To me, life is defined by those 3-seond long pulse-pounding moments, the ones that give you an epiphany of all epiphanies. My teenager years in particular have been filled with these moments. They have helped others around me, and myself to see who I am and who I hope to become. They have given me sadness and depression, mostly in the last six months. And they have taught me things that, six years ago I never would have thought I could learn.
I have always seen myself as an outsider and intruder into a distant world. I fit into life, more as scenery than as another living breathing human being. In part, this is due to my own hesitation.
Mostly, though this natural instinct to remain anti-social is born out of fear.
Trust is something that must be earned. How, I cannot ever say. You don't meet someone know and instantly trust them. The people I know (They may say we are friends, but I put a much higher definition of friends before me. My friends are people who seek me out, to read the new things I write, and who at least pretend to understand me) are not deserving of trust. I do not turn my back to them, for fear they will pull some childish prank.
"Trust is all but gone from my soul," I once wrote. "In its place is a gaping hole."
Just a few short months ago, my best friend in the whole world left me. I trusted her, and she betrayed that trust. Now, certain parts of me (such as my trusting side) have been shut down, because they caused too much pain. I can't go back to trust another now, not feeling like I do.
My father was no help with this problem. If possible, I trust him less then I trust any of the other people I know. And I fear him more then I fear being hurt again.
How many times must I lose, before I can win again? That's what being a teenager is all about, I suppose. Learning about you, and about the world.
My parents divorced six years ago. My mother blamed it on my father; my father on my mother, and the world I knew came to a screeching halt.
People patronize me. They tell me that they know they claim to understand. Do they think that helps? No one has ever stood in my shoes and seen the world as I do, nor looked through my eyes into a mirror and written what they observed.
People who claim to understand make me sick.
Never in my life have I seen stability. Since my parents were divorced I have lost my entire memory of what life was like before it turned into the tortured hell that I now have to live.
Perhaps that is for the better, having noting to compare my current predicament too may make it seem less painful.
But how can I have hope, and peace, and dreams, if I cannot even remember what it was like to be happy?
Two of these three-second pulse-pounding moments have now been discussed. First, the ends of my world second, the day I lost trust.
These two moments were without a doubt the greatest defining moments of my life. There is one more, that I have yet to discuss, not out of hesitation, but out of a lack of a creative way to present it. I'll give it a shot now, pay attention, this is the only thing that matters to me now.
Just recently, I discovered writing. Nothing can set you free like writing can. There are no constraints, no boundaries, just a pen, a paper, and an imagination.
People say I should write from my heart, I don't do that. My heart is filled with anger, fear, rejection, frustration, pain, and a great sadness that presses into my soul.
To write about my heart, would be to write about depression. I write my best, when I write what I know, and what I know, is being depressed. Writing to me is an emotional outlet, my way to relieve (a tiny bit) of the feelings that I have been carrying around for six years.
Slowly, through my poems, short stores, and songs, I have gradually exposed myself in larger and grander ways to the world. I have opened up and embraced it, and I have let it embrace me right back. Despite all this, I am still depressed. The pain and the trials that I must overcome on a DAILY Basis are grinding me down. Without someone who cares to fall back on, I do not know that I can make it through these things.
And even if I do, what will life be like then? I can't even remember being happy. Being depressed is what I know. Without it I am just another log thrown onto the fire, fuel for the insecurities of a burning world.
When my best friend, and my girlfriend for they are one in the same, left me, it re-opened a wound that I had hoped I had managed to close. Feelings of grief, loss, and despair flooded through me, filling me up to the top, and pushing past to envelop me.
Trapped is the word I use to describe it.
From what I understand, I use to be a kind, and caring person. I use to love life, and to be happy. But all of that was taking away from, and a sensitive young boy was introduced into a new scary world.
My life has been filled with these moments, from the day I was born, to the day I will die I will always, always, remember how they changed me.
Some, I'm sure will stay with me forever. Like that first case of lost puppy love. Don't tell me everyone goes through it, that would be patronizing me, and I HATE that.
Some will drift away with time, but that's okay, because new ones will come to take their place.
My life is a story of perseverance, of strength, of change, of adaptation, and of finding a way and will to go on, when everything you know is lost.
In some ways, it reminds me of an oldies song. It's got a beat to it, in that I always seem to lose. A melody, like a mood, that starts off high and ends up low, just as good things drop away. And lyrics, which sing of a girl who was everything, that was lost.
Do not tell me that you are sorry, you are not sorry for me. You did not have to live it; you do NOT know what it is like. Sorry is the most misused word in the English language, used only when people do not know what else to say.
I am sorry, sorry in that I seem to catch all the bad luck. But I, am a far, far, better man because of it.
