January 2nd, 2001

  • evaq8

I am a 6 yr old prisoner.

I wanna go home. I wanna be left alone. I dont want to be in charge of anybody. Im just a kid. Nobody seems to remember that because they ask me to be responsible. I have to take care of her. Her parents cant even do that. I hate her.
Her name is Nathalie.
She cries all the time. She's weak. She's stupid. She's ugly. Her mouth is always open. She's a dork and I am her bodyguard, her protector, her mother. I hate her.
Everybody laughs at her. I dont. I cant. I have to protect her.
Mom and Dad laugh at her. I dont understand. They are adults and they laugh at her instead of taking care of her. Adults cant be trusted. They are weak or lazy.
She's spoiled. She has everything she wants. Including me. Im her object and objects dont have needs. You can ignore object. She uses me.
She is my prison. I cant have friends because of her. I see her 7 days a week. No escape.
I am 6 yrs old and Im in charge of a girl my own age.
The teachers at my school cant take care of her. They come to my class and ask me to make her stop crying.
I am not allowed friends.
I am not allowed a life if it means a life without her.
I hate her so much.
I could kill her.
I could strangle her.
But who cares about what I feel? Im an object.
Nobody helps me.
I know one day I will have to get rid of her myself. I will be 15 yrs old when this happen.

Nine years in prison.
Nine years of hate.
Nine years of being an object.
A lifetime of deprogramming my brain.
  • Current Mood

*pats self on back*

I wrote someone a note that was very hard for me to do. It was not typical for me. I am so afraid to let anyone know when I am upset I do it carefully, gently for I am afraid someone will not care and will be mean to me. Still as part of my resolution, I felt the need to let this person know I was not going to let myself be bothered anymore whether he was my friend or not. That if he was he was and if he wasn't he wasn't. I am not going to make people into more then they are. I do not need people that bad. If they do not show me compassion then I will not work on a friendship or other with them. I am nervous I will get a hostile response back. Men have burned my soul with their words. I still have the cruel ones of my first at the end in my mind. Vicious words I try to avoid by being so understanding and so unassuming. I have had it though and I guess i i will just have to risk someone will say something that may hurt me. They may delete my journal as this person who I wrote this e-mail to has done. In the scheme of things though this person does not matter. People who are insensitive do not matter.


I used to have this doll. It was rather barbaric. You'd push her belly button in and then pull her hair out from the center of her head to make it longer. To make it shorter you'd turn a knob in the back of her.