sexta-feira, 6 de novembro de 2009

Echoes in a Box

In the last days i haven't talked to my brother, neither my father for what happened.

Somehow it seemed like my brother took a "victim behavior" considering the situation, wich worsened things for me, my father came to my room last night as if the ceiling over our heads were to fall, making questions(not hearing my answers), saying that i was acting strange, and making everyone sad, but there's something to be considered first.

During my whole life(short, compared to people with the same amount of problems), i was always considered responsible for the family dramas that happened,for an example, my stepfather
used to call me "the coal that darkens this family", and my mother called me everything she were, materialist, selfish, and in most cases, an horrible person.
The way my life went after people started blaming me for their faults, didn't changed, everyone says the same thing, and no matter what i do, to stop or avoid the problems, people always blame me.

Just like a monster, it seems that everywhere i go, people look at me, and treat me bad(even when i'm trying to help, while no one cares), it's almost as if i were born with a sign saying "SCAPE GOAT" in big, bold and red so then everyone can blame me.

I don't even understand the argument my father said, that i can't be the only one right, and almost everyone wrong, but from what i know, i'm a loyal friend, i preffer to fix everyone else's problems than mines, and most of the times i keep my wounds to myself, just to not bother anyone with my problems, and yet, i'm still a bad person.
I don't have a mutiple-personality issue, and i can assure that i act this way 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and still they take their own conclusions about me,and they never hear what i'm saying.

That's why i decided to use that phrase on the headline.
After my father said i was wrong, that i don't have any friends, and not even my grandparents liked me, i decided to sit at the Gym, and talk to myself(because at least, i can talk, listen and be heard by myself), while my stepbrother was up in the appartment playing the victim, and my father, probably too.
I was unconfortable, talking to myself, in an empty-old-room, with the low lights, it seemed like i was just talking, and my words were echoes in a box, because no one ever cared about me, and worse than that, i'm always responsible for everyone else's problems without even knowing why.

I've made some Artwork, they look kinda nice:

Sometimes i don't know why that kind of things happen to me, i guess that one day i'll get used.