Mens Cruentatus (Joshler)

Principium

Tyler's Back-story

"Dear God, we thank you for your goodness, your mercy and your grace. Help us to carry these pleasant gifts in our own hearts and lives. May we minister these to all of the world. Amen."

The words released from Tyler's lips easily. Most likely because he was forced to repeat them every night before bed.

His hands would interlock so easily that he thought that he'd never be able to get out of the routine of thanking the lord for all of the great things brought to him in his life. Tyler often wondered as a young soul if there was even such a thing as a higher human being. A creator. Maybe he was a metaphorical figment of everyone's imagination that reassured us that there would be life after death.

The only thing that ever really intrigued Tyler about religion was the idea of heaven. He didn't think it was a great palace in the clouds but instead it was what you chose it to be.

It was your reward.

Although taught that god was a man who could reward great things, many more times than a few, Tyler wanted to yell at god for placing him in the 'lovely' arms of his unqualified parents.

Tyler knew from the beginning that his parents were no good. That's not something that a four year old should be realizing. From the very beginning he was 'the child of God.' He never liked when his parents referred to him as that. He wasn't the child of God, he was their child. Yet it seemed like God took more care of him then his parents did.

His parents would hit him if he defied instructions.  They would scream at him if he slept passed a certain time early in the morning. They would starve him when he opened his mouth when he shouldn't.

He was like a puppet being controlled by the people that he had to call 'mom and dad.'

So when Tyler was scared that he'd be punished for speaking too much or forgetting to pray in the morning, he became enveloped by distracting habits and hobbies.

Start the first song! It's called I'm Not. A Saint by Tech N9ne

He formed a strong liking to textures and would often find his small young hands trailing the smooth textures of the countertop or even the few door frames that his child-hood home held.

At age eleven, Tyler had developed a huge fascination with how it felt to live outside of his house. School was his only real freedom to escape the prison he lived in. When he stepped outside the doors of his home he thought he'd never be able to catch up with the wind. But it followed him like a guardian angel and chased him when he tried to runaway.

His prison consisted of faded yellow walls, a blue door and a welcoming doormat. What was on the outside never could've compared to what was on the inside.

It was deceiving and manipulating.

Everyday he would return to the home where his mind would jumble and his hands would shake. He really wanted to do something about his discomfort, but he was an only child who's parents decided that they would raise him in the worst way possible. He had no one to talk to about anything.

By seventeen he was trapped in this everlasting cycle of unproductiveness that sent him into a deep depression. His parents hardly cared for his new found eating disorder let alone a strong holding force that kept him in his place under the covers in his bed.

That's when he got punished the most. When he just couldn't will himself to sit up from bed.

He did pray though. Every morning and every night. Not because his parents asked him to, but because he wanted to pray for himself.