seven, six, ten

2.

the air was cold, and my body felt like frozen glass waiting for the impact of the ground. i had returned home, after the long weeks spent in the hospital. i was healed and now only had to concern myself with another car and an explanation. every since i was 10, i dealt with the desire to hurt living things. it was the only satisfaction i could get, and that satisfaction was the only thing i could feel. it started off small, killing rabbits and chipmunks and small birds. then it escalated into stray cats and missing dogs. i preferred not to kill cats though, only hurt them, because i felt i had a connection to them at the time. but now i was 16 years old and my impulses escalated even further. far enough to cause me to crash my car into a brick wall after just healing from laceration wounds and a severe concussion. everything should be explained well enough by the hospital staff, but how do i explain the mental aspect of it to my caregiver who didn't even birth me?
i wasnt going too. i was sitting on the curb down the long pathway from my aunts house. there was a driveway in the back by the three car garage, and from that a small stone road where the garden was. down the path there was a curb before the wooden deck built on water with large chairs and a oversized cushion that i used to sleep on. my family worked high paying jobs, both of them ceo of their workplaces, and all my cousins and i worked well paying jobs too. i find that my family has the tendency to want to please everyone, or use that use of words to show that they wanted to show off our money to their friends. we were always told to dress nice and owned new highly priced things so that we could represent our family well. of course my mother was not included in that. she was intellectually disabled and neglected from the moment she was old enough to be diagnosed. my grandparents wanted smart, talented children, and they certainly didnt want her. because of this neglect she settled for a woman who took advantage of her disability. she manipulated her until i was old enough to understand it. i thought that love was as i saw it in my household, and i still haven't adjusted to the fact that it doesnt have to be that way. i told myself that if i let myself get attached to people the same thing would happen to me or my spouse. i didnt want to love anyone, but i think what i didnt want was less of love towards someone and more of my perception of love.
my aunt was constantly trying to set me up with her friends daughters. i guess her friends shared the same desires of pleasure as her, and she wanted her children to carry that reputation. i think the only reason she wanted me because i was generally considered attractive, and intellectually gifted.

sometimes i wish i was addicted to nicotine. i wouldn't start now, but i would be nice to have already started; because at times like these when the water is still and the air is quiet it would be nice to feel an escape from it. or anything else, really, because inflicting pain is not a healthy coping mechanism.