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Tonight, I skyped my parents. It's so funny on the effects they have on me. Mum was comforting and encouraging, after seeing me in the state that I was in. After my mum attempting to calm me down, my father spoke. And I guess at 18, I'm supposed to be numb towards everything he says but it still cuts right through me.

I partially stopped crying and told my dad whatever I was going through and how much I've been trying to keep up and keep it in but all the did was throw his words around and it stabbed and stabbed and it hurt so fricking badly. It was loud and insensitive and it was cold.

I told him I was trying, he told me it didn't look like it. I told him I was tired, he told me it was because I was doing too much last minute work. I told him it seems like I can't be as good or even on par with the rest, he told me it's because I'm not bloody interested and that I'm not even bothered. I couldn't even reply to a single thing he said because nothing could come out of my mouth. He told me that I'm useless and that I don't even care and I have zero interest in wanting to learn any of this. I hung up on them.

After 7 months, I had my first panic attack. 11 minutes of hell and I hate every single minute of feeling this weak because of the words you've said and the words I've grown to believe.

I hate not being able to breathe. I hate it when my hands start to shake and my knees get weak. I hate it when I cry so uncontrollably I feel like my heart has sunk so deep I can't stop myself. I hate it that I have to clench my fists or hold onto something so tightly because if I don't I can feel myself slip. I hate hyperventilating. I hate panic attacks. I hate you and your ability for saying such heartless things and I hate that you can't see everything that I'm trying to do right now.

You're a hypocrite and you know it. You hate your job but you still do it because you have to. You told me that people who have passion for the things that they do are lucky, because only a few find them. You should know that I'm not one of the lucky ones. Tonight you told me that because I hate what I'm studying, I don't bother and I'm just going through the motions, that's why I'm not doing well. Today you told me that I don't try hard enough.

Mummy just texted me and apologized on your behalf saying 'you know he's like that.'
You CAN'T just throw around your words as though they don't hold any weight. I wanted to talk to you but you just never listened. All you ever think is that when I come crying, I am weak. I know you hate it when I'm weak because you said that weak people never make it anywhere in life. I'm trying. For the whole week, I've been trying to be as strong and determined as I can. Studying 8am to 6pm and 8pm to 11pm every day this week is no joke, but I guess it isn't enough to please you. You CAN'T just want me to be ok with whatever you said and make yourself think that the words you threw at me were accurately describing what I felt because it's not.

Just because I don't seem to like my subjects all that much, doesn't mean I'm not trying. It doesn't mean I don't want to do well. Just because I don't seem to like my subjects doesn't mean I want to risk failing just to disappoint you. But I guess without even doing anything, I already did.




1:36 am: my breathing is back to normal again but my heart is still racing. I'm back to closing my eyes and counting to 10 and trying to focus on the white walls I have pictured inside my head. 1 2 3 4 5 ...