Childhood Tragedy

I never planned to publish this. I just need to write. This is my heart. This is my Love. This is my Soul. This is my Me. This is Me. I am me. This is me.


2. People

I remember so vividly. Everything I thought and said that day. The day I wish I’d died. Truth be told, I don’t remember what day it was, or even what year. However, to this day, I still remember the thought that went through my head, which changed my life forever. The day I wasn’t a kid anymore. The day I chose to no longer be naïve, to no longer be a child of purity and unbreakable happiness. The day I wish I’d died, because I would’ve rather died than live through the hell that I live in now. The mental torture I deal to myself, and to all those around me without them even realizing. I taught myself to rip out the child and replace it with the cold, heartless, uncaring soul that is now myself. I remember the day I changed forever. The day I wish I’d died.


“Normal.” That’s what people call themselves, but guess what they call people like me? They call us freaks. They call us all the names that no one chooses to hear. The let us sit there and cry. They never think of us as human beings. “They’re freaks. What does it matter what happens to them?” That’s their excuse. That’s what parents use to assure their kids that the torture they deal on a daily basis is ok. “Ignore them.” “Don’t listen to them.” “Walk away.” “I can’t help you.” That’s what our parents, our teachers, our friends, and even our therapists tell us to try to make us feel better about ourselves. They don’t realize that they just make it worse. No one ever sees our pain. No one ever notices the horror and excruciation that we live with every day. The things that we have to sit there and take because we don’t know how to help ourselves. Because we don’t know what to do except sit there and cry. And I hope to God that someone out there sees our suffering and tries to help us, since we can’t even help ourselves.


The horrible people that surrounded me, taught me a lesson that I will never forget. That lesson was this: Trust no one. Don’t let anyone try to love you, for all they will do is hurt you. That what I had to learn the hard way. I am afraid of letting people love me, of letting people care for me and then turn around and treat me as if I were nothing. I had to learn the hard way that there is no one in this world that will love me, and never hurt me. I can’t trust anyone now, not even the people that raised me. I have no one. I know no one. I love no one. That is my life now. I am safe if I scare everyone away and keep to myself, because at least then no one can hurt me. At least then, no one can love me. In the moment I realized what was happening to me, I decided to never let anyone hurt me again. So, that’s what I did, and now all I have is myself. It’s much easier to live when everyone else leaves you alone.


I have problems, and the worst part is; I can’t fix these problems. The problems that I have can't be fixed by simply giving me some anti-depressants or something like that. They developed over such a long period of time, that I cannot fix them on my own anymore, but neither can a therapist or Psychiatrist. I cannot be helped. I am such a hopeless cause that it surprises even me. I’ve lived in this world for only 14 years, and yet, it feels like it’s been centuries because of all the pain I’ve lived with and put myself through. I let myself down day after day wondering when I would get the courage to try to be happy. I can’t even look at myself in the mirror without thinking of all the things I’ve done that I regret. Centuries have gone by, and still nothing had changed.


I’m an atheist. The reason for that used to be simple. I couldn’t believe in something I couldn’t see. So I went on to never believe in love either. Now, though, it’s a little different. When I was little I was a realist and thought that if I couldn’t see it it wasn’t real, but then my parents started to take me to church every Sunday and I thought that maybe he could be real after all.  However, when i prayed for help and for love and found no answer, I gave up on that and decided to stick to my true beliefs and only believe in what can be proven. I’m still an atheist today for the same reason. I can only believe in what is prove. Which is why the only thing I can believe in now is pain. That is all I know that can be proven. So, that is all I have as well. That is all i live with each and everyday now. But still, it’s not all bad. At least now the only pain I have is mental and emotional. My physical body became accustomed to constantly being in pain.


I hate pain. Pain is the worst thing in the world for humanity. It’s even worse than war. Pain is worse than love. Pain is worse than hate. Pain is being hated. Pain is not being loved. Pain isn’t when you get a paper-cut. It’s not when someone tells you you’re fat. Pain is when someone says, “No. I can’t love you.” Pain is when someone tells you to get over it as if it was your best friend making fun of you. Pain is nothing but horror, and sadness, and torture. Pain isn’t when the person you wanted to go to prom with tells you they already have a date. Pain is when they tell you that they would rather go alone than go with you. Pain is rejection. Pain is loveless. Pain is cruel. Pain is suffering. Pain is worse than death itself. There is nothing in this world worse than pain, for there is nothing worse in this world than not having someone that loves you.


When I was young, I was ignorant and naive. I didn’t understand why people would cry. I didn’t understand why my mother and father fought on a regular basis. I always sat there and wondered why. I never understood that people are broken. I didn’t know then that I would feel that pain more than most. I loved my life when I was little. I hate my life now. I wish that all this pain and suffering would end. I wish someone would hear all of our cries and pleas for it to end. When I was little, I never understood. Now, I wish I didn’t. I wish I could just make it stop.


Everyone has a friend that always wears black. That one friend that doesn’t talk much, and never lets you worry about them. I used to be that friend. Now, I just fake happiness so they won’t worry about me anymore. I think back and I wish they hadn’t noticed. I think if they hadn’t, it wouldn’t have hurt as much when they left me and just gave up on me. I don’t know why they did it. I don’t know what made them leave, but they did. I wish they hadn’t noticed me. It would have made it so much easier. But, as always, nothing goes the way you wish it would. No matter how much you want them to listen, but not notice so they won’t hurt you. You wish hard, and some of us even pray for it. We will do anything in our power to make it better, but it never works. No one helps us. No one thinks about us until it’s too late and they realize that there’s someone missing in class or at work.  They never think about us. It’s only ever always too late.


Do you ever wonder why people are so cruel? You see most people think that the people who torture people for hours at a time with tools and knives and such, are the ones that are sadists. They don’t realize that they are even more sadistic than anyone else in the world. The homophobes, the bullies, the terrorists. All of them. They are so much worse than we are and they don’t even realize that they deal more pain than any murderer or assassin. They don’t know. They never know until that one person that no one likes just, disappears. No one ever realizes. So, we just sit there and cry. We sit there wondering, “What did I do to deserve this?” No one ever realizes, until it’s too late.


People in this world believe that anything that is abnormal is dangerous and therefore should be destroyed. They say that since we’re so different that we’re scary, and what do people do when they’re scared? They kill. Anything that is scary is dangerous, so kill it before it kills you.No one ever understands us, they don’t see what we live with everyday. They try to make us “get help”, but all that’s doing is killing us faster. They think they can fix us. They think that we’re just like a broken fridge, once you call the “doctor” everything will be ok. Everything will be safe. They think we are the ones that hurt others, but they don’t realize what they do to us everyday. They tell us we’re not well. They tell us we’re sick. They tell us we need to be fixed. They don’t help us, they hurt us. They kill us. They think they’re helping us, but they’re making us feel worse about ourselves. It’s not us that’s the problem, it’s you. Who’s the real monster here? Where’s your God now?


I live with this girl, and I ask her everyday, “What am I doing here? What’s out there for me? Why am I here? What’s the reason for me to keep going? Why am I alive?” I never get an answer. She just looks at me, staring dead-eyed and hopelessly at me. I look at her, and I don’t see anything in her future. I look at her and I see sadness, and a broken heart wrapped in concrete again and again, maybe she hopes it won’t break again. I look at her, and I see pain, and suffering, and self-loathing. I wonder everyday what she has going for her. I wonder if she’s happy. I look at her everyday when I wake up. I see her everyday no matter where I go. I look at her and I see a life with nothing but pain in it. And when she looks back at me, I realize something. She is me. We are one-in-the-same. I look at her, and myself everyday of my life and that’s what happens. I see me.


Love. I wonder what that’s like. I don’t think I’ve ever known it. I feel that I wouldn’t understand it if I did. Not like it matters though. I can’t have love. No one can love me. It’s just not possible, it’s just not. I want it so bad. I want love, but I can’t have it. I can’t have love. I know not what it feels like to be in love. I just hope and wish that someone can teach me one day. I ask myself everyday if there’s someone out there for someone like me, but then I realize that I can’t have love, so it doesn’t matter. There’s someone close to me that I wish would love me, but I don’t think they could love me. “It’s just not possible remember?” That’s what I hear from myself when I let myself hope like that. I forget sometimes that I can’t love, nor can I be loved. Love is for those who are capable of happiness. Which is why it’s not for me.


Many people, children, teenagers, even adults understand what this feels like. Everyone’s been a victim. The things people would say. What they think is nothing, is never just that. What they believe is just some stupid name or just some joke, is never that. No one could ever understand that, at least not them. They always say to just, “Get over it.” They don’t know. How could they. No one knows how you feel. No one knows the pain you live in. They can’t read your mind. They can only know if you tell them. I get it though. You try don’t you? It’s not your fault. You cry out to them everyday. They just can’t hear you. They never hear you. I know. I know how that feels. I know what it’s like. We cry out to them everyday in hopes that maybe today they’ll hear you. You think to yourself, “Maybe today will be the day. Maybe I’ll finally be heard and people will help me. Maybe today my screams will break out of the cage and fly into their home; someone’s listening ears.” Yeah. I know how that feels. I know all too well.

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