A Vat Of Boiling Sugar And Ancient Torture Cure Methods...everything Starts Somewhere

Sadly or maybe not so sadly I want a variety of people dead. They all deserve it and what ever else that may befall them in the mean time. I truly hope there is an after life and a day of reconning for them and all that they have done that make me wish them dead. Somethings no matter what you try to do, to escape them, they can not be forgotten; and there just certain instances, that happen in your life, where someone has done you (or worse yet someone you care for) wrong. A wrong that is demoralizing and inhumane in its very essence and those times those deeds no matter what religion you subscribe to, there just is no forgiveness available there. I have looked with in and I have looked around, and I have read many books and talked to a fair bit of councelors and the whole lot of "professional help" and while I sometimes find ways to cope, and to exist, and I find ways to get by the reality of my life is this isnt living. This half life is not something I asked for, or needed,or deserved, no one did, and for this I most certainly wish some people dead!!!

I just turned 29 and sometimes I feel 80, on my really bad days, its well over a hundred. I've spent most of my life always being the grown up, the dependable one, the rock,the strength,guiding light in a storm. I'm dependable and unshakable,basically I'm your fixer, for lack of a better word. I'm the person everyone no matter old or young turns to when crisis hits. I'm glad that people thing of me in this way, it males me feel like at the very least no matter how messed up my life is, at least I'm doing something good in the world. I mean theres so many people out there doing bad,just doing worng for no good reason so they need more people out there that can be counted on, that are dependable, people that you can go to in a time of need and feel like you're getting somewhere, like theres a plan and something can be done...the only problem is that person, that wonderful unwavable person, well it isnt really me. Maybe it's who I could have been, or maybe it's someone I will be, but right now, I just dont think it's me.

When people confide in me, I listen and I dont judge, who am i but a nobody anyhow(well maybe not a nobody but im no one special) I dont even know how this all got to where it is right now, me being some weird, off the wall, defacto, listener, but it seems like there's never a pause in the amount of bad people are doing to each other. I can't stand it,it makes me wish a lot of people dead, they dont deserve to live when they destroy the lives of those around them. They keep me continually aware of the ugliness in the world when I'm trying to find the beauty. Some days I can't even make it out of bed because of all the woes and sorrows I cant bare to be exposed to because the cracks in my armour are finally starting to show leaving me feeling exposed and raw;like a snail with out a shell.

When it comes to me being the confider,the tale teller, the unburdener, I freeze. I'm like a rabbit in the headlights, caught unaware and unsure if the next step will be fatal. It has a lot to do with my past and what I experienced as a child. I know this, the same way I know my left from my right, and the same way I know breathing should be something automatic. Also years of, off and on head shrinkage  tends to confirm this fact, so who am I to go against the kind folks with the straight jackets, and padded cells(something I was at one point offered as a possible impending future) I also know but rarely admit, that the real truth of the matter is, I will never completely trust anyone!!! Never ever! I try and even currently I'm in a fairly trusting relationship with someone whos shared similar experiences as I have, but they will never know all of me, there will always be something hidden. A secret part kept quiet. They will never know everything, and the less they know frankly the better. This is is for their well being as much as it is for mine. Some truths can not be unsaid some cercumstances are too tragic to live through the first time,they need not ever be repeated, even in memory. Maybe its some crazy part of me that hopes that somehow, one day I'll forget it all; That these skeletons in my closet will one day just disapear, and nothing from my past will ever bother me again, so if theres someone that knows it all, this can't happen. (sorta like if you tell your wish to someone it wont come true)

 I also know that if I keep wishing my past away with out actually making efforts to let it go, it will go on to haunt me when I am finally old and grey.

 I also know that someone my age shouldnt be so angry and disallusioned with the world and her own existance;basically, I shouldnt be throwing in the towel before the fight even gets started...and so other than wishing them all dead(which i really really do!!!) I guess it's finally time to take a stab at finally telling my story, and hey maybe if it'll help, or maybe someone going through the same kind of crap and feeling the same way, will read it, and it can do some good  too...

My father dabbled in drugs but was never a junkie, he drank but was never a drunk, and most of all he was just never there. Even to the children that lived with him(as he did go on to make more children) he was never there. I never knew, and possibly still dont know this man, but I wouldnt mind him dead, I'm not totally ready to wish him there. (although i quite possible would consider a swift kick to the junk) HE never raped me or seriously beat me and seriously ive had a lot of men that have done worse but he has done wrong to me and those Ive grown to hold dear. First off,I blaim him for my sisters mental retardation as she was never born that way, during childhood testing, and to look at her even no one would suspect it's there, but take five mintues to talk to her and you begin to notice somethings off. She's 22 but in passing conversation you'd swear shes 8. She doesnt hold grudges, is gentle to everyone and everything around her, and all she really wants in life is to be loved. To him she is a slave, someone to frighten and to bend to his will. She does not get proper counceling,attend any special classes, and anyone that tries to convince her to leave the home is treated as an enemy. The worste thing and what brings me close to wishing him dead, is his best friend, and how after being by my fathers side before they were even born, and having to be there when we found out that my sisters were being raped by their neighbour, and having to go to court with them and coming over while they were getting talked to, and hearing all the dirty little disgusting things that man did to them and had them do...well he decided to do it too....my dear ole pops you see refuses to believe this, he refuses to believe that ever happened, even when the third and final person reporting it, is me. In thanks for finally coming forward I was told im better off dead(as i was to him) and that I was a cold hearted B. So yeah I blaim him for my 22 year old sister being trapped in a 8 year olds mind, because really, who continues to invite pedophiles over for coffee or tea. I definately wish his friend dead though, thats most certainly for sure!!!I only tried living with my dad out of sheer desperation when I was 15. I was spinning out of control,from what all the dirty little buggers had already done,so when his buddy came after me, that was it, I was done. The first chance i got out of there, I left and I never came back. At least on the streets the perverts offer to pay you, and if you say no they can be made to listen.

For 2 years I roamed the streets with equally haunted and broken people.We slept in parks and abandoned buildings, some were actually really cool people others were further gone and a far as people go almost rabid, but it didnt matter because we all didnt have a home to call our own so we all found our ways to get along. Sometimes I even managed to rent some rooms here and there but no one really likes renting to funky lookin street kids so those never lasted that long, and it's not like anyone ever tried to let me know that this all was also wrong, so the parks were the better more reliable options(besides that way you never got attached to anything for very long so there was never that feeling of failure) Drugs and booze became my best friend and when people spat on me or muttered names, telling me to get a life,or instead of begging or squeegying to get a job, well the booze and drugs made that hurt less, and as crazy as it sounds these crutches really did keep me the better part of human. It's really not all that bad, in this city it's impossible once you get the hang of things to really starve, so I managed ok. Besides I never had to worry about anyone unwelcomed touching me, and it was the one place I actually felt safe enough to sleep. Not all street people are decent but the once I found really did protect their own.

I can never truly delve too deeply into the years before my teens. its been 2 decades since i've made it past the worse of the abuse but to this day it still makes my blood boil. I no longer feel fear or shame about what happened, I no longer mistakenly feel its my fault(most of the time at least) but what I do feel is rage. Primal animalistic rage,so hot it makes my stomach acids boil, soetimes if i get really bad flash backs and dreams i wake up so angry I cant even talk without clentched teeth, so i avoid everyone and have to go spend a few minutes in the bathroom or somewhere cooling down. I'm angry for what they did,i'm angry for being stuck with only half a life,because they stole the missing peices that would have held it all together and made it whole. I'm angry cuz i'm sometimes really crazy,I'm angry because according to the law someone that robs anything monitary will always get punished more severly than someone who steals your innocense or trust or life, and you better believe I'm angry because no matter how far in life i get no matter how much good i do im stuck with all the reminders of what they did

(my scars arent only metaphorical,they're on my arms-from when one of the sickos decided raping me wasnt enough he was going to use me as a human ashtray when i was 9....he also could be why I can't ever have kids. I say could because he wasn't the only one...but somehow along the way...always magically being left with these kind of guys well something went horribly wrong. I dont care who did it or how it happened or when...i dont need the medical reasoning behind it...i cant ever have kids,of all the things they took from me that ones the worste of it all...and for that it's a sure thing i want them DEAD)

I think by this point the real question is well, what about my mom?

Well it's complicated, I mean she did try to be a mom...sometimes, but her concept of a mom and my concept of a mom vary greatly!!! Some people are naturals, she's not one of those. She tried to parent me like we were some family from her childhood sitcom. She tried telling me what to do, if I didnt listen I got the belt or she would throw up her hands and do nothing...those nothing times were when a lot of the bad stuff went down. She always felt there should be a amn in my life someone to decipline me since she felt it was a job she couldnt do. She also felt i had ruined her life and potential so sometimes she was entitled to go hang our with some friends and i was left to figure out what to do...she rarely if ever did drugs,barely touched the drink, and relied rather heavily on god as her main opiate of choice....i think ive actually been to every sunday school imaginable,which did broden my understanding of faith but at the same time gave me a very odd take on how god didnt really have a place in this sort of life. Dont even get me started on the a-hole preist that found out about my dirty little secret and had me say 42 hail mary's for being a product of sin...(why 42 anyhow 40's not enough it needs the edxtra 2?)anyhow regardless of how aware or culpable my mother was to the amount of neglect and abuse i had to endure or suffer she's always maintained that she was a good mother and regardless of who was to blaim or at fault it wasnt her...kinda hard to argue reason when someone has no flaws or faults...besides I have always had bigger fish to fry, or battles to wage, so as tumaultuious as our relationship may be my beef is not with her. (also as a side note on her she may be suffering from the onset of early alzheimers/dementia as with my grandmother, so I dont really feel theres a point in holding anything against her,it really wasnt on her, and if she cant remember most of it, all the better)

I also have another younger half sister who needs to be a part of this tale. I saved her part for later on as our struggle together is still on going. There is a part of my heart that always hurts for her. She is my one regret in life, as she is someone i have grown to love more than life itself,and because of this unfathomable sisterly bond it pains me to no end that no matter how hard I try and no matter what I do,she has had to go through so many mirrored troubles that i did,and theres not much I can do. I was there for her birth, I held her in my arms. She was something so fragile and sweet and innocent that i got to hold in my arms despite all the horror I had to endure. It was her and my other sister that made me try to force a relationship with my dad. They were why I always figured out how to track him down, why I'd find a way to get away from everything and convince my mom to let me go see them.

 They were why I knew there had to be more to life than what I had to go through,and maybe just maybe they were what gave me hope. I do not love her more than my other sister but our bond is much more stronger, and she has the uncanny resemblance and self destructive habits as me. The only thing that differs is her mother signed away parental rights when she was 2, my dad left her to rot in a trobled youths home at the age of 10, so she has never known what it was like to be a part of a family, even one as messed up and dysfunctional as ours( I got lucky with my maternal granmother who was the one decent thing through out my childhood, and who is to blaim(lol) for anything thats good, or sane, or right with me) She's like my other sister, and does everything she can to feel loved,this means she mimics peoples beliefs and mannerisms,good or bad. I tried having her come live with me, but I was entirely unprepared and didnt know how to help her, as a result she never listened to my warnings, or advice,and with alot of younger people from troubled pasts,fell in with the wrong crowd, and almost lost her life because of it. Those folks that tried to shall we say influence this early demise...well its needless to say(although i will...in the off chance this is a magic site that grants wishes...lol) I wish them dead too.

I honestly dont know if these wishes will ever come true(we can always hope) and maybe this will be another site who's concept appeals to me at first and then begins to fade and lose interest with time,but at least it's a way to deal, sometimes that notion we're not alone in this whole epic struggle we call life,maybe it's all we need when it comes down to it, at the end of the day.Who know's maybe its just me, but I wish those guys dead, and I wish any kind of people like them dead, and if theres someone reading this thats felt what i've felt and lived what i lived well then i wish your bad guys dead too!





carcynic carcynic
26-30, F
Mar 2, 2010