The Story Of My Life

I refuse to be known or addressed with my real name,so I'll just use a pen name such as Sam.
My story could be like any other story out there, except it's real. This story is about me and how I grew up trying to live with my Dad verbally and physically abusing me as well. I could still remember back when I was I kid, I was called with lots of nicknames such as "Nicey.., Sweetey and more..." but that's because everyone believes I'm a very kind kid. I probably was, I wouldn't know that because of all those times my Dad beats me up and yells at me with hurtful things. I could still remember myself crying, trying to slowly ease the pain that he gave me physically and emotionally. I didn't know then that it was that. For several times, I've tried running away from home, but couldn't get myself to do it because of my Mum, my siblings and my other families. I loved them too much to do this. Now that I'm all grown up, my patience to my Dad began wearing away. I use to just cry myself to sleep back when I was young, but now I began to grow tired. Whenever I tried to answer back even as nicely as I could, I get yelled at. Recently, my Dad commented on me eating, well I'm actually quite fat, I then left the table and drank water, but due to the fact that I haven't eaten any food all afternoon, I got mad and instinctively slammed the cup on the table. My Dad grew furious and began yelling at me! He then hit me. I acted as if I was okay, because I didn't want my Mum to see me fighting back. I didn't even mean for that slamming thing to happen. I went to my room and recorded on my journal what had happened, and guess who barged into the door and began yelling at me? My Dad. He told me that while he's still alive, he wont surrender. He won't let me win this fight. I was confused, I didn't know what he was talking about, so I began crying and apologized to him, but he said that I never praise him enough and I always answer back to him. Right now, as I write this, teardrops are falling on my eyes. I will try to play the glad game for the ones I love, the ones who I don't want to see me crying again and again. I feel like I've been crying at least once every week. My Dad told me he's giving me a last chance before he does his worse, and he's done quite a lot to me. He had already made my leg beaten up and full of bruises that were way too obvious, he had punched me a few times like 4 or 5, he had thrown a trash bin on my face for not throwing the bin earlier, and he's been saying mean things to me all my life. Whenever I get an achievement, instead of getting a single 'Good job', I get sarcasm. But, it's also thanks to my Dad that I am who I am. I'm a cheerful, happy go lucky character outside my home. People consider me nice yet annoyingly fun and cheerful. Maybe it's because I'm so used to trying to look on the bright side of life that I've always been doing it. Well, there's my story. I know it didn't end well, but the ending isn't here yet. I will still suffer as long as I am alive and I accept that fact. I know for a fact that there are people out there who loves me, and even if I don't know who they are, it still feels good to know some cares for me. Well, thank you for reading! Remember, life is short so smile! That's my motto.
Sam101998 Sam101998
Nov 30, 2012