The first time you just want to feel numb, you're to young or naïve to understand what's happening, so you go to your mothers medicine cabinet and snatch some Valium. Of course you don't really want to kill yourself and you don't know anything about dosage but nonetheless you succed on spending a day sliping into unconciousness. It's really a sad moment when you realize that no one has noticed.
The next time is not on purpose, it's just that you have grown up and that you have find other ways to make you numb to the pain. You're not allowed to party as late as your friends but you do the most of it. You develop a tolerance for alcohol and drugs. So the day that you found yourself on the morning in the bathroom sleeping on your vomit, you just want to die even more because no one has noticed.
Then it starts, the lying, the cutting school to go smoking with your not-so-good friends, the going out with guys you don't even know, the belittling of your old friends. You fail at school, and just then they notice that something is wrong with you. But the truth is that he wants you home with him. You panic, you don't want to spend another year in the same house as him so you tell your Mom. She feigns ignorance, she acusses you of provoking him. You cry, you beg to be heard. She makes you the suitcase and sends you away. She will never be your Mom again, she never was.
They send you to a boarding school, a hideous school for people with money and no better thing to do than to sell drugs in class. You meet her, you think she is going to be your savior. She is so sweet and caring. Everything stops when she gets you, she is not who you thought she was, she is abussive and possessive. You loose faith in humanity. You fear that you are never going to find the person who will love you like in the fairytales. Every morning you take a look in the mirror and you see nothing, just a nuisance for everybody. You decide to end it, you're determined, you purchase a razor blade, you slit your wrists. But when you wake up it's hell again, you we're caught just in time. You leave her, but you'll always have the scars to remember.
As you grow up you understand that you can't get over it alone, you search help. You don't have the money to pay a proper shrink so you go to the social security, they give you tons of medicine and once a month therapy. You meet this guy and think everything is going to be perfect. You're oh, so wrong,and you think everything is your fault, that your horrible, that you're damaged. This time you have the means to do it, you're adult enough to understand the dosages. While you're dying you discover that you are just another innocent child who got trampled on, that nothing was your fault, that they were supposed to cherish you, to protect you. That you were just an easy prey for them. Suddenly you don't want to die, and you close your eyes wishing you coulñd just have another chance.
Next time you regain conciousness you're driven, no one is going to get in your way. Your going to get better and live because maybe someday you could help someone in your same position and just for that all of your story would be worth it. You finish your studies, you meet a nice man, you marry.He's really nice with you and you know that he loves you, you're in love. Life is not perfect but you're happy and that is all that matters. Life was never supposed to be perfect
Just this morning when you looked into the mirror you saw the ghost of your experience, you tried to swallow it down but the tears are to powerful and quick making their appereance. You understand that you'll have to live with this all your life. Then you ask yourself "God, why me?" inmediately you get the answer, there's no God and bad things happen to good people simply because no one notices, they dont want to notice. It easier living their lives and leave the rest to fend for themselves.
Next time you're in between crossroads remember my story. Life really is worth living. And remember to help those around you, it would have been so nice if someone had helped me.
3 comments:
Bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people, this is the essence of anti-karma. The really sad thing is that its true..
(as i´m working now and i have no time, i will continue later, my english is slow and i need time to write everything i want)
First of all, of course there's no god, but some religious person had a great idea, and thought the said "cuando tienes problemas no te ayuda ni dios" (when you have problems neither god helps you, or something like this), well, this person was Spanish-spoken, so the said is in spanish.. but the thin is that they have excuses for everything.
Leaving aside the history of religious nonsenses (well, as you know religion and nonsense are synonyms, but its no time for this now).. mm as i was saying, i agree with you in the main point, we need to feel loved, loved by family, friends, husband/wife.. in general by someone (or somemuchs as would say our minister friend), and we need to feel that someone cares about us, because if you don't see that you are a bit important for someone at the end neither you care about yourself, and i think thats not a good thing..
I feel lucky for having a family and very good friends that loves me so much, and i always thought that they are the best thing i have, the most important, so i cant imagine how would it be being alone (but alone alone), i suppose life would loose all sense.
With aaaaall of this i want to say two things.. the first is that is a miracle that you are alive, a really good miracle i mean (shit! the religious theme again..) and second.. what was the second?.. this happens when it takes me soooo many time writing this..
..ah! (shit, this was important) the second is i always thought of you as an example that you can pass every bad moment, and when you (not you Mrs. Bitter, you in general, everybody) feel sooo very very miserable there's a ray of hope in your story that makes you think "there will be good days", and you feel better..
Of course i think of you in may ways (all good ways), and this is only one of them, not the only one..
As you can see, my writing english is potatoer, but the good news are that it only can improve..
PS: (comentario de la jugada) joé que tarde es.. y menudo rollaco he puesto, si lo leo pensaré ¡pero que es esto!¿yo he puesto eso? si es que ya no se ni lo que he puesto.. ahora es cuando estoy pensando ¿publico el comentario?¿no lo publico?.. por eso es tan largo el PS.. que cohone! #vaaserquesi, que me he tirado un buen rato..
Ja! Es como un comentario de mucho humor que destila cariño y amistad. Desde luego has conseguido que me ria un buen rato, lo que es mas o menos milagroso teniendo en cuenta que esta mañana me an despertado las vecinas berreando y que tengo comida con caliz a mediodia.
Gracias por comentar! Un beso enorme
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