nowyouknow

When I was younger, I used to fight quite a lot with my mom. About everything. And just like many other kids my age, I'd start saying things like that I'd run away and then everybody would miss me.
One day the fight was particularly bad. I was furious and sad and frustrated. Why wouldn't she even try to understand me? So I told her I'd kill myself. And she said "fine, go ahead".
I know she said it because she knew I wouldn't do it and that she just wanted to prove her point. But it was the worst thing she could have said. I had literally been feeling so terrible that I actually wanted to kill myself. And she basically gave me the okay.
It's not right for me to blame her for anything, but it really got to me. Even though I know she didn't really mean it. Even though I know that, it just flipped a switch in my head.
A completely irrational voice began to tell me that she didn't care. And it tells me until now. That I don't matter. That I should just go ahead. That what my father says is true. That all she wants to do is hurt him and that I'm a tool in her games. Or that I'm nothing but a pawn to him, too. Something to direct against her. To hurt. With words, actions, gestures... Just a pawn.
I have trust issues, I'm aware of that. Everything anybody does has to have an ulterior motive behind it. Nothing is for free. There's always a price to pay. Maybe because that's what growing up with parents like mine does to you. Or maybe I'm just paranoid.
I'm also aware of my inferiority complex. I have to constantly prove myself. Not particularly to others, but to myself. I feel like I can't believe people who tell me they like me because... what is there to like? I whine constantly, I have mental breakdowns regularly, I'm not even that interesting in conversations. I constantly need approval because otherwise I keep thinking I'm doing everything wrong and I'm hated. It's stupid, I know. I know it. But I just can't help it. Maybe because that's what being told that you're a failure and being compared to your friends all the time does to you. Or maybe I'm just overreacting and over-sensitive.
I haven't been doing anything but ranting and whining lately, I'm sorry. But I need a vent. There's nothing else I can do here but write down everything; I can't scream or cry because in half an hour the prefect will check on me and notice there's something wrong, I can't go for a walk to cool down because the doors get blocked at 10pm, I can't call my friends because I don't want to be a nuisance. So here I am, spilling out everything on a keyboard. And to be honest, I'm fine with this for the moment. It helps a bit.