My Dark World

I live in the dark place of my mind. I try not to, but most days I just can't help it. It's been 1 week since my daughter's second birthday, and still not one word from my parents. Why should I be surprised since they have yet to send anything for her? Because they said they would the last time we spoke. But who am I kidding really but myself? I should know better. I mean, look how I grew up.
It wasn't an easy life. I know I don't remember a lot of it now, and it's best if I don't. There are plenty of things that should not be remembered. My earliest memories that I can see are me reading Dr. Seuss books at age 3, and a trip to see my relatives on my dad's side that same year. I remember camping trips, and the year we lived with my dad's family when I was 5.  I remember weekly board games, and video games. Getting cable for the first time, and trips to sea world and the zoo.
But all those good times are over shadowed by tons of abuse. And the fact that I was told a few times that I was a mistake. I wasn't supposed to be born. I was beat a lot as a kid. Dragged down stairs, pulled around by my hair, screamed at constantly, and did all the work around the house. Hell, I was the one in trouble when my brother didn't do his chores. I learned how to do laundry by just randomly pushing buttons on the washer til it turned on because no one taught me, but I was expected to do it. And heaven forbid I ever forget to finish!
I didn't have nice things, plenty of hand me downs and broken crayons. My parents always complained about buying us things, or paying bills, but they always found plenty of money for their drug addiction. Every day. Surprisingly I was only made fun of once for my hand me down clothing. And it happened to be a Browns winter coat. But I think it was because the previous year they had just moved the team, and all the fans hated them. But I walked to school those two years, and it was warm. I didn't care. Any other time I was made fun of was because I wore hideous giant glasses and had lots of acne, which I still can't get rid of.
I really am the Cinderella of my house. Not wanted and doing all the house work. My brother got away with everything. Because my parents wanted him. I did the cooking, the cleaning, the laundry, the dishes, cleaned up after the dogs, mowed the lawns, weeded the gardens, dusted, vacuumed. And redid everything if it wasn't perfect. I was blamed and beat and yelled at even if it wasn't my fault. And I had to keep my grades up. I wasn't allowed to hang out with friends from school. But my brother was any time he wanted. I asked once in highschool to go to a friends house because we had a group project. I was home 1 hour late for a curfew no one mentioned, arriving home at 6pm, and beat black n blue. I never asked again. I never even staid after school for any activities except one day a week because it was only an hour.
My parents also didn't let me go to the college I wanted. I had no way to get there, and they wouldn't spend any money on me to go. And they told me this the day after scholarships for any school in Ohio was due. Because a month before they were "happy" I got into the college I wanted.
How did I ever make it out alive? They treated the dogs better than me. I don't know how I never killed myself back then. Just to be free. I wanted to be free of the pain and suffering so bad, but I never did. I didn't even have the strength to run away like my sister did. Because the system didn't help her. And they didn't take me away.
And now, now I live in that dark place again. This pain in my hands, I feel like I'm suffering again. I wonder what I have done in a previous life to deserve this. And all I want to do is give up. And reaching out seems to push people away. I try not to think like this, because there are still many things I want to do, to see. But the fact remains that I still want to give up and end it. I wonder how much happier people will be not to hear me constantly complaining. To not have one text asking for help. One less mouth to feed. One less to spend money on. Because I've been treated as worthless my entire life, I still feel this way when nothing good happens. I know I am broken, but who really wants to fix me? I think about these things constantly, and wonder how to get pass all this. I may never have those answers. It's just getting thru one day at a time.