This I believe - To overcome the impossible

This I believe - To overcome the impossible

A Story by Fuelle
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This project was one of the hardest things I ever wanted to write but I was so proud of the outcome that I wanted to share it with more people to whom this might be helpful. :)

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I remember my life before:

Care-free, happy, a child at it’s purest. I used to go outside, socialize with other kids. I used to say “Hi” to the lady who lived across from my family’s house every morning when I went to school, a big goofy smile across my face. She would, of course, say “Hi” back and sometimes, she would let me have a piece of Bavarian chocolate, which she had once told me came from her Chocolate cow farm (I had asked her how she had so much chocolate). I believed her: the care-free, happy and pure child could not imagine it to be any other way. Then, I believed in a bright future, blue pools and Bavarian chocolate before lunch.

I remember my life during:

My friend and I had been goofing as usual, skipping school to enjoy a sunny day at the High School. We were in middle school, so it was fun to hang out there, act all grown up and jump around on the construction equipment that hadn’t been removed for weeks: steel beams high up over the world, small crane’s that then seemed so huge, even excess cement tubing. The sun having tired us out around noon, we sat on a giant wooden balustrade overseeing the main courtyard - colorful dots flecked the cement there. After some time, my friend nudged me, “Hey, look, there’s a turtle fight going on. Wanna go watch?”

“What’s a turtle fight? They bring turtles to fight or something?”

“Nah, it’s two people, no weapons, no punching. Just whoever gives up first. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

He was about to get up when we heard an anguished scream and the horde of people scattering into all different directions. My heart started pounding as I watched, in shock, as a kid not much older than myself lay on the ground bleeding. My friend had already bolted from the scene, he had seen this stuff countless of times before: he’d lived in the ghetto his whole life. I, on the other hand, stood frozen, torn on whether to run or help. I wanted to help, I should have helped, I hate myself for not helping. Help him! Help him! Jesus Christ, help him! - that night I sat in the dry river bank outside of the middle school along with my friend: we didn’t comfort each other, we didn’t look at each other, we despised each other.

I remember my life after:

Plagued, scared, a teenager on his way down a dark and ever narrowing alley. I spent my days locked inside a bubble of self preservation: my bedroom was the only place I could escape from all the emotions that plagued me. I wasn’t comforted by the presence of others and hated every minute of socialization. I was motivated, but only to hate myself and everything I stood for. I would do anything to make myself more miserable: I went to school, talked to others, and destroyed my body emotionally and physically. I didn’t sleep for days, I didn’t attempt preventing injury and infection, and I didn’t seek anyone’s help. Nobody knew about the plague spreading throughout my body, nobody knew about my self-hatred, nobody knew I had stood on that balustrade and watched a kid’s life wilt away. Then, I stopped believing: in health, in humanity, in myself.

I know my life now:

After 4 and a half years of depression, after multiple attempts at suicide, after losing all faith in the goodness of humanity, after all the social anxiety, after more and more trauma, after the countless nights spent awake, after passing out from exhaustion, after multiple visits to the hospital, after rejecting all good in the world - I have arrived here. I believe in second chances, I believe in helping and giving to those who need it, I believe there is no good in the world unless you make it so, I believe that no matter the pain, no matter the torture one tries to subdue oneself with, one cannot overcome an obstacle without sharing it with others. One person cannot reconstruct a ravaged world, but with help from others, I dare say it’s possible.

© 2017 Fuelle


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Added on June 23, 2017
Last Updated on June 23, 2017
Tags: Depression, This I believe, Sad, Inspiration, Real Life

Author

Fuelle
Fuelle

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A Story by Fuelle