Understanding Why?

Saturday, January 20th, 2024

I have a question.

Why do people care so much about me?

I have had this question running around in my head for the longest time and still it goes unanswered.

Why is it that I can do so much good, and make people see me as a wonderful person, but by the end of the day I still consider myself the villain? Why can’t I see the good in me like everyone else does?

I wish I knew what else to do. Every time someone tells something positive about me, I brush it off. The only time I think about my self is when I can’t stand myself. If I ‘m not thinking about how much I hate myself, then I’m hardly thinking about me at all. Only what I am going to eat today, or if I can going to work on videos or books.

I have so many people I can talk to about this, and yet I still keep defaulting to keep my mouth shut about it all. I made a private story on snapchat where I vent to people I feel comfortable with telling about this. Even the ones I don’t talk to all that much. But they still care.

My friend’s caring about me is a completely different story. My grandmother however. I can’t tell with her. It’s like she wants to find a reason to fuss about something. Every time I try to get her off my back about her random tangents on how I’m ruining my own life and how I don’t do anything for myself. She makes it seem like I’m making her the bad guy every time she’s trying to do what she thinks is best for me. I’m almost twenty-four for fucks sake. I don’t care. I just want her off my back and that she doesn’t have to know every little thing on what’s going on in my life. Then when she’s on her banters about how I’m disrespecting her because I’m not doing what she says, she gets even more upset that I don’t acknowledge it. As if she asked me a question or some shit.

Every time she say there goes that attitude again, then when I tell her I don’t she then replies, well I think you have an attitude. It’s an every day thing. I can’t even sit in the car without her questioning me. Why do you look so blank as of I am supposed to have a constant smile on my face.

I just don’t know anymore. It’s like my world has to revolve around her. Like everything I do has to be approved by her. That every choose I make for myself, without her is disrespectful to her. I’m so done with it. Sometimes I feel bad that I’m complaining about this. That I should be complaining at all about it. This entry was supposed to be about how much I don’t understand why people care about me. But now it’s just turning into why do my friends care about me, and trying to understand my grandmother in general. I don’t know if she cares or is just wanting me to become what she wants me to be. Creating this delusion that she knows what is best for me and I don’t.

Not to mention that she thinks someone is stalking her and tampering with her car. According to her someone has been tampering with her car and watching us from the vents. The same vents that couldn’t even fit a five year old, let alone a grown man. It’s been going on for the past seven years throughout three different apartments including our current one. And she wonders why no one believes her.

I will never understand what goes on in her head. There was a time where my cousin was asking for my number and for some reason she saw it as he wants to have sex with me. How she came to that conclusion is beyond me.

I guess The one thing I regret more, is not saving my money properly. I could’ve had my own apartment by now. But instead I’m going to get a car first, then back to college. Mostly to stay out of the house for obvious reasons.

There is so much to say, and I wish I can find the words to say it. Besides of how much of a headache she can be.

A part of me thinks that all the depression I get from her isn’t because of her and I’m just being a child about all of it. Maybe I am, or maybe it’s just the suicidal thoughts returning. It sickens me that at this point I’m going to try and live out my dreams as a therapist, but can’t even deal with my own thoughts. My grandmotheR always tells me that I’m clearly going through a depression and that I went through child abuse. Half of that is correct, but I want her off my back about it. She thinks she’s being helpful by fussing and nagging at me about it all, which only makes her more frustrated and for some reason she doesn’t see the problem in that.

Not really sure how to end this off, I just really need to rant about this.

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