Release

Anguish (March 18th - 2022)

I keep writing,
and I keep deleting everything that I had written.
No matter how much I write, and narrow down the feeling, I'm never able to put it into words, as it's beyond linguistics and verbal comprehension.
I get so angry at myself for feeling so damn much.
Many of us are suffering in silence.
The most suffering is done in silence.
Let me speak to all parents.
Take this job so fucking seriously,
even if your life is shit,
BE A GOOD PARENT.
Mine didn't,
and the suffering that came with it echos and shakes in who I am today,
and to be placed with abusers during my childhood instead.
The lonesome suffering.
To be brought into this hell,
without love, without guidance.
One cannot possibly sit in silence forever.
Within this silence a rage storming began to brew.
An untamed rage.
A rage that has the potential to destroy lives.
There isn't a, "person" I can go to,
for love, and if there is,
I don't trust it to last.
It flakes away with the rest of the effortless paper people.

I wake up alone,
I go to sleep alone,
I've lived this life alone.
Fucking empty.
I don't blame them though,
I know the power of this debilitating suffering and frustration.
I remember I would have these intense bursts of anger,
conflicted in my environment
I was uncontrollably angry,
at the life I was seemingly forced to live.
Death, was not an option.
I was psychologically tortured growing up,
the endless screaming and violence that my environment held, it's all that I remember.
The manipulation, the lies, the pain that felt like wires being tugged beneath my skin,
and the feeling of being trapped only led me to wax and wane with calmness and sudden explosiveness,
and to accept that "this is life".
I had to learn to surrender, I had to die, to expel the negativity that flooded my every waking moment.
With my fists clenched to the floor, shaking, and screaming all the life out of me with one single exhale. Tears covered my entire face of an often lifeless walk of shame.
I was around 10 years of age when I began to realize how messed up my environment was, finally I gained some consciousness.
I never wanted to be a, "bad kid".
I wasn't even misbehaved,
as I tried to be so good to avoid any further harassment.
I only wanted peace,
and to stop feeling this way,
but they kept coming for me.
I'm lucky that I've always been so self aware.
I told myself to breathe,
and that I was only hurting myself and that's what they wanted.
They wanted me to give in.
Don't let them win.
Don't let them win.
Don't let them win.
As I'd only obliterate my fists on whatever surface I'd punch on.
To punch until I saw blood on my knuckles would suffice for the anger that needed to be released.
I would catch myself entangled with rage, just as they were.
I'm lucky to have known that what was devouring me, was what devoured them entirely to the point of no return.
Maybe they have never been self aware, and they are simply here to consume and hurt others.
To realize now,
how smart of kid I was,
to not give in to the darkness as it did to them.
I was such a good kid,
I never had temper tantrums, I was so obedient, and slowly grew into rebellion of my quick realization of the life I was living.
Everything I did,
was for a reason,
and that reason was feeling.
Though, all my energy was spent on holding back my rage, and I was often debilitated with suffocating emotions of intense sadness and helplessness.
For years,
and even now I feel the consequences of living that way for a decade of my life.
Don't be like them.
Don't be like them.
Don't be like them.
I told myself.
The amount of times I would hold in my boiling emotions, until I couldn't see beyond my endless stream of tears, all I had were deadly thoughts, holding onto my physical composure,
is countless.
It took years of practice to calm myself,
to where I had to remove all self that I had,
I had to be selfless to cope in that environment,
to not feel alive, to not feel happiness, to be empty. To lose all face and accept defeat was the only way. One only learns after thousands of attempts, that you cannot defeat a true narcissist. No matter how many times you're right, you're always wrong. No matter how many times you're the oppressed, you're actually the oppressor.
It would only create more anger in my heart and the plot of their demise would thicken, to allow them to win, to feed their egos and allow them to keep abusing me. That's all I was doing, enabling them, but saving my own expense, to create the illusion of, "I'm not them." Apparently they have been doing this longer than I've even been alive. In recent times; and thank goodness, their own child finally took revenge into their own hands, and saved me the bloodshed I imagined when I was a kid. Their kin, now almost 50 years of age. A hero to my child self.
To defeat monsters, you need to become even more monstrous, I told myself.
The evil that devoured my thoughts,
the hundreds of thoughts that tempted me as a kid. To nod my head, and give my abusers an illusion of my defeat. Thanking my past self, for saving what my future self could have become. My child self saved me.
Imagine that,
being saved by a child who only knew of monsters.
Instead of becoming a monster with enraging energy, you're a fish out of water without breath trying to swim without water for the rest of its life. Always searching, but never finding, because what you desire never existed, and never will exist. The life of an abandoned child.
You learn to resent these people,
to be nothing like them,
I hated them,
I hated everything,
but to hate is to give in to who they are,
and thinking of it now,
I'm able to empathize with this hate once again.
The kind of hate, that consumes all rationality.
To be just like them,
I can understand it.
But, they don't see the difference.
Love is ageless and timeless, and to ask others of it, only feels as if I'm a burden.
I'm too proud to be a burden, so I suffer alone.
I've suffered alone for a quarter of my life, maybe a third, maybe more.
I wanted to be loved,
but I don't even know what that feels like.
I don't even know what it means to be loved,
that every time I've had a drop of it,
I lose it.
To only realize what I had lost,
once it's gone,
the regret, the self hatred continues,
and the cycle repeats itself,
over,
and over,
and over again.
I need to break this cycle.
I want to be a good person,
a good parent,
to be someone that I needed when I was a kid.

To ask why, and never be satisfied with the answers you receive, as none of the answers have a cure to the emptiness one will feel for the rest of their lives.

Broken people, don't want to be wanted, for being broken.

They don't want to be helped for their pain, but loved for whatever strength they could find within the greatest darkness.

Don't pity me.
I'm one of millions of lost children.
The only and most important thing you can do,
is to be the best parents you can possibly be.
Don't live in illusion,
listen to them,
learn from them,
ask them questions,
feed their curiosities,
and show them what a wonderful life this could be, with family, so they don't end up feeling like me.