Evil, I {Slow Updates}

An Elephant's Memory (Part II)

Funny how things continued for me....

Around the time for the funeral my uncle confessed to me that my mom had an affair with him. I was okay with that because after all, he's the one who really loved my mom. It was him that told me that my mom died of an overdose of her Coumadin meds and that it was clearly a suicide. That didn't change anything.... It was still that bastard's fault, the deadbeat dipshit my mom called husband. My father's daily beatings pushed her to the brink of insanity and made her take her own life. It was just him, me and my uncle. But that didn't last long.

Due to extreme grief, my uncle jumped off his office building and landed splat on the street. I couldn't take that much death. I never shed a tear for my uncle nor for my mother, but I have been wounded so severely that, to me, death seemed to be a beautiful acquisition of true freedom. Freedom from everything. Pain, hurt, hate, anger, bitterness, abhorrence, melancholy. Everything mentioned in the former would disappear and never return again. They would never torment both my mind and psyche, not anymore. I waited four years more until I could get outta that house. My father went all MIA and was never seen again. That proved I was right. He did--He was the reason why my mother took her life. I PLAN TO MAKE HIM NOT ONLY PAY BUT ALSO SUFFER.

I'm turning eighteen in a few months. I dropped out of high school years ago, and though I dropped outta high school, Yale was still offering me the scholarship, I figured I needed the scholarship--the money--and all I need to do was to get good grades. Seems easy enough.

It was very easy for me to get high scores on exams and etcetera. But I couldn't manage to swerve my attention to anything else but revenge. I may have been in quite a fury but to kill--I don't think I could.... And at least now I don't even see him, so I should probably just leave it for now and focus on rebuilding myself .... Yeah, I shouldn't bother....

Weeks passed, and everything was perfectly fine. I had completely forgotten about every bad childhood memory--almost. But I was getting better, in fact I had a girlfriend--I know right? It seemed so impossible for me to have a girlfriend but I did. We loved each other, and after all the pain I've been through, I'm finally happy. Maybe God really did hear me.

You might be asking what's her name. Her name was Summer Hayes. She was my new light, the reason I kept on living. I had never been so fond of any girl, she reminds me of the only woman I looked up to--no, it's not my mom--it's an author/poet named Emily Dickinson. My Summer was depressing at times because of her perception of reality and her realism. She is often confused as a pessimistic narcissist--why narcissist you ask--She is perceived as a narcissistic pessimist because of the way she writes about life and death, about heaven and hell, peace and damnation. I loved how deep she was and how much of a real person she was being, she also said that she was very deep(I think you could call that as a form of narcissism). She understood everything about me--although I didn't tell her about the grudge I have against my father--but I knew she wouldn't turn away from me, in fact she told me that she would love me no matter what. I believed her.

I'm going to turn eighteen tomorrow.

I wonder what'll happen tomorrow.....