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KittyCatPWY

Writing mostly depressing stuff, sorry not sorry.

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  • 28 posts
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  • 01-01-70
  • Living in United Kingdom

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KittyCatPWY
Translate   9 years ago

The C Word "We'll still have time..." To do this, or that and the other thing she tells me. No. I wish I was that naive. I wish I didn't know the statistics. I wish I didn't know the truth, but no... "The pain is too much, so I quit the chemo." My heart breaks as those words escape her lips like prisoners and she was the guard. "He won't quit smoking," she tells me "So I started again." And at that moment every swear word in the book is running through my mind, and they're all directed at him. How can you know someone you love is dying, yet you keep having your love affair with death? "Do you want to be there when I go?" No, no. No! I love you, but no, hell no. How dare you ask me that? I won't even say it out loud, so how dare you expect me to sit there and watch you die?

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    KittyCatPWY profile picture
    KittyCatPWY
    Translate   9 years ago

    My #life... Pushed away, replaced, ignored, criticized, "you look sick", "you're getting thin", "are you pregnant?", "you look a bit heavy", "no one likes a pretty girl with piercings", "you can't do that, you're a girl", "your hair would look bad if you cut it", "you should fix your eyebrows", "why do pretty girls want tattoos?", "you ruined your pretty face when you got that piercing", "he deserves better, (trust me, I know), "then why is he still with you?", lonely nights, crying myself to sleep. Still tired after sleeping half the day away... But still, nothing can cure the tiredness I feel.

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      KittyCatPWY profile picture
      KittyCatPWY
      Translate   9 years ago

      China Or Bust My name is Margie Annot, single mother of three beautiful, loving children. Living in small town U.S.A after their father left us for a younger woman. Being a stay at home mom I was left with only the money in my bank account and little to no hope for finding a job. My three kids, Leeana age 16 is in between her sophomore and junior year in high school. She is my pride and joy, and started helping me with the younger kids after John left us. Then there is Marcus, my 9 year old little man. He is the only man in my #life, and the love of my #life. And last but not least there is little Charlotte (Char for short) 3 years old, so beautiful and so attached to her mommy. Sadly for her she never met her father, seeing as he left as soon as I told him I was pregnant again. Not having hope for a job in a small town in Minnesota, I decided to pick up the gang and move somewhere bigger, better, with more hope, communist China. It may sound crazy to some, but to me it sounded perfect. Equality for all, free healthcare and education for everyone, no poverty, job stability and not to mention the beauty of the country. The kids weren’t too excited when I told them, the whole learning a new language was kind of a downer. But, they had faith and trust in me, so we did it, we uprooted and moved halfway across the globe. While the move drained my American bank account I knew it would be better for us in the end. I would get a job, we would be away from that cheating *expletive* and the kids will have a good and free education. I found a place easily once we got to China, and of course the kids and I studied up on our Chinese, before and during the move, we still are to be honest. The place we found wasn’t much, but it was equal to what everyone else had. It was a 2 bedroom, 2 bathroom one story flat. The baby was sleeping in my room with me and then Leeana & Marcus shared their room. It was fully furnished and we had to pay for utilities and rent. Not a bad deal for what we’re getting. Not even a week into us being in our new home there was a heavy handed knock on our door at about two in the morning. The kids stayed asleep and I was trudging sleepily to the door when it bursts open. I screamed out in terror with tears streaming down my face as men in suits barged into my flat. One grabbed me, holding my arms behind my back as another two of them ran towards the bedrooms. I screamed out in sheer terror once again, unsure of what they were doing or saying. I looked around contemplating what I could do, and the answer was nothing. I hear my youngest start to scream, and that is when I started my attempt at fighting against the man holding me back. At this point, regardless of the fear I realized what was happening to me. I remembered one of the rules of communist China, you could only have two children. Even people who move into the country apparently, only two kids. And this is what they were doing to me, they were making me have only two children. When I realized this I did not cry, I did not scream, I only accepted it. My youngest child, the one I’ve had the least time with, was gone. I chose this for us, I had to accept it, I had to conform. Throughout this situation I know my older children stayed in their rooms because they heard me screaming. After I figured this out everything else was a blur. The next thing I remember is waking up for my first day of work, a secretary for a big industry in China. I soon realized this won’t be a fun job, typing up reports, answering phones and scheduling appointments. But it was something, it was bringing in money and keeping a roof over our four, three heads. This job kept going on and on, picking up phones, typing reports, scheduling appointments, go to bed, repeat. I, being raised in an American conservative household I was always taught to try to move up in my line of work and get better things for myself and my family. I knew it was wrong, but I need to do it, I need to make my family proud, I need to rebel. As the day dragged on I started to do things with more efficiently, faster and producing higher quality. The better I did at my job, the more ambition I had to buy more things for myself and my children. Knowing this was wrong I tried to be subtle about it at first. It started with a coffee cup, a rug, escalating to a table, nothing big at first. And then Christmas came around, though we aren’t religious we still celebrate. That is where it all started to go downhill, faster than up. I spoiled my two remaining children, with makeup and a new phone for Leeana and for Marcus a new video game system and games to go with it. I even splurged on myself a bit and got a new laptop and a few pieces of clothing. We were all happy, I was hiding my real emotion though. I was scared, scared of getting caught, scared of what was going to happen if we get found out. I knew there would be consequences, I just don’t know how severe, or when. Another day, I get home from a boring day at work and lay down to sleep after dinner with my children. I’m fast asleep, dreaming of when I was a happy child, loving my #life, when I still had my freedom. In my dream there is a loud banging noise, I don’t know what it is. I suddenly jerk awake and know it wasn’t in my dream. I start to walk hesitantly into my living room, eyes closed, terrified of what, or whom might be out there. I get to the open living room, and I open my eyes. No one is there, but the pounding on my door is getting louder and louder. I close my eyes because I know what’s coming, I’ve been found out and I am going to die, they are going to kill me because I didn’t conform. I hear the door burst open, the splintering of the wood, because tonight I locked my door. They scream words at me that I can’t comprehend through my fear. I am waiting for a gun against my head, or hands on my neck or even a knife to go into my stomach. And suddenly, there it is the gun against my head. “Margie, you did not conform. You are not equal. You have to go.” the man holding the gun whispers in my ear. Those words combined with Leeana screaming were the last things I heard as a tear rolled down my cheek. And in an instant, it was over.

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      Iby

      Wow great story!
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        KittyCatPWY profile picture
        KittyCatPWY
        Translate   9 years ago

        Hope I've heard too many statistics to have hope. I've done too much research to have hope. I've heard too many stories to have hope. I've seen her like this for too long to have hope. I don't even know the word hope anymore.

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          KittyCatPWY profile picture
          KittyCatPWY
          Translate   10 years ago

          School When I'm in the emergency room for three hours first thing in the morning, the only thing I can think about is my school work. When it's 12:30 am and I'm sitting in bed crying having a panic attack, the only thing I can think about is my school work. When I find that my aunt has stage 4 cancer and they can't help, the only thing I can think about is my school work. When one of my closest friends is suicidal and sick at the same time, the only thing I can think about is my school work. No. This doesn't make me a bad person, it makes me a typical high school student. I didn't mention that I was in the emergency room because I was getting up for school. I didn't mention that the panic attack was brought on by school work. I didn't mention that I cried about my aunt during school. I didn't mention that the conversation with my friend started about school work. When school is supposed to help us, it is killing our generation.

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