Me and my family part 1

I've always been a misfit.
At school before I moved in 3rd grade.
At school after I moved in 3rd grade.
All throughout middle school.
All throughout high school.
And at home.
I come from a family of the upper to mid-middle class and is now suffering from the economic state our country is in right now.
My dad is a prejudiced.
My mom is a pushover.
My sister is determined to be perfect.
I'd like to start with a little about the relationship between my dad and I.
I never liked him growing up. My dream was to be an actress since 6th grade and it seemed that all he had to say about it was that it was a really difficult field to get into. Everyone kept telling me to have a backup plan. To me, a backup plan sounded and still sounds today like a doubt that you can't make your dream. I'll admit that I'm not sure I want to be an actress anymore. I'm thinking about going to university for four years and major in English and minor in film production, and then move to England (close to London, hopefully) and hopefully become a successful author, make cool YouTube videos like Platoon of Power Squadron by pineappleboyfilms or some other film production with cool effects thing, and if I can't be successful at all that, then I think it would be cool to be a flight attendant. Travel the world and get paid for it sounds like a great idea to me. And lately it seems like my dad has been more supporting of whatever it is I want to do. I can tell already that I'm one of those people that has a hard time finding their right place in life. And I think my dad's finally understanding and accepting that which makes me so happy. But it's still difficult living with my dad. He's always making fun of people on TV when they don't deserve that. He basically doesn't like anyone that's not him or like him. My whole family is against me and my sister dating a guy with baggy jeans, just because it looks stupid to them. But the one guy I like (mentioned quite a bit in my last blog) wears his jeans pretty low. Not so low you can see his boxers or anything, but I'm convinced that he's a good guy and that what other people may see of him, isn't really him. My dad doesn't understand that people can look "unattractive" or however he would put it, and still be good people.
No transition to my mom.
My mom is okay with life and perfectly happy with how things are, except for the fact that I see a psychologist. I'm starting to think that she's convinced I can't be normal until I stop seeing my shrink, which is completely wrong. She's getting mad because I "tell my shrink stuff that I can't talk to her about." But that's the point of a shrink. I can't talk to my family about how annoyed I am by them. How do I tell my mom that I don't agree with her religion? I tried before and she doesn't care. She still makes me go to church. But thanks to my shrink, I only have to go every other Sunday, rather than every Sunday, which makes me feel a bit better. She doesn't understand that if I'm going to be religious, I have to find religion for myself.
And no transition to my sister.
My sister and I are very different. She was in a ton of advanced classes throughout middle school and high school, had really good grades and is studying international business at university. School makes me moan, and the word 'business' makes me cringe. My sister is getting her life all planned out and has been doing this for years. She's twenty and has a really sweet, normal boyfriend that she's pretty sure she's going to end up marrying. She didn't have her first kiss until the night before she left for her freshman year of college, and she's had three official boyfriends since graduating (including the one she's with now) which have all lasted over a month or two or whatever and she had one boyfriend her sophomore year of high school that she broke up with after a week or two. She seems so perfect. But she's always calling me a brat. She's called me a brat for years, since I was in middle school, maybe even elementary school. And a couple weeks ago she was really rude about not giving me a ride home (which I would have been totally okay with had she not been so rude) and I finally summoned up the courage to tell her that I don't like it when she calls me a brat and she was like "Well why didn't you say something before?" I told her it was because I never had the confidence before and she said that was crap. She thinks that I choose to be depressed, have low self esteem, be vulnerable, and be a complete loser to anyone and everyone. But what's funny, is that I don't choose that. It's part of who I am. I was born very sensitive and artistic and that combined with my environment giving me suicidal thoughts. She thinks I chose that. I'm still not sure whether she knows the length of my depression. I never told her and I'm scared that my parents never told her. I know that the last time my mom had a seizure, my dad told me not to tell my sister so I won't freak her out. I know my mom wouldn't remember the seizure, but I'm also afraid that my dad never told her exactly what happened that night.
It's difficult when you live a lie. When your mom doesn't know she scared you half to death just hours before your sixteenth birthday party. When your own sister doesn't know you used to have suicidal thoughts, and yet she's the one person you confided in when you couldn't pull yourself away from mild pornography as an eighth grader.
But there is something I learned in life, that I would never trade anything for: You choose when you're happy.... sometimes.
Sometimes you can't help it if you're sad, and that's okay.
But when you can choose to be happy, be happy.
It's like sleeping in war. You sleep when you can for as long as you can because you never know when the next chance you'll have to sleep is.
I have been choosing to be as happy as I can be lately, because I don't know when my life will fall and crumble around me next.
Right now, I'm choosing to be happy. Unfortunately right now, it's very hard because my sister's on her period.

This guy...

Let's just say that if there was ever such thing as love for the unknown, this is it. I ache every time I see him. I need to see something of his everyday. If I don't see him at school, then I have to look on Facebook. His face makes me feel miserable. But it's the good kind of miserable. The kind that makes you want to feel it for your whole life. The kind that makes you not want to take a chance on him because you're worried happiness might actually come true. You almost hope for him to reject you so you can stay in this miserable comfort forever.
I go to sleep thinking about him every night. And I wake up thinking about him.
But I have no idea who he is.
From what I've seen, he could be one of those guys that gets shitfaced every weekend and fucks girls on the side. Will he leave me in a ditch? Or hold me safe? Maybe I'll be the one girl he'll ever truly care about. That's all I can hope for. I hope that he's the one person who could completely fuck up my life. Then make it all better, just by holding my hand.
What if it comes true? Everything I hope and wish for? Is it a miracle? Or just a coincidence?
What if it doesn't? What if nothing goes right? Is it for the better? Or is it just life?
I need you. You who will never read this. You who I'm afraid to name. Because if I do, you'll know that it's you.
But what do you know? Do you know that I love you? The unknown-mysterious you? You're exactly what I want. Who I want. I've known it for so long, but you could actually be the one to stop my madness. You could be the one to kill the insanity and replace it with a flourishing flower.
I don't like flowers. If this happened, I wouldn't love you anymore. I don't see the point in flowers. Why would you give me a flower? I'd trash everything. I'd ruin everything. I'd destroy our happiness.
But if you're who I think you are, you'd bring it back. You'd throw the flower away and leave me with nothing but desperation. Desperation for you.
Some might say that this is going too far. To talk about you like this. But it's not a crime to tell the world how I feel. It's not a crime to feel like this. But it's a crime to stay silent. How would you feel if I never told you? It's called a secret. Sometimes in relationships, people will call it lying, because the truth was never told. But here I am. Telling the truth. I fucking love you. I don't even know your middle name, favourite colour, or last girlfriend. Did you ever have a girlfriend? Or did you just get on, get off, get out? Or are you a lone wolf? Either way, I'm telling you how I feel. Because if someone felt this way about me, I would want to know. I just hope you feel the same.
I'm a lone wolf. But everything has something to rely on. We could rely on each other. We could be together, just you and me. We could make the world jealous. We could be quiet, and mysterious, and in love. Isn't that what you want? I want it. I want it so much that I'm miserable. Miserable for you.
Do you have pain in your life? I want to take it away. I want to make it my pain. I want to kill it. Kill the pain that fills your heart so all you'll have room left over for is love.
Love for me.
Love me.
Love.