Unreality Reality

Chapter 1

I Hate Reality

What am I even doing here? Why do I have to live in a cruel world where nobody likes me and want me? Where do I belong?

Splash. That was a smoldering hot soup that was poured over my head, it's not that hot but that's what I felt. As I ran outside the doors, I can still hear their laughter.

I had to crank my neck just to wash my oily, greasy black curly hair under the sink and whisper the deadly curses I've known over the years. Why does it have to be like this? Just what did I do to the world to be treated this badly?

When I returned over to my table, I saw my stuff scattered on the floor and found my bag inside the trash bin. I had to pick it all up and neatly put it back together and sat down, but before my rear can even reach the seat, it was pulled and a loud thud was heard all over the room. After that was my painful grunt, then a loud hysterical laughter from everyone.

I'm ashamed, ashamed to be in the same school as these immature people, ashamed with myself, and ashamed of this life.

Atleast I managed to get through that horrible day, although barely. They never stopped coming up with something to mess with me. May it be a bucket of mop-water, crumpled papers of sheets (that they never tried to understand even though they're supposed to) all aimed at me, tying my shoelaces to the back of my seat, and anything more stupidier than that.

But that wasn't the worst of it all. Because when I come home, another hell will be waiting for me.

I loved my family, I really did. But it was harshly one-sided. Until the torment continued on and on, and that love? Well, it's gone. There's nothing but hatred. Hatred. And guess what? Another hatred.

They just can't accept me for who I am. I'm always not enough. It wasn't my fault that I was born this way, it wasn't my fault that all of the good genes was taken by my older brother and none was left for me. It wasn't my fault that they got an angel as a child, and demon for the other.

But the blame will always be pointed at me, because I'm always wrong. And my brother will always be right. He is kind hearted and a God's blessing.

It just happened that my brother was born a genius, handsome, and kind person. Ever since he was a baby, he was at top of everything. He even got a scholarship on entering middle school. He also plays sports. He has great social skills and everybody loves him. So when I was born? My parents had the same expectations of me. I had to do this and that to be acceptable to their tastes but I can't. Because I'm the complete opposite of my brother.

But my parents never knew that they had demons for both of their children, not only one.

Whenever my parents are gone, my brother would hurt me. Take every valuable things from me and when I don't, I get the heavy palms of his kissing my cheeks. Sometimes it would be knuckles.

My parents should know by now right? But my brother is a sneaky person. He gave my parents the idea that I was fighting at school and told them that my friends would tease me but I'll start a fight. It was so low, I was being bullied not teased.

Then whenever my parents would see fresh wounds on me, they would punish me with new ones. Their angel child, who also the one who gave me the wounds, would be stopping them from hurting because it was "wrong" but would show a smug on his face when our parents aren't looking.

This time, I'm already numb of how everything revolved around me. So when I get back from school, I would always be doing what was needed to be done. The house would be solely to myself because both of my parents are at work and my brother would be at his practice. I would drown myself in the opposite of my own reality, games.

Gore games, killing games, shooting games, horror games, rpg games. Every games that involve fighting, killing and hurting. I would imagine everyone who had hurt me to be hurt by me. It was helpful. No one knew that I always just play for hours no end just until somebody comes home, the computer given to me was solely for my homeworks but I managed to do something and hide what I do with it. I was smart with technology even though my family thinks I'm utterly stupid.

But when my brother comes home, I would always be at his mercy. Which he has none.

Be enslaved by the parents who always tell me how I should be grateful for having roof over my head.

And tortured by my own conscience who always would ask me why I'm not doing something to end this suffering? Why would I let myself live in the life I never wanted? Why am I still here, just to suffer? Why won't I just get this over with?

But then, I also know that I can't give up my life. I only have one.

So that night, as I cry myself to sleep from receiving new fresh violet spots all around my body and from the hatred in myself and to the world, I prayed. I prayed to God, if he was actually there to listen, to take me away from here.

I prayed to give me a chance in a different life. A chance to decide my own fate and not by those people around me. A fate where people won't chain me of their expectations and judgement. I want a new reality, because I really really hate this one.