For the first time ever in my life, my family is not my last and first part of the day

I went into a group home for the first time at 13 years old because I deemed myself to be different from the rest of my family. A family of eight. I’m not special, Nor am I any different than anybody else in the world, specially with my family...trauma is a normal occurrence. and so, like I said, I’m not special nor am I any different than anybody else in the world, specially within my family of eight, wherein trauma is a normal occurrence. I have gone through it all, or maybe just perhaps , the normal listed questions of abuse that a therapist would ask a 17-year-old at a session. they would ask what happened to me...when I was at the age of understanding and being aware of my surroundings, and I would go on to tell a lie, in which I didn’t recognize to be a lie, because no one ever taught me to be truthful and honest. I was broken way before I was born, but no one provided me the fucking comfort that I needed and thus... I deemed it unnecessary for people like me to ask for for help, because, my god, are there so many people like me already in this universe. I am that one person that someone who maybe, even, perhaps is good at heart, would tell someone like my 17 year old self that they are special, when in reality I’m just pain in a physical form. I’m not special. And then I met her. my 2nd shelter ever in my 18 years of life at the time. I met her. Melina was her name, and I felt something for the first time in a very fucking long time/ever...well, as cliché as it sound, I don’t think that I was at first thinking that I was in love with her. Before her, I don’t think I was ever? aware of emotions such as these. I just felt so comfortable and so OK? I also never drank anything before I met her. I hated anything that made me feel less like me because that’s the way my father felt, every Second of every day before he passed away alone and drunk. remember my whole life in 18 years not allowing me to be influenced by any substances of any sort because I did not wanna be like my father. Then I met her , and I just acted like a normal 18-year-old would, if they all of sudden fancied anyone. She made me feel like a human being for the first time ever in my 18 year of age, soon to be 19 year old self. I felt free with her,

whether we were drunk or sober. I could just breath around her and I always felt and still feel choked except if I’m talking to her. And so every night, despite using my usual self destructive measures and plans and unconscious ways of thinking and talking, I go to sleep thinking about her. I don’t know if it’s because I love her, or if it’s because I hate her. I have never known anything but feeling so abnormally normal My whole life. I am not a new discovery or a new way of thinking or a new feeling. in fact, like I’ve said before, I think I’m pain in physical form. There are times where I think I’m not really in the universe spectrum because I think I’m just a fucking emotional aspect of the universe spectrum. I consider myself to be pain In physicality. and that’s why I never truly, and I honestly think this way, is why I was never able to connect with anybody. cause as I’ve always come across me in my 20 year old life thus far, as the most normal pained person ever. and that’s when when/times that I’m thinking about her. Because she makes everything less confusing and complicated. Melina is The first person in life that I don’t have to think of a logical explanation for. That’s how new and how necessary she is for me. I’m broken, sooo fu king broken, and not in a retable way, i fucking wish. I hate her sometimes because my whole existence and life has been about making my family and ancestors feel comfortable. Me liking Melina would accomplish absolutely the Opposite. I’ve never neeedee or wanted anyone else or thing before them (my family) In all my short life. Than I met you. I hate you, but than I find myself wishing nothing but the better for you. I texted her a few days ago while I was drunk. I told her all about what I was feeling. I also made sure to miscommunicate because that’s what I want her to think and feel about me. I want her to be mea and misunderstand me. I didn’t want her to know what it is that I really felt. Not because I already knew where I was aware of what I felt and I didn’t want her to know, because I honestly don’t know what it is that I feel. I want her to be different. I want her to know me differently than everybody else in this university that I’ve come across. But I have a sad, deep feeling in my gut that that will never happen. I love her. At least I think I do. But I’m not hundred percent sure. I wouldn’t be able to consent and be the most confident with this information, because I love her but then I don’t. I love her. At least I think I do. But I’m not 100% sure. I wouldn’t be able to consent and be the most confident with this information, because I love her but then I don’t. I hate me more. I hate me so much, so fucking much more. I wish you never met me I wish I was different than me. I wish I wasn’t the person that was supposed to tell you all the stuff. I wish I was different, I wish I could provide you more, I wish I could show you more things to be thankful for, I wish I could be more. perhaps more me, which is what you deserve, what I believe that you deserve.