I Wonder (Uncensored nor Unmasked With Pretty Words)

I wonder in what moment I got so accustomed to be treated like crap by men. I got that accustomed that now when someone shows me real appreciation I freak out, because for 20 years this is the first time that someone does that. I wonder but I know something...
I grew up not being loved, and knowing that the first person in my life, the one that was supposed to be by my side on my first moments, decided to give me away like a fucking gift or worse, an object. I always ask myself why people like her have to have kids, even though that question, if not asked, would take out the possibility that I would be in this world today, but I don't care, because even thought I am in this world... I feel so fucking incomplete, so maybe that's why I always attach myself to some kind of asshole, because I never knew what was to be loved in the first place, and now I am like a dog raised by a mistreating owner. A dog that now, needs time to accept love. This dog needs time to get accustomed to love, and be loved, and learn not to bite his new owner's hands.
There was a time that I went to my doctor, and when he asked me if I ever considered the possibility of killing myself. I felt like the world had fallen above me, cause I did, and I didn't want to ask that question. I ended up crying like a baby, crying and explaining my sorrows to my doctor, something that, when I was kid, innocent, stupid and forgiving, I would have never thought that I would be doing. What I did not say to my doctor was, that when I was 14 years old, I took my grandmother's pills wanting to die, but the stupid pills didn't kill me, they just made me vomit for a day and half of the other, and the only thing my DEAR grandma told me was, that I had to buy her a new bottle of pills cause she was aching. I remember me thinking about what a fucking bitch she was, she did not have enough with hitting me and telling me I was a bitch all my childhood, making me feel like if being adopted was my fucking fault. She also had to make me feel like she would have been so fucking happy If I would have died. I ended up going to a stupid Christian church to please her when I was 15 and I spent 2 years of my life trying to convince myself that GOD was real. What a fucking joke. Cause if he really existed, he would not permit that me and my older sister who is unfortunately the daughter of the crazy bitch who decided to give me away when I was born, would have had a better life. She wouldn't have been screwed up by men, would have been happy and not raped when she was just a kid by her neighbor. Yes, I know what a Christian would say about it:"GOD" exists, the problem it's that people don't look for him. Excuse me? Do you know how many times my sister prayed to that great GOD and her life never ever improved. She had to face the same destiny as the bitch who gave us away, had to depend of selling her body for only 150 pesos which would be less than 5 dollars, so that she could eat, had 5 kids from different men and she couldn't even keep her kids because she couldn't raise them with the poverty she was submerged in.
I guess my life was slightly better apart from the psycho mistreat and the hitting from my dearest grandmother which was apparently so happy that I was brought to this family or the screams and insults from my druggie uncle which used to tell me to get out of the house, to find a husband and move.
2 Years later I still frustrated with all the fucking words that I had to hear for 17 years of my life. I don't even know how I could get away from that HELL alive. Yes, I know that other people have had worse situations, but that doesn't change my past and that doesn't changes the fact that since I was never loved from the beginning. its so fucking weird when somebody comes in peace to offer me his love. I can still get rid of the thinking, even thought it's hard. I don't remember since when exactly I decided to put myself on medication for my depression and my anxiety, and sometimes I can't see when I will spend more than a month without having a mental breakdown. I can't see the bright-side of everything that happened to me. I am not stronger than anyone who didn't go by the same. I am weaker. What I want, it's to finally accept the love that other people offer me, because if I can't do that, that means that all that my dear grandmother and my uncle, and all the boys from before, had told me was real. That means that I am crazy like the person who decided to give birth to me and give me away, and that means that I rather be dead than alive but not living. I wonder how I can learn to accept the love, that's all that I wonder.