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Saturday,August 08,2020 03:56 AM

I hate myself

By Vision Reporter

Added 15th May 2008 03:00 AM

I am alive, but dead inside. I do not understand myself anymore.
I feel different and I am beginning to hate myself. Maybe I have always been like this, but just realising it now? Do I spoil everything that gets near me, Diary? Please do not say ‘yes’

I am alive, but dead inside. I do not understand myself anymore.
I feel different and I am beginning to hate myself. Maybe I have always been like this, but just realising it now? Do I spoil everything that gets near me, Diary? Please do not say ‘yes’

DIARY DEAREST
By Sarah Ulotu

Every Friday,Sarah Ulotu takes us through a riches-to-rags story of an orphaned teenage girl who did not know her father. Today, she reveals the girl’s diary notes from June 3, 1997


Dearest Diary,
I am alive, but dead inside. I do not understand myself anymore.
I feel different and I am beginning to hate myself. Maybe I have always been like this, but just realising it now? Do I spoil everything that gets near me, Diary? Please do not say ‘yes’

First, it was my father. My mother tells me they were in love until I was born. He started mistreating her because I was conceived accidentally and my father did not want to have children.

My father sent away my mother and now my parents do not live together anymore. If mom had married dad before conceiving me, we would still be in our house, not in this shack.

My monster aunts told mom that if she wanted to live in dad’s huge and beautiful house, she would have to take me back to my father. Because mom loved me so much, she could not take me back and besides, she did not know where he lived.

From the time dad passed away, I have considered my relatives thieves. If mom was still living in dad’s house, she would have all his shops and cars.

Bess and Bernie would also have plenty to eat and drink, so mom would have no reason to steal. We steal to survive. Because of me, Diary, my people are suffering. I am the cause of this misery. Maybe if I run away, life will get better for them.

June 05 1997
Dear Diary,
My mum and I went to steal again, but this time, I was caught. We went to a clinic and mom was taken to the checking room.

The room faced the waiting room where the money safe is. Since we did not have food for supper, and time was running out, I closed the door to the check room so that the doctor would not see me steal.

As soon as I closed the door, the doctor shouted “thief, thief”. I have never been that scared. Knots started to form in my stomach, spreading to the rest of my body and my throat dried up. My legs and knees could not support me anymore.

When I thought of my mom locked up in a room with a man, I opened the door.
The doctor grabbed me by the neck. Tears ran down my face as his huge hands nearly chocked me to death.

He took the money from my clenched fist and gave me a few slaps. Meanwhile, my mother pleaded with him to forgive me. He made me promise I would never steal again.

I hate myself

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