The Untold Record

Prologue

I don’t remember much from my childhood. Some say it might be from all of the things I had to go through as a child. In all honesty, I think they may be right about it. No matter where I go or whom I’m close to it seems like tragedies follow me everywhere I go. No matter what I do, nothing good lasts forever. People say that I need to see the good in things but I find that very hard to do. It’s hard to see the good in things and people when everything that I was told about the real world and them was a lie. You probably think that I’m overreacting and am being ‘ungrateful’ but how would you know? How would you know what's going on inside my head? How would you know about the things I've been through? What I had to witness?

You’re not my doctor nor my therapist so how could you tell me what’s wrong with me? I can give you an answer to that, it's a quite simple one. You can't tell me what's wrong with me. I don’t expect anyone to tell me what’s wrong with me really, it’s not like you would be able to help me anyway. I don’t want your sympathy or your pity. Nor do I want you to feel sorry for me. I am far too gone for anyone to help me and came to an acceptance that no one will be able to help me. But then again there’s a part of me that wants to get help and open up around the people I trust. This forever internal battle with myself drains my body mentally every single day. Sometimes I wonder how I am still alive and what the purpose of me living truly for.

I’m only writing this to some who clear my mind to give us a little peace and quiet for once. I don’t expect anyone to see this let alone read it. But if anyone does read this then maybe you’ll use it as an advantage to get help and not wait until it's too late. Use my experience as a way to know that if you can’t tell anyone your problems then you can always write in a little journal on your phone, computer, or laptop. Anything to get rid of feeling ennui for the rest of your life. But who am I to tell you what to do? If anything I do not have any room to talk nor try to be your therapist. I am nothing but a mere stranger to all of you. A stranger that you don’t know anything about or why I am writing this.

Well, I guess I’ll have to tell you the sad tragedies that happened to me throughout my childhood and up until now. And the sick intrusive thoughts that I have on a daily basis. At this point I would rather share for a bunch of strangers to read so I don’t slowly lose my mind and have to keep so much buried deep down. And being trapped inside of my own mind and having others to suffer with me.

Oh, the pain I have suffered for years almost feels normal to me. So normal that pain is the only thing that can stop me from being overwhelmed with emotions, that's something I do not know how to deal with. Inflicting pain to myself has become an addiction that I'm not proud of admitting. Yet the pain puts me at ease and helps numb the emotions. The true emotions I forever keep hidden until I finally break.

Though I was never always like this, I was once an adventurous, happy, and thriving child. A child that always laughs and makes ours laugh as well. A sweet innocent child that was too pure for the dark world filled with hate.

But I guess tragedies are what build up my character and keep my humor blazing like a roaring fire.