Finding myself.A Story by thearsonist
A youth, unsure of life, lost....and alone. Not sure who to depend on...he tells us his side of his story & how he views everything.
Is there anyone that I can trust?
Someone, who won't make fun of me?
Who won't make of my past?
I slammed the door to my apartment and threw myself onto the couch I bought the other day. It smelled like plastic. Have you ever listened to Katy Perry's Firework?
"Do you ever feel like a plastic bag?
"Drifting through the wind, wanting to start again?"
Not to say I want to feel literally as a plastic bag but I do want to start again. Start fresh, escape from everyone, escape my past....
I logged on to Facebook and see all my 'friends' happy statuses, relationships, outings, new friends....
Nobody asked about me. Nobody asked how I was doing. Nobody asked if I am alright or not. Nobody asked about me. No one. What am I to them? When these are the people who run to me for help? I spent money and time to assist these people. Where was everyone when I needed help? Where was everyone when I needed someone to talk to?
"Can't talk to you now man, super busy."
"Aww...sorry...but I'm really busy right now."
Those are the usual answers I get.
"Go get help."
That was once and it hurt so bad. Am I going crazy? I doubt. I just needed someone to talk to. Sure, anyone is fine. but what I learnt, do not open up to just anyone. It's either they're curious or pretend to look like they are. And in my book, people who pretended to care is lower than people who don't care.
I walked lazily to my room and stopped at the study table. I picked up a picture of a class photo. Everyone was all smiles and making goofy poses -it was a freestyle pose shoot- while I remained seated, looking rigid, poised but still I smiled. My long fringe covered half of my left eye, I still looked nice nonetheless.
Did you hear about Nathan?
Have you seen his scars?
Dude he's whack.
You think he do drugs?
Nah man, I think he's just on crack.
No, he's Satanic. Look at his arms. Must've been at some whack ritual last night.
Everyone looked at me as I walked past the hallway. People glanced, looking at me from top to bottom...as if I am the dirtiest person alive. I pulled my sleeves but it seemed like everyone was looking as I did so. I approached my locker and as I was thinking of the locker combination...
"Hey Nathan, what's this I hear about you being in a cult?"
"So like what, you have super powers now?"
"Whatever slit cutter. Geez what a freak."
That was Miller. He and his gang then left, laughing and mocking me. The bell rang. It's time for Algebra 2.
Growing up as an only child, Mom and Dad were rarely at home. And if they were, they would argue until morning and as I grew up to be a teenager, after they fight, somehow, one of them would put the blame on me. Saying if I wasn't born, maybe they'll separate easier, no papers, no custody rights because clearly they said it was better if I was not born.
As a young adolescence growing up, what your parents say, sticks into your head. This went on for years. This mental torture...the feeling where you feel you are a burden. The feeling where what you say doesn't matter. You carry this mindset as you grow older.
I admit, I became a loner because of this. I am very awkward with people. I tried making friends. But because I don't speak much, as I am more of a listener, people tend to leave me out and use me only when they need help.
I fell into depression and became insomniac. Stayed up, thinking and listening to the yells and screams of my parents.
On occasion where I snapped, I really felt useless. And yes, I used to cut myself. Several times. I do have thoughts on suicide. The mental torture at home, the bullying in school because I am a quiet person therefore I get called names such as freak and a pervert because I am awkward.
The pain I felt as the blade cut into my skin, it tingled at first but it's the kind of pain that I felt like....I deserved it. Was this the pain of being neglected that I deserve? Was this pain worth it? Why am I doing this again?
I have no idea. I snapped.
Am I crazy?
I sat on my bed and clenched my fists. I stopped cutting myself last year. The suicidal thoughts still linger around, despite locked in my very own Pandora Box, it still calls me making me wanting to open the box and just let go of myself.
I pulled my sleeves and looked at my scars. As if the scars are greeting me, reminding me of my past, reminding me of what I did and giving me ideas of what should I be doing.
I stopped because I knew this was wrong. The minute I stopped, I packed my bags and left the house. With the money I have with my part time job working in a convenience store, I moved to a new apartment and vowed to start fresh. I am going through self therapy by being alone to just...think about myself and talk to myself. Sounds weird, but so far so good. Except....people still make fun of me and use me. Why am I being so nice to people?
Tomorrow's another day to face these people in school. Another day to ignore the Pandora Box. I checked my phone. My parents hadn't call me or even bother to look for me yet.
Wish me luck.
© 2010 thearsonist
About18. trying to find ways to express myself without being judged & ridiculed. I just finished my exams and now waiting for my results. I wish to major in Geology or Marine Science. Writing is one way .. more..
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