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❝ I STILL REMEMBER THE THIRD OF DECEMBER, ME IN YOUR SWEATER! ❞
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ♡︎♡︎♡︎ DESPITE BEING SOMEONE that was born in a family filled with people that had fierce personalities and wild expressions, people often see me as reserved, timid, and soft. I was always easily knocked over, someone that you could push around and wouldn't say a word about it, and very, very, very shy.
But I was never a crybaby. I never cried, or moaned, or whined about being easily pushed around. In fact, even though I have skin softer than tissue, it was far from being soluble. I'm physically and emotionally incapable of feeling pain. In fact, I've never felt pain at all.
Not when I absentmindedly picked at my skin when I was seven years old and started bleeding tremendously. Not when I was stabbed by someone that hated my guts and I apparently had to get surgery because he stabbed an internal organ. Not when I was pushed onto incoming traffic and a car hit me then I fell unconscious. Not when my mother broke my fingers because I was a disobedient child and had touched her phone when I was ten.
Being emotional or feeling emotions was not my forte as well. Not once have I felt something, even if I should. Even if it was small.
Even when I saw my father take his own life right in front of me on my eighth birthday. Even when my mother had said so many things to me that not even a normal child could fathom. Even when I was bullied relentlessly for being different, for feeling nothing. Even when I discovered so many times that people were talking about me behind my back, saying things that could make practically anyone fall to their knees and cry.
Not once have I ever felt the need to come home, close the door behind me with a saddened expression, and cry to my pillow. I don't even remember a time where I smiled, or got angry, or felt anxious, or frustrated.
My body and heart felt void but my mind always raced with thoughts. It consumed me day and night until I was numb. What remains would be the deafening ringing in my ears that would carry on until I fell asleep.
To be honest, being incapable of feeling pain was always an advantage for me. I never had to feel what my mother would describe as something pulling at your stomach and heart, forcing you to breathe heavily as your hands begin to shake. She always described heartbreak like that.
But then again, my greatest disadvantage was never being able to feel happiness. I would never feel the warmth in my body, slowly or quickly engulfing me like a gentle embrace from the person I love. I would never know what a hug feels like, my mother never did that to me, and so did my father. How would he even do that when he's dead?
But even so, even after so many years, I thought I finally felt something. I felt it when I met him.
He made me feel so many things that for those specific moments, I believed I was cured of my congenital insensitivity to pain.
I thought I was in love.
Such a silly thing, isn't it? A boy that can't feel pain suddenly feeling love? What a joke. An awful joke.
And I thought he loved me too.
And maybe I am the joke. Maybe that's why everyone is cruelly laughing at me. Maybe that's why I never felt emotions.
Maybe that's why I was never meant to love or be loved.
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