Hey, reader. Back again, I see? It makes me glad that after our first conversation you decided to return. For what reason, I don't know. As I mentioned previously, I cannot give you tha gift of answers, whatever answers you may seek. However, for those who are reoccurring and for those who are freshly ripe, thank you for reading.
I don't know what to do anymore. I'm all alone. In my room. Sitting. Doing nothing. I stare at the walls and at the ceiling fan. I stare at my TV and my console that used to console me at my darkest moments. I stare at my door, my IMac and my desk. I do not have a mirror in my room. I stare at my bed. Stare at the pillows that are the landing place of all my tears when I cry every night. I continue to stare at my pillows, which I hug and close my eyes and imagine someone hugging me back. Caring. Whispering. Telling me that it's all going to be alright and that I'll be okay. Telling me that they love me no matter what. Unconditionally. I don't stare at myself.
I don't have any friends. Never did. In school I used to get bullied, humiliated. Back at home I'd get abused by my father and watched my younger sisters mercilessly laughing at my pain, telling me it was all my fault and that I needed to grow up. Pain. Deep, heart aching pain. Pain a 10 year old child should never feel.
Pain a 14 year old teenager should never feel. Pain a 16 year old should never feel.
Darkness. Darkness surrounds me and that's the only thing that does. At this point I think that even darkness is just trying to keep me company as I sob. Tears of sadness? Depression? Loneliness? The feeling that I don't matter? The feeling that I'm never understood? The feeling of being the eldest son?
At this point I don't even think I can cry anymore. Crying doesn't make a difference. It never did. Surrounded around me are people who truly never did care about me. They see the tears. See the pain in my eyes when I make eye-contact with them. See that I'm being abused. See that I want to escape, to be free of this pain. But they don't say a word. They stay silent. And then when everything is over, they come back and act as if they care. Betrayal from a best friend of 20 years hurts less than that. The feeling that you truly don't have anyone who would die for you. Stick up for you. Stand up against the oppressor. But they don't. In order to not get oppressed by the opressor, they become the oppressors. Hypocrisy is ashamed of them.
Underneath a sheet of white, is a black sun. Under it, is me. Darkness shines it's light on me, making it unable for other people to see me, to understand me. To help me. To be there for me just as I want to be there for them. But the darkness envelopes them into a stats of incomprehension, a state of blindness. And the sheet of white would be more compelling to look at, so they would turn their backs on me and move on with their lives. This would be more believable than what I'm going through. Because at the end of the day,
They see me.
They hear me.
They don't understand me yet understand me.
They do not want to accept that I am right.
They fear the oppressor.
They become the oppressors themselves.
They leave behind what's right in pursuit of what's beneficial to them.
They try to justify it with 'It's your fault that you're getting abused'.
If that is the case, make murder legal.
Make grape legal.
Make everything that is wrong legal.
Why? Because that is your logic. To avoid doing the right thing and cowardly hiding behind loose sheets just to avoid you being oppressed in the future makes you the opressor, too, towards the oppressed who is just trying to be a normal teenager trying to live in a cruel world.
I don't know what to do.