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The core of my fear

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There are a lot of things I'm afraid of.

I'm afraid of people, books, internet, food, guys, Korea, terrorism, death, Canada, politics, church, God, friends, family, my mother, my exboyfriend, my roommates, my stuffed animal, coffee etc. etc.

Well pretty much everything in life.

But why? I've wondered why for so long.

I think I finally know why.

I'm afraid of the suspense!

When I lived with my mother. Everyday the violence happened.

She cursed at me and hit me. It was what I always expected from her and it always happened.

But after I moved away from her when I was 16, I was still expecting violence.

I was expecting my mother to somehow come after me and make my life dramatic and miserable.

But it never happend.

The violence ceased all of the sudden and I couldn't stop expecting it.

I'm still expecting my mother to come find me and with a golf stick or something

try to hit me and tell me that I'm worthless and stupid etc. etc.

So that I can fight back or run away while yelling back at her telling her to leave me alone

But nothing happens.

This suspense has been killing me.

what should I do?

I guess living back with my mother would be a possibility, although that would be a suicide and pathetic and stupid.

I should live with my dad except he lives in friggin Korea.

I can try and create drama in my life in order to resolve some of this tension.

However, merely meeting friends or having a boyfriend doesn't work.

Reality is so friggin boring.

Maybe I should watch a movie everyday or something

It might take too much time but I will only do it until I become a little saner.

Meh, I feel like eating ice cubes.

I'm gonna run to the store nearby and buy ice cubes.

I'm gonna ignore the cashier guy who I'm scared of for no reason.

He's super cute.

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Stephensloril 5 pts

My mother was also abusive. She used to tell us that she hated us and that we were the worst kids in the world. It became her habit to slap me in the face, HARD, while looking at me like she hated my guts. My first day of kindergarten I went to class with a big, red handprint welted on my face. I could never understand why she hated me so much. I mean what could a five year old ever do to make her mother hate her so much? These kind of things went on until just after I turned 14 when she threw me out into the streets, and I never returned home.

I now know that it wasn't me that she hated, she hated herself and her life. Her only source of contentment was to know that others were pulled down into equal wretchedness as well.

Lori L Stephens        http://www.GetOutOfTheTrap.com ( http://www.getoutofthetrap.com/ )

http://www.GetOutOfTheTrap.com ( http://www.getoutofthetrap.com/ )