What is an ideal life?
Many long for extravagance and riches. Others would be happy to live a simple and content existence. This is the “norm” and what any sane individual would want. However, there are those out there who just cannot live in comfort. No, it is not common and it may not be socially acceptable, but not every person can maintain a “normal” human life.
When I was a child, I would look above and see the endlessness of the skies above me and would allow myself to be absorbed in the beauty of the bold blue. Every life was significant and the world was an amazing place. Despite the trials life would throw my way, I was driven to make the world a better place. However, that optimism only extends so far and eventually, it was beaten down. That innocence died early on and the day it did, the blue turned into a dull gray. Colors disappeared from my existence and I saw the world for what is was: a waste. The issue was, I had come to this conclusion before I turned the age of ten.
How do you react to a child who has such a bleak view on the world? Is it not horrifying when such a young person is all to familiar with the term “suicide”? It was unclear whether I was perceptive or they were terrible at hiding their expressions, but I felt alienated. My friends could not understand why I would break down and that pit that was growing inside of me. How could they? We were only children, after all. They did not bear witness to the hushed fist fights from their parents. They never felt the terror as a knife pierced through their bedroom door, mere inches from their face by someone they loved most dearly who had become deranged. No, they never felt the overwhelming fear as they realized they heard things no one else did as they grew older and knew what it would become.
_No one loves you. _
As the years progressed, I did what I could to end the pain and to feel “normal”. Prescription or recreational, neither took the edge off. Counselors spoke the same drivel and always made it clear to my parents the things in my mind were far from usual, so I opted to take the silent treatment from then on. I was sick of being a show for these people, I was tired of this existence.
Life is pointless.
With no one to take his rage out on, my father turned to me. Not to give in to the picture he painted of me, I bit my lip and took it: scars. When he saw the outcome, he called me crazy and threatened to lock me away: screams. When my previous recklessness brought a life unexpected: tears. When a fatal fight led to a lost innocent soul: madness.
Fuck this world.
Sleep had become a rare occurrence and I lie there in bed for the bulk of my time. I stared at the ceiling, headphones as loud as they could go to shut out the voices in my head. At a certain point, I could no longer hear the music and it only brought silence. For so long, I was terrified to listen. The voice and its delusions made me into a freak. I hated it for that, but more than anything, it deeply scared me because the things is said began to make sense.
There’s no one in this world you can trust.
Life was a rain cloud, that was just the way it was. There may have been a sunny day or two somewhere in between, but those days were far and few. While others would look forward to the sunshine, I did the only thing I could. I learned to love the rain. The cool droplets dripped upon me. I gazed eagerly into the dull gray sky above and soaked it in.
Why do you exist?
Circumstances only worsened and the trials life were my way became harder. At times, it was unbearable and I fell to the weight. I realized there was no point in pretending to be someone I was not, so I pushed everyone away and shattered that plastered smile on my face. I gave into the whims and learned to love it.
You deserve nothing but pain and suffering.
At some point, things turned on their head. Perhaps it was my way of coping, but I became someone I did not recognize. To this day, I wonder if that is what I truly look like.
Weakling.
Before I lost my humanity, I knew what it was leading to and I desperately wanted to end things before it was too late. I tried, again and again and again and again and again and again and again and aga…
I cursed the gods, for this amazing and horrific curse. No matter my efforts, I unable to end it.
Indulge.
If someone threatened me, I would simply laugh. No longer did I fear pain, I craved it. Blood spilled was a beautiful sight and one I regularly longed to see. I hungered for more and indulged on it much, I had become a glutton. My sanity wasted away and I did not know what I had become.
More.
Scars covered my body from head to toe. I wore them proudly. My father called me crazy. My mother wept for her broken child. Others saw me irredeemable. I just smiled. This was who I was and though it did not fit the social “norm”, it was me.
They’ll never understand. No one will.
There was no saving me. I knew this and despite those who offered to help, I refused. Despite what people thought, I did not see myself as broken. I did not want happiness, it made me uncomfortable. I wanted to see the world burn.
Give in.
Then I met someone with the same dead eyes as I and the same desires. In hopes to find one such as myself, we became acquainted and quickly became destructive duo. He, unable to fully process his life issues, used me as he saw fit, which only fed into the toxicity I yearned for.
Give in.
We were not happy, we were indulging in the weaknesses of the other person. We shared many of the same interests and it was the best high I had experienced. My lip quivered in excitement. I was not suffering, I was living.
Just give in.
There came a day when someone else pulled me from that madness. Though I had pushed everyone away, she stayed determined and even when I showed my unstable and unpredictable side, while others did, she did not falter. She did not understand it, but she accepted it.
She will never understand you. Don’t be fooled.
I continued my relations with the boy, soaking it all in, but there came a point where we strayed. Despite all the cruel things he did to me, he showed a side very unbecoming.
How disappointing: he’s a weakling.
With no one to feed into my desires, the girl crept under my skin and attempted to show me the light once more.
You’re setting yourself up for disappointment.
It hurt. It hurt so bad. If I was pulled from this void, what then?
She will never understand you and one day, you’re going to scare her off.
I don’t care. It’s my choice.
I was addicted, obsessed with my lifestyle. I hated the world and wanted to see people drown slowly in a river of their own sins. Slowly but surely, however, I was pulled out of the darkness and for the first time in forever, I was blinded by the infinite blue mass up above.
Yes, I had chosen a path of happiness, a concept that had terrified me. It was so feeble, so uncertain. I could have remained with the boy, and had someone who could understand me, even if just a bit, but I had made my choice. Hand in hand, we walked with an umbrella on those gloomy days, setting our sights on a clear spring morning.
No one…
I will never be “normal” and while I ultimately accept this, it can be difficult to live with other people. There are days it gets significantly worse and I can feel the past clawing at my feet.
No one will ever understand you.
It is trying to pull me back into that void.
Just give in.
Why am I bleeding…?
She doesn’t understand.
She doesn’t understand…
Just give in.
There are times I feel that sadistic smile start to creep upon my lips and it horrifies me. I have worked to become someone I want to be, but sometimes I cannot help but to give in. I never wanted to be saved.
It’s better this way.
When I am uncertain whether I can hold it back, I try to see if the curse has been broken, but always, to no avail.
It’s so cruel.
You’re unraveling.
There are better days than others, but I’m coming undone. Will I end up giving in to this obsession in the end?
this time as well.