will be a comfort to anyone out there with family issues. I know what it’s like to have no one believe that you are being abused mentally or physically (I don’t like to say that I’ve been abused because then people assume things, and I know I had it easy compared to some kids. While my dad did harm me a lot mentally and physically, I know it’s nothing next to some stories. Also, my dad always victimized himself and told me I was hurting him, I refuse to play the victim). I know what it’s like to have to lie so that you don’t hurt other people. If you ever need someone to talk to, I am here for you. I wouldn’t trust suicide hotlines anymore, but I would never disclose information to anyone. I promise my next post will be more upbeat! I think I’ll talk about Halloween next time. I loooove Halloween so it should be a bit happier. Happy birthday to me, I love you guys, here’s to another year of blogging!

-AcuteAnimosity ❤