I think the message I would tell people if I could, the one thing that I could just broadcast is this...you can't break me.
I know people have tried in the past, and yeah, I've gotten pretty bent, but I'm still in one piece. Never will anyone ever get the best of me. You might think you can, you might think that you'll be the one to break me in half, and you might wish you were that person, but you're not. Okay? Get over it.
You can say whatever you want about me, to me or behind my back, and I will still just brush it off and get over it. I'll move on.
There's something I guess I should share with you guys. The way I grew up wasn't exactly pleasant. I wouldn't wish that life on anyone. Between parents that fought constantly over nothing, a dad who was a junkie, a mom who couldn't care if you lived or died because she was too busy babying your little brother, and financial issues, it was hard to be a happy kid. A typical day in high school for me would be something like this:
Wake up, usually a little late.
Take a quick shower, get dressed and ready for school. Which usually consisted of a pair of sweat pants and a tank top. Maybe a hoodie if it was cold.
Running out the front door, where the one good thing about my day stood. His name is Sam. He has been my best friend for years.
Walking to school.
Getting to school, going about my day as if I was fine.
Walking home with Sam.
Going inside and being greeted to an attitude from my mom.
Fighting with my mom, hiding out in my room until my dad got home.
Hearing my dad come home and going to go downstairs but then hearing my parents start arguing. So instead I would flip on the music, turn it up way too loud to drown it out.
Going downstairs for dinner, staying silent the entire time I ate.
Fighting with my parents over ... anything, really.
Going back upstairs, screaming my music at the top of my lungs, going to bed.
Repeat.
Either that or I would run to Sam's house. All day.
That was every day. My parents would just fight and fight and fight. Then, my brother and I started arguing. We would get into fist fights. Full-fledged fist fights. My dad would go get his fix, my mom would sit there and watch as my brother kicked the shit out of me. Then, yell at me, "Jenny, shut up, it didn't hurt that bad. You can breathe, you'll be fine." Can you imagine having to brush off the insults from your own parents? Having two parents who couldn't care less if you didn't come home for days? Having a house that was more like a war zone? Seriously, your house is supposed to be your sanctuary, you should be able to go home and feel safe. I didn't. I felt safer out running around with friends or just being outside. I hated going home.
Christ, when I was like 4, I got kidnapped. I went outside and this woman just snatched me up and kept me in a bedroom for a few hours before my mom actually came looking for me.
But, going through all of that, hearing your mom tell you that you're the reason her and your father fight, hearing your dad tell your mom that she's good for nothing, hearing your entire family jump down your throat for just being yourself...it made me stronger. It got me to this point in my life. I can now look at someone who doubts me, who looks down on me, or just doesn't like me for who I am, and tell them...you will never break me.
You will never be the reason I cry, you will never be the reason I give up on myself, and you sure as hell won't be the reason I leave this earth.
So, to the couple of people out there who think that by saying things like, "you mean nothing to me." "you're not good enough." "you're too (enter any adjective here.)" that you can bring me down...think again.
I promise to rise up above all of your petty shit and all the fucking crap you want to throw at me. I swear to you, one day you will be fucking crawling on your hands and god damn knees, begging and pleading, for forgiveness. You will come to me the same way you always have and look up at me and you will see who I am. Don't you motherfuckers know? I'm Jenny-motherfucking-Lynn. I'm the Death Star. I will ruin your fucking life without even fucking trying. Just remember that shit next time you think about me, just remember that every time you talk about me, that's just one more person who knows about me. You're just getting me one step closer to being a house-hold name. So, please, keep trying to bring me down. It makes me laugh, and they always say laughter is the best medicine.
Jenny-Lynn aka "Death Star".
No comments:
Post a Comment