Feel Empty Dead UPside-down

I want to go back to school, well maybe just a little, but financial aid will only cover you if you take a minimum of two classes (six credits). It may seem ludicrous to some, but two classes to me is too stressful. I'd be sucking my teeth with every homework assignment I got. Like, "why is he being such a dick?" I know it's the only way you're going to learn, but I wish there was a fun approach to learning rather than, "students, read chapters 1-5 over the weekend." I can't get with a boring professor just like I can't get with a pastor who starts his sermon with, "turn your Bibles to..." My pastor is not like that. As I may have said before, he's an excellent public speaker, knows so much about biblical history and current events; he really gets into what he's preaching and when it comes time to turn to my Bible, I'm sometimes willing to turn. It's like he's earned my respect and I respect him in return. If he's going to put forth a brilliant sermon, the least I could do is participate. Only when I go to church feeling really depressed do I not take out the Bible when asked to. Back to school, well I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I'm still alive by September. I know God wants me to write, but man, some days I have bad days with what I publish and besides, I can't be doing it forever! Really God, I can't. I've got over 430 articles. You want me to become a veteran? I'm not here to stay. Yeah, I think I have some really good days with my posts and I enjoy venting and/or informing others about my life, but I just want to do my job and leave. Really, I don't know who all my shit is supposed to help, I'm really not a nice soul to be around, but when I put pen to paper I can express myself somewhat brilliantly. My parents give me money, gifts, furniture and other things I need, but really, all I need is love, and although my parents tell me they do I can't recognize it. I don't know if it's because they're married and that gets in the way or they said I love you to me and then would turn around later and punish me with a spanking. I remember in fourth grade I had this assignment of diagramming sentences which I was totally bad at. After the teacher graded it and gave me a low mark, I had to have it signed by my mom. I didn't want to show her the grade 'cause she'd get angry at me. So I forged her signature as best as a fourth-grader could. My teacher found out and she told my parents; my dad got so angry. Instead of hitting me with the belt, which is what he always ran for in the closet, he took the thin stick piece of wood from the old shades that if you pulled down in a hurry would flap all the way up to the top and roll around, and beat me with that. Boy, that would've sent him to jail the way it hurt. You don't do that to a kid! Thanks, Miss Tiunis! You're a cunt! She's probably living in a senior village in Florida. Anyway, my brother got spankings up until he was thirteen or fourteen and he would tell me it just got so boring, like, "is this all you've got?" But one time, when the whole child abuse thing was starting to get the media's attention, my dad was downstairs spanking my brother and I was upstairs near the phone and the spanking just went on and on, without an end it seemed, and I felt like picking up the receiver and calling the police. That would've put my dad in check, even though I would've kept on getting ripped for it from both him and my mom. Hey, my brother means a lot to me. I didn't like hearing him cry when I was in fourth grade and I heard him screaming from the classroom window, and I most definately didn't like hearing him cry when I was much older, whether or not he was faking. Now I can't get my brother's crying out of my head. My dad was the force to be reckoned with...that's why I stayed away from him. Thanks dad. We're sort of cool now, and I love you, but you did some stupid things to us growing up. That includes spanking. My brother may not have a problem with it now, but I still do. I can't love people who say they love me one moment, then chastise me the next so much that it has me packing up my shit threatining to leave. I did that when I was little, and I have to laugh now 'cause it's so funny looking back; I had put into ten and twelve plastic bags everything that was dear to me, my Cabbage Patch Kid, My Little Pony stuff, a playhouse, everything and I was determined, I thought a nine year old could make it all the way outside with that huge amount of stuff. But later on I did flee my parent's house, not once but twice, all because they were being WAY too difficult and couldn't accept me as I was. My parents had always been the ones to shelter me from the real world and just talk at length about it, but when I got older I said "let's see for myself if what they're saying is true," and when they crossed the line with me, I just disappeared into a puff of smoke. I remember the first night I spent on the streets of New York. I think I've said it before; I sat on this stoop and just wished I could've crawled back into my warm, pink sheeted bed and my parents would not yell at me the next day, just be glad I was safe at home. A girl walking past me with her friend stopped and gave me a rose and I just totally started crying. I kept it until I moved out of Covenant House. But look, everything my parents tried to shield me from as a child became my reality as an adult. Now, because I had to go do things the hard way, had to deal with my illness to boot, and did both mostly by myself, well, I don't think I'd be crazy if I ran across three lanes of traffic on the Pulaski Skyway and got myself killed, just FED UP. I am fed up. Angry girl all the time. So foul I even have to wonder why I'm this way. Why do I look so mean? Well, I should only be angry at myself and shouldn't complain because I chose this life for myself. But even when I said to God, "okay, I've had enough. Can things get a little normal for me?" and tried to help myself out as much as I could, he refused and made things worse. I wasn't overweight seven years ago. I didn't have diabetes four years ago. So I shouldn't be held responsible for the girl I am today. 'Cause even when I tried asking for assistance, he was nowhere, absent from my thoughts, absent from my life.