What to make of these lies
Tonight, i did something stupid. it was the most blatant cry for attention i’ve ever done and it got answered.
You can tell a man he has to fish to survive, you can even show him how but you can’t make him do it. Thats the way i’ve lived, simple, uneventful, and most of all depressing. I grew up with a middle class family. It was an easy life. my mother would take control of most situations so my siblings and i didn’t have to do much. It was a very hypocritical household, i was yelled at for staying inside all day but was never given a time that i could go out side. I enjoyed school early on, as i would walk every time. i didn’t have a lot of friends, my reading skills weren’t up to par, and the more i asked questions the more self aware i got.
I remember after the christmas in my 4th year of school that i revived a Gameboy. my report cards will show you that my grades slowly fell from As and Bs to Cs and Ds even Fs. My mother began to bargain with me for my grades to rise. “all i ask for are Cs.” is what she would tell me but it never happened. my high school years i was fed up with the system and didn’t want to be apart of it. I wasn’t present for most of my freshman year. i slowly began to regret what i’ve done in my sophomore year. i ended up dropping out soon after.
i mentioned self awareness at a young age because of the problems it created. the biggest were small “Voices” that would put me down. telling me i was not the boy my mother wanted. It was hard to argue with them and i grew up sad most of the time. a vicious cycle of expecting to fail, failing, and cursing my self for failing. if i could say one good thing, i never lost my good nature.
It’s always been easy to accept people and the things they did. i was likely to believe the first thing that was said and only question it if opposing information presented its self. i loved to conversant and learn new ways of thinking, discus the meaning of things, and just enjoy someone’s company. the only thing i couldn’t stand was when things got quiet. It was hard not to put my self down when it was quiet. so i found something that helped. i quickly grew addicted to videogames, the immediate and often visual rewards were what i lived for. i would lie to my parents, cheat on chores, and steal games all in order to play more. What love i couldn’t feel from my family i found in games.
even as i write this i can not say that i have a firm grasp on what love truly is. on paper i can recite that it means extreme longing or caring. i believed that true LOVE was only in fairy tales. i got into a relationship in my late high school years. and i would recite “Love” as if it was air itself. i lied to her and my self so much, that the only thing to do was keep up the charade. love? i would die for that woman, but love? Doing what i felt was expected of me is how i lived. i wouldn’t call it love. It was pure obsession, there wasn’t anything i wouldn’t do for her. It was when she lost my trust that i grew more aware of what i said, did, and how i acted. how i cursed my self for acting like a fool and bring this woman down with me.
but thats my life. I’m twenty one now, i am expected to have a job. my family is allowing me to stay with them but i am afraid that my time is running thin. i do not know how to cook for my self, out side of “put in bowl. microwave.” i do house work, not much else. I weave stories when i can, i write music when i find a beat, and i draw what i want people to see. i consider my self rather creative because i can find inspiration in a lot of things. sadly, the voices stayed with me, always convincing me to stop before finishing or even starting most times.
I am my greatest weakness.
Suck it up and get a job.
You have to just do it.
If you never start, you never will.
if you wait long enough, it will go away.
Tell them what they want to hear.
What right do you have to complain?
I don’t like it when it gets quiet. i argue with my self and it gets harder to win. the longer that i can not win. the more i put my self down. the results of that are visible. the scars i’ve inflicted on my self to remind my self that i won’t take it are clear if i told you where to look.
The discolored skin on the back of my hand, smoking runs in my family. i didn’t want to follow that road anymore.
the line of my fore arm, hurting someones feeling is just as bad as wounding them. i broke a young girl’s heart, who am i to do that?
the scratches on my face heal quickly. there will be more, this i know for certain. it stems from a sense of justice, the wrong doing must be punished.
Now? now i just sit and stew. i avoid the silence as best i can. thoughts of suicide are abundant these days. there is a gun within the house and i know its not firing blanks.