My first ever memory before I could even speak was being smacked or punched in the head as a kid because my dad was (from what my sister told me in the years later) telling my sister about his mother and father who passed away, my dad was an army medic and he's really fucked up from the shit he's seen but he's also the type to take all that out on his closest, my mother had muscular dystrophy, which passed onto me and my sister, my mother really tried to do shit for us, life felt sorted out even though it was chaos before she was gone.

Tried taking us to Disney land Paris once, where my dad smothered my face with a pillow when I got inbetween the argument because he was about to attack her in the hotel, the Mexican style one on Disney grounds, ended up beating me in the middle of the park because he got too warm on a suunny day too, I'm surprised nobody helped me because I could point the area out if I ever went there again, and it was mid day and packed, beat to the ground and punched in the stomach, winded, about 12-13 years old at the time, I'll go back in time from there actually, my dad was supposed to be a carer, but smoked a lot of weed and drank a lot of whiskey, my mother used a wheelchair and often asked to use the bathroom three or four times while he sat there groaning at her until she pissed herself from the weak bladder muscles (disability) meaning me and my sister had to clean it, often times when this shit happened which happened maybe twice a week he would beat her up too, smacks to the face and so on if he had to help us clean up. 

Basically all of my beatings were in defence of my wheelchair/bedbound mother who had the same muscle wasting condition as me, and those were from the ages of 4-19 -

There's gonna be a lotta shit just as significant I leave out due to not wanting to type it.

My mum passed away around 2014, we don't know what happened really, found her blue and fallen from her bed, saw it all, saw my dad crying telling her he was sorry for it all and kissing her face while he cried, I stood at the doorway stunned in shock and never cried that day, I don't know what happened to me when I saw this, I held my gran as she cried and stood there in the hallway staring into space for an hour or something thinking that people need me right now and I can't cry now.

I hate my memories and wish I could coast through life I really fucking do.

Even after this my dad didn't change though, he started growing weed and still beating me, I'm a smoker myself because holy fucking shit the stress in my head, but it started downstairs, then moved upstairs, where me and my sister slept, grown at the end of a corridor which if anything happened with it and it caught fire would trap me first then my wheelchair bound sister wouldn't be able to get to the  elevator they have in the house, I raised these concerns with my dad first being ignored, then I raised it with more concern, I was beaten, ending up, I get dragged by my shirt to the top of the stairs while my dad is screaming a lime about "I'm the one who brought you into the world and I can just as easily take you out" -

Fucking absolutely horrifying, haunting and wrong.

let me go of course-

One line I hate most from him would be if I was going to kill you you'd be dead now.

I snapped there, we had dealt with such pain of loss amd he still wants to hurt me over his own vices and I could not take it anymore, I goty best friend at the te amd we tried to pry the lock off this door just across from my bedroom at night, maybe 4am because I was fucking done, just done and it all had to go had to be destroyed I wanted to smash and snap every goddamn thing in there, couldn't get it without being loud as shit sho we ended up scuffing the lock up and my dad noticed in the mornigh confronting us, I basically aired my grievance again being sick of the problems it brought and he reacted angrily, he makes threats to us both, specifics I don't remember but goes downstairs, I drop a case of his CDs down after him because by now, I am fucking done with it all, I dropped this far after he was out of its way and the point was to break them, none hit him, but he ran back upstairs with a hammer and pushed me into a desk breaking it as I fell, and my friend hit him hard as hell right in the head, causing an actual cranial eruption in seconds, my friend and my dad scuffle, my dad screams my sisters boyfriends name and he busts out of the bedroom wide eyed like he's seen jesus or some shit and he's stunned like a fish, doesn't know what to do and as such-

Does nothing, we pack some shit after the scuffle and end up over at another friend's house for the night, I stay with my best friend for around a year-

End up in another town after staying with my friend because I was offered "temporary homeless accommodation" where temporary means three years in another town losing your walking abilities and making it hard to see family due to that and the general depression that never let me sleep at normal times, this is around the time the memories started keeping me awake for days on end,

I got a permanent home and I find myself here at the ripe old age of 22 feeling aged far beyond my years in body and mind.

The life I've been dealing with has been throwing me around too much, I've wanted a little peace for as long as I can remember, being stuck in this head is horrible, I've been down the suicidal road, saved my own life and realized that as chaotic as it is it is mine regardless of if I want it or not.

I don't really know what would get be out of this shit, because there's no real cure for memories.

Anyways, a vent, shit keeps me up for days on end and I'm not a stimulant user. 

Thankyaforreadingthisfuckedupshit.