The Crime I Exploit

In Sally Tisdale's "Let Me Tell You About The Crime I Committed," the notion that we all commit morality crimes is brought up. This is about my awareness of my fault and how I exploit it.

Explained in Sallie Tisdale's Let Me Tell You About the Crime I Committed, we perform minor crimes each day. Not strictly in the legal sense but rather morality, spirituality and the sense of self worth that comes into play when we forget little things, such as thanking the man holding the door or being honest when the cashier returns too much change. Some things we're unaware of, some things that we are, yet they happen to be too habitual to break easily and immediately. I'm one of the a******s who knows about it and exploits it in every way I can.

It's not a black and white issue for me. It's the whole rainbow given to me, the entirety of the colour spectrum and I painted it black and chortled in the process. I silently thought to myself that I wasn't doing anything wrong, as if telling myself that would fool even a lie detector. Yet I knew what I was doing was wrong.

Love is an abstract concept applied in various ways due to the billions of different views. Some would turn to bondage, whips and chains to express love. Some would shower their significant other with affection and gifts. Some would consider beating love, if only due to abuse or twisted moral outlooks on life. I consider putting others' happiness above my own, even if I only select one or two people I consider deserving of any attention and affection. I haven't stated what the crime is yet, but I feel it's unforgiveable... to nobody excluding myself.

You see, every human being is programmed to believe things. The pastor down the street believes in his God's message from the Bible. The neighbour next door who believes in Mother Earth's ability to strive regardless of humankind's involvement. The co-worker who believes in the cold, calculating fact of numbers. The vicious criminal who used to go to the bank believes that what he did was fun and worth it. Things are innocent and sweet and people are free to believe in them as they wish. You can't tell a man to stop having faith in Allah. You can't tell a woman that experimenting on animals is wrong. Technically, you can... but your words having any effect is almost null. Just like people can't tell me that desperately craving attention to keep my negative emotions from gushing out is wrong.

I have a problem. I grew up anti-social, surrounded by useless teachers and critical classmates with mundane subjects in academics, being forced to partner with people I despised, yet I still did it. I still let them shout the names and baseless accusations and I decided to bear all they threw my way regardless of whether or not I would ultimately succumb to it in the future. And I did.

When I was younger, Grade 1, we had a dancing session in gym class. I had a best friend whom I partnered up with and when she tripped on her own feet (no joke), she cried and when the teacher asked, she said it was me. I tripped her. And he scolded me, and the s****y principal picked me up off the ground and stood me on a chair and screamed at me until I cried. And then I realized life can suck for no reason. And that's where it all started.

The few people who knew me, I stuck to out of desperation. Maybe a silent cry for help while still being an act. I was feigning coolness or like I didn't care. I even lied when invited out because I didn't wanna go out. I regret that now. But at the time, it seemed like it was something I could afford. I always seemed to absorb negative reinforcement more. It was more ... verifying. Life is good, I suppose. Which is why people only remember the bad things: 9/11, War on Terror... things like that stand out. To me, I didn't care, those didn't happen to me. When I was pulled aside for Parent-Teacher meetings because of my failing grades, I cared.

When my grades plummeted, it's because I didn't try. I had zero interest in school. I wanted to have a fun childhood and it was either I chose that or studied all the time. Yet  I watched as pricks and a******s sailed through life while going to parties, getting drunk and f*****g each other while I struggled even when I did try. I didn't care about the fun they had, so much as the unfairness that they still seemed loved. Principals and teachers chatted it up with them; they were the social experts. Always knowing what to say. I never did. I always wondered if people saw me scratch my nose, or if someone could read my mind. Those things were all it took to take my focus away.

That day in Grade 1 where I was scolded for something I didn't do, I stopped believing in Santa Claus and all that make-belief bullshit that adults sprinkled among my childhood like confetti and rain. I stopped believing that my parents knew everything and that life was fair. I stopped believing in trying because it seemed to get me nowhere then when I wanted it most and then school followed; the teachers failed me left and right and the vice principal saw fit to kick me out (not without bringing money into the issue). My social life was next, and now ... I observe. I stand by. A wallflower made from a childhood, while teachers accuse and assume that I'm a good-for-nothing lazy s**t who is playing games on his computer in class even if I'm done my work. I'm told by my parents that things I learn in school are wrong when I try to boast about it and they go off endlessly about how they know my teachers are wrong. So I cling to the few people who seem to give me affection.

My best friend is now in college, and she stopped talking to me at the start of Grade 12. My mom beating me is the reason I have homicidal ideation, the constant thought process of killing people for no reason. It never makes me want to but it's there; even the littlest thing can set me off. My brother beat me for no reason and I was okay. My girlfriend is in university and knowing she abuses the love I give her, I'm okay with. My principal kicked me out of BMLSS, my teachers talking to me now and then for talking in class and “ignoring” their lessons and my failing grades I'm okay with.

They verify my existence and that's all I need when it's 3 a.m. and I'm crying about my existence failure. Knowing they have to inconvenience themselves and talk to me specifically because I royally fucked up again is all I need to feel like a human. My mom, the unreasonable b***h that she is, makes me feel human. She never talks to me about things, never tries to listen to reason and like all f*****g stupid parents, pulls the “because I told you so” argument. Yet her, like my girlfriend who uses me and my bestfriend who left me behind and my teachers who scold me and fail me and my family that doesn't seem to know of my pains, are there, they verify me, and I love them. But I can't bring myself to love myself because if I verify myself, why would I need any of them? Why would they need me? This crime of self-harm to my ego, confidence and emotions, inconveniencing others just because I want them to look my way, is all I need in life. And I exploit the mother-f*****g s**t out of it with a spring in my step.

Author's Note

This was an assignment for my English class but I liked how it came out. Not intended to be a critical hit.

Reviews

I personally adored the raw truth about life and how it is for more people then we care to admit. There are many who probable sit right next to us with the same thoughts and feelings... Bravo... I like it too..

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Well paced narrative and interesting content. Entertaining and thought provoking, and I can definitely relate. Good work. :)

Also I'm not sure how new you are but welcome to writers cafe! And thanks for the badge! XD

[Arby Works]

I'm totally new. At least to this website. I mostly write fanfiction but for now, I wanted to dabble in nonfiction and post some stories I've written for my writers craft class and such.