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| Watching the natural beauty alone all by myself. |
Maybe am not more mature than most
adults; nor smarter than most adults. But, I don’t want this. I mean this to
mean that I don’t want to carry this burden. I’m collapsing under my
insecurity, crushed by my past, my present, and my future. For I know what lies
ahead in this life: sorrow, misery, grief. No one knows this more than I,
though people claim I’m too young to fully grasp what life has to offer. So
wrong they are. I have life pinned down in its fetal position, screaming its
ugly truths to me in terror. I soak it all in. I learn from it. I get depressed
from it. Then I stick my head up high and act like nothing bothers me. I am a
lion with a soft heart.
It wasn’t until a few months ago that
reality hit me like a brick on glass. I shattered, then immediately tried to
put myself back together. I spent long nights staring at my ceiling, reflecting
on my past. I realized my life is a wreck. It’s depressing to look in a mirror
and literally jump back at whose staring back at you, to realize you’ve been
living behind a wall of insecurity. And now that wall has come down, exposing
me to the world. I wasn’t ready yet. I was still a youth caught up in these
fanciful dreams only. However, I really was never a young boy. I was robbed of
it.
I think that all of my problems started
since my childhood, when my ignorance led to my downfall. I was young and knew
absolutely nothing about sex. I had no idea where babies came from or that it’s
wrong for an adult to touch another adult like that. I did not know that this
until I was growing up. Not before my teenage & the reproduction lessons
which was taught to me by School. I went through the path almost annually until
then.
The consequences of knowing that
someone molested me was far too dire than I knew up until now. I still felt
“normal”, like nothing was wrong. However, it had a subconscious effect on me.
I cannot have close contact with anyone: girls, friends, and family. I don’t
think I have ever really hugged my mother. I have never kissed
a girl even though I had a girl friend for few days. I’ve never really had a
female or a male friend in the way it’s meant to be called as a “friendship”. I
get furious when in the way sometimes people jokes with me. I am enraged when
my dad & mom sarcastically tell me that I’m stupid. Maybe not only them
sometimes maybe it’s most of my family members. And lastly and most
drastically, it has warped my personality & attitude.
I don’t like close contact because of
the subconscious fear that they will touch me. Unless this has happened to you,
which I pray it never did, you could never understand it. As for hugging my
mom, of course I’ve given her the meaningless good hug, but never a true hug
where you feel like no one can harm you while you are in their arms. The only
time I had a hug with my dad was when I was 11 years. One night he came up to
my room as I was suffering from a fever, I was still awake, and he hugged me. I
knew. I don’t know how, but I knew. I jumped into his arms, tears rolling down
my face. He had his orders. The worst kind: executive. It may only last a
moment, and hour, an afternoon. But that doesn’t diminish its value. Because we
are left with memories that we treasure for the rest of our lives.” It still did
not help that I didn’t have a positive male role model while he was gone. I was
too high on sugar to care why, so I left it alone. I nearly tackled him trying
to hug him. Tears roll down my face. That was my last “real” hug.
When you mix being molested and having
your own self taken away from you, I realize that some of you reading this
never grew up with a dad and think that I’m lucky that I still have one, but if
you take a lollypop away from a baby, it’s going to cry, but if it never had
the lollypop before, it doesn’t know what it is missing. Maybe now some of the
readers of this article might get mean of my word. The music may stop now and
then, but the strings remain forever. I tried to raise myself. I tried to be
independent, to blend in with society. It didn’t work. Maybe I’m a failure at
parenting myself. I need a mother that knows me. I need a dad who doesn’t
accuse me of being me. A family which listens to me when I tell them the real
me. I don’t love qualities, I love persons; sometimes by reason of their
defects as well as of their qualities. I know and feel reflecting to my past
and childhood what will happen to me within this. I know what I will become; I
will finally feel like I’m actually blending in, like I actually have something
in common with someone. Sometimes I feel like curling and hiding under the
covers. From what? From my past. From my insecurities. I won’t say that I have
nothing to live for or I have no one to live for. I won’t decide that I have
only a brain, open eyes, and a callus heart. Where every sense is heightened,
every emotion is magnified, our everyday reality is shattered. Surely I still
have the power to choose within myself. I still have my hopes and dreams with
the options that life owes me. For me, it’s worth living with reflecting to my
above expressed stories. I’ll never give up living my life with those
ingredients which life has left on my side.
