Because it would be things like I'd break a nail or I'd get a pimple and it was like the worst thing in the world. I remember spending a whole night crying because I'd dyed my hair and it hadn't come out right, so I was up all night in tears and all my friends stayed up with me, and other girls too, because no matter how I treated them, no matter how horrible I was, they still wanted to be friends with me, and so they all stayed up, comforting me. Like it was the worst thing in the world. But the thing is, that's how it felt. And the way I was then, it really was the worst thing in the world for me, because I'd seen nothing of life, real life, how real people live, so it felt as bad to me then as anything, anything that's happening now or anything that has happened since, because that's how I was back then, not real, not a real person, not at all. Because that school, that boarding house and the people there, the girls, their families, boys we knew, all people with money, it was a different world and they didn't know and they won't ever know. I mean what life's like. Not like most people know it, not like you know it, or I know it, now, ordinary people. But I can't help thinking, and I think I'm right about this, that it was the reason my parents sent me to that school. Because they wanted me to be part of it, part of that world. It was because that didn't want me to end up like I have.
And I know we were only girls but that doesn't matter because if that made a difference then why would I still remember like I do? Why would I still feel so bad about the things I did back then and how I was? Because I do. I feel it like it happened yesterday, only then I didn't care and it's only now I care and it's more than that I care, it's like a knife in my heart, when I remember. And I think of it so much now, more than I did back then. I don't think I thought of it at all back then, and I would like to think I'm different now, that I've changed, that I'm not that person. I would like to think I'm a different person now, a better person. But sometimes I think that, despite everything, despite all these years and being stuck in this town and everything that's happened, when I'm really honest with myself, I think, well I know that I haven't really changed that much, deep down I haven't. I mean, some things have changed and I have changed in some ways, and I know everything seems so different now and on the surface things are very different, I mean, they couldn't be more different, when I think of that school and me and my friends and so many years ago and just a girl and now me, here, with Brett and stuck in this town. But maybe that's all just on the surface because I'm still spoilt, in my own way, and I might not be so nasty, such a bitch, but I wouldn't know, because I don't have the chance to see what I'm like now, how I'd act with people, I have so little to do with people anymore, and so things may have changed and my problems are so different now and everything has gone to pieces, but I still think there is something about the way I am, something the same as back then.
I mean, I still do whatever I want. I do what I want when I want and it's like I said, I do nothing all day. I sleep in, I sit around, watch TV, do nothing. But maybe it's because I don't have to do anything, not because I can't, maybe just because I don't want to, because I still only do what I want to do, same as always. I mean, I've only ever done things when I want to, when I feel like it, and never because I have to, it's always been like that for me, except now I don't do anything at all and I know I said I hate it and I do hate it, I really do hate it, watching time pass, doing nothing, but it's because I can't be bothered, because I don't have to answer to anyone, not now. I don't have to answer to anyone at all.
And I'm always blaming my mother and father for not wanting to have anything to do with me anymore, but truth be told, I suppose I wouldn't want them around, when it comes down to it. Because I do think my mother would be prepared to reconcile with me, now at least. My father, he's a different story. But I think if I were to make an effort, to make some effort with them, I think even my father would come around, he'd probably come around eventually, if I really did try to make things work. And don't think I haven't thought of it because I have and I do, all the time, and it wouldn't be easy, but all of it with my parents, a lot of it's on my part, well it's all me, really, to be honest. I blame them but it's always been because of me, from the start it's been because of me, because of what I did and the way I did it and I think that's why it's still there, the problem. It was the way I did it.
But the thing is I haven't made an effort, have I? I've never made an effort, with them, never even tried. But I don't think I really want to, I just don't think I want them back in my life. Not now, not the way things are now, not when I've become what I am and maybe it's because I'm ashamed, or too proud, because I know everything they said was right, back when it all happened, and everything that's happened since has been just like they told me, exactly what they said would happen, and so they were right and I never listened. I did the opposite, I went against everything they said and I knew it, at the time, I knew I was throwing it all in their faces. And so they were right, in the end, and still right, after all this time and maybe I just don't want to admit that, at least not to them.
And besides, I couldn't bear them seeing how I live now. I mean, my mother, I know exactly what she'd say. My God, she'd throw a fit. I can just see her, going around the house, telling me off for every little thing, nagging me. I mean, if she ever saw the state of the place, the way Brett just comes and goes or hangs around in the garage drinking and me doing nothing, not even trying to make things better. I know exactly what she'd say.
But my father, he'd be different. I mean, when I was younger my mother was at my throat all the time, but my father was the opposite, he was always trying to help, trying to understand. And he tried to help as much as he could, but the thing is, I hated that even more, and I know this sounds terrible, but I blame him for how I was then and I blame him for how I am now as well, because it was my father who spoilt me, he always spoilt me, ever since I was little. And he was never anything but kind and patient with me and he'd always hear me out, whatever sort of stupid little problems I thought I had. I mean, I hated being a boarder and I hated that we lived on a farm because most of my friends were day girls and it seemed so unfair that they got to go home after school and I was still there at the boarding house, being watched over all the time, always told what to do, and then that I had to come home on the holidays, back to the farm, in the middle of nowhere when all my friends were still in the city and meeting up and going out and getting together with guys we knew, and I was stuck on this farm with my parents and nothing to do and I felt like I was missing out on everything.
And so that's when it all came out, when I was at home, during the holidays, and my father would listen to me when I carried on, chucked my little hissy fits. I mean, I thought it was all so unfair, I thought my life was so unfair back then, I thought I had it all so bad and so I'd carry on about it and my father would listen to me, all my stupid, petty whingeing and he did try to help, but he couldn't. When it came down to it there was nothing he could do, and I suppose that's why I used to take it all out on him. I blamed him for everything and he really did try to make things better for me, but he couldn't and I knew he couldn't so I just threw it all back in his face and it hurt him, I really used to hurt him.
And he was always trying to be kind and understanding, but I think now that maybe my mother was right after all, he did spoil me too much, and I think it was to make up for the fact that he couldn't change things because I think he must have known it too. But he did listen and he did understand, he knew how important it was for me to keep up with my friends at school, so he'd give me money for clothes and going out and stuff like that, whatever I wanted, whatever I asked for, he never said no to me. But for me it was never enough, and in a way it really wasn't, because I could never keep up with them, my friends, the day girls, because no matter how much my father gave me, they always had more and so I was always fighting just to keep up with them, to fit in, and back then that was the most important thing in the world to me. But I could never have what they had, I could never really keep up. And I blamed it all on my father and I still blame him, but it's for other reasons now, it's for the opposite reason.
Because back then I thought I could have everything, not do anything for it, work for it, I just expected it, expected it all to be just given to me, and I know it sounds like a horrible thing to say but I do think it was my father's fault and I still think that. Because he spoilt me, yes, but not just that, it was the things he was always telling me, that I had so much to look forward to in life, that I could do anything with my life, and I know he meant well but it wasn't true, none of it was true. I mean, you can't do anything you want, you can't have everything. I suppose that was what he wanted for me and I'm not saying he wasn't genuine, that he didn't mean what he said, because he did. But that doesn't make it true, does it?
But I believed those things, I really did, and how could I not believe him, when that's what you're told all your life, when you're growing up. And I know he wanted the best for me, but surely he must have known that things don't turn out like that and life isn't perfect, not for anyone. He must have known that. I mean, look at him and his life, stuck on that farm with my old bitch of a mother. Having to live with her every day. And so why would he assume that things would turn out so well for me, so much better for me, and not just better than his life, but better than anyone's life. Because no one has it that easy, the way my life was supposed to be, nobody has that. I mean, why should it all be so great for me? Just because I'm his daughter, because that's what he wanted for me. It's not what happens in life. It just doesn't happen. But the thing is that I still half believe it, or, no, I still believe it all, all of it, somewhere at the back of my mind it's still something I believe and something I expect out of life and so can you see, Smithy, that just makes everything harder for me. It just makes everything worse. I mean, when I think where I am now, and it is bad, my situation, that's still true, but even so, maybe I wouldn't be so unhappy if I didn't expect my life to be so much better, not just better than it is, but so much better. That everything should turn out perfectly, that I should have this perfect life. Because I still do, I still expect those things, everything my father said. Even now, it's what I expect, even though I know he was wrong and it's not going to happen and it doesn't happen to anyone, I still expect this perfect, wonderful life and I can't help it.
And so sometimes I think I can never be happy, not ever, no matter what happens. Not when I expect so much, was promised so much. But can you blame me? Because it's not my fault, it really isn't. And so it's no wonder, is it, that life's passed me by. That it's all too much for me. Because I was never prepared for it, and I'm still not and I never will be.
And maybe it's wrong of me to keep blaming my father, but I do. Because he never gave me any idea that things might go wrong in life, like they have, or even not so bad as they are, but just that life is always going to be a struggle and it's hard, it's hard for everyone. But at least I know that now, at least now I understand things better, I mean, how things really are, not like back then, when I was at school. At least I'm not like that anymore. And as I said, I'd like to think I'm a better person, because at least now, I mean after all these years, at least I do feel bad about it, about then, the way I was then and I really do. I wake up in the middle of the night remembering things I did or said and I just feel terrible. Because when I look back I can't believe I was that person. And I'm glad I'm not, not anymore.
So I suppose at least, at the very least, I've changed that much. I've changed enough to be able to see things differently, more clearly, and I suppose that it's only because of where I am now, now that I've been dragged through the mud, everything that's happened. I suppose now I'm looking at things from the other side. Like I've seen things from both sides. And I don't know how many people have that happen to them in their lives, but it has happened to me and maybe that's a good thing, maybe that's the one good thing that's come out of all this mess, out of my life, what's become of my life. And, I mean, for me, not for anyone else, just for me, to know, just to know it. Because now, with things like they are, I suppose at least I do think more about what I'm like as a person and I'm glad that I'm not like I was, that I have changed, I mean, just being able to see things differently, that's changed me, just in itself. And it's not like it's anything real, it's not going to have any actual effect on anything, how things are, but just for me, just something that I can look at and I can say, yes, at least I'm different now, at least I've changed, in myself. To have known what it's like, to have seen both sides.
And it's only now that I keep thinking about this guy Julian, who was in love with me, back then, when I was at school. And I don't know why I keep thinking about him. I'll be at home, and my mind wanders and I find myself thinking about Julian, about then and about now, what he might be doing now, what he would be like now. And I really don't know what it is that makes me think about him all the time, I mean, of all people. Because if I treated anyone badly when I was at school it was Julian. I suppose it's because he was in love with me, or thought he was, as much as you can be at that age, so I suppose that's it and maybe it's guilt, the reason I think about him now, and, yes, it is guilt, partly, because I do feel guilty, I feel terrible, the way I treated him. But I can't help thinking that maybe it's something more than that.