My fucked up life story

INTRODUCTION

The worst part about growing up to me was not the increase in responsibility or the higher expectations people put in me. To me, it was the realization of alot of things. One of those things was realizing that the people I thought were flawless and that I thought could not be beaten down, were, in fact only human. Being a child I had a very simple mindset and I wasn't able to differentiate between what was the norm and what wasn't. I put my parents on pedestals and believed they were invincible. As I grew up I began realising slowly more and more that they themselves were lost and broken children living in adult bodies mimicking adult lives. When I look into the eyes of my father I see a pain so deep that it could drown me in its very depths. I see a weariness, a type if tired that could only be satisfied by a deep sleep, the kind you never wake up from. I see something so sad and so weary that in some melancholic way I see it as beautiful and pure. As I was growing up I began to receive flashbacks of my childhood. I began to have some memories of nights and days sitting in the corner of our apartment's bathroom with the lights off and memories of dark blue and purple bruises running down my arms like ancient runes and blood clot secrets. When I began receiving flashbacks of other things I was to terrified to fathom or indulge in I realized that the life I had been living in was a nightmare I had yet to reincinerate. I realised that it wasn't normal to eat every day and that sticks were meant for brooms not beatings. I discovered that mostly all families don't yell at their kids for laughing or wanting to plah. As of now, I do not consider myself fully grown. I consider myself a work in progress. After these realization hit me I became bitter. I began to hate the person that I was. To be precise, I didn't know who I was but I knew it was something I didn't want to be.