Rich man's Hell, Poor man's Heaven

ENTRY TWO

ENTRY TWO

I am continuing from what was started yesterday, but I want to thank you again for reading so far. I'm sure you may have comments, questions, theories. Hopefully today some are answered.

I say that I was fortunate, because I suffered many trials, and tribulations, throughout my young years and some before that, however, I was fortunate in many ways, such as having both my parents in my life and more. No, they were not together, more like weird Stockholm syndrome victims with a conflicting pursuits of ambitions. The best way to explain it is, my parents communicated like two people switching between happily married and divorcing each other, every time they were together. In one moment, they'd laugh, even lounge together, they'd produce a false display of a potential restoration of their claimed romance for each other, and in the next moment, they're throwing punches and ridiculing each other toward their children. They were never married, but you would think they acted like they were, through their back-and-forth romance and disdain displays.

Despite that, I cared about them. I feared how much they refused to restore their relationship. In my mind, at that time, "marriage" did not exist, but I thought a mom and dad were married, despite not knowing the word. I saw having kids as a physical contract of "'til death do part", even though I cannot recall ever hearing that as a child.

Moving on, I had my family, although my parents' sides feuded with one another when separated. They ridiculed and mocked the other side when apart but would play cordial whenever we had a coming together. As a kid, all I wanted was for my families to come together and support one another, but my wants and theirs clashed...plus I was disregarded due to my small stature. Despite this, I had people on both sides of my family I adored, but there were many on both sides I did not feel safe around.

I had my favorite family members, who I could hang out with, whenever I saw them. I and my sister usually liked the same family members, so it worked out. I think my sister believed that meant those people could be in on our pact, but I don't believe that helped our personal bond. I do think it was needed for what the future held, but nonetheless, our relationship, as it was, was sacrificed. I believe duos are strong, but trios are often when true intimacy is tested. The best trio would be parents raising a child, but even those trios come with many hills and wars.

My fortunes were also that I had my animations and video games, my sister, and our imaginations. I was abundant in many ways, but each thing had its sacrifices. Animation started innocent but gradually became a quest to find me within it, thus crossing through territory in which animations were no longer innocent but perverted as well sometimes. Video games were one of my favorite addictions. Considering my affinity for fantasy, those were the games I gravitated toward. It was the perfect portal of escape into a place where I could nurture my perversions and misunderstandings. My sister and I treated each other like batteries. We were not individuals together, but in this world, which meant we weren't learning how to grow as a personal person. As much as we wanted to see each other grow, we could not see that separately for one another.

Finally, our imaginations. Everyone has an imagination, although it is expressed in variety. To produce an image in one's mind can be in support of a thing or in disagreement with a thing. This means we had plenty of agreement for the things we were inspired by or clung to...but almost no pathway for anything that disagreed with us. All my addictions became the images I produced, and her addictions became her productions. Our flaws grew ramped in our imagination, but we covered them in playful and child-borne hopes. As much as these things inspire hope in my heart and mind, the source of each hope was often my feelings and my ignorance.

I am not belittling the child I grew up as, but simply sober of the confusion I had to grow up in. None of those things left a permanent peace in me but rather were temporary meals to compensate for the troubled and hungry spirit I had. It's hard to remember how rough my childhood was, so bear with me. I grew up hungry, neglected, but expected to be the big brother, and confident. My mother had two more kids, and my dad didn't stop at my mom. It wasn't easy trying to take care of my siblings when I was nothing but a kid myself. My mom would call me a man and a boy, once I passed ten years old. I had the responsibilities of a man in some ways, but many restrictions as a boy in others. Often, I was lied to and lied about. My relationship with my mother grew callous because I couldn't trust her; and so, my nurture came from another family member.