Cult of Personality
When I was a child, I hate making a new friends.
I love my comfort zone, having just one friend are more than enough for the little me. I think it’s of no use to make friends since most of the kids on my block are kind of snob and rude to each others. plus the fact that deep down I’m socially awkward. I was a quiet child you know, I don’t know how to start a conversation with the other kids, all of those years of my childhood I spent waiting for someone to approach me since I’m not good at it.
As I got older I start to learn to mingle and make friends. Because I can’t keep isolating myself. But it just that my hatred toward my hometown it’s just too big, I dislike it so much that my dream was to moving out of town. I dislike every inch of it. It always rains here and most of the time I fucking hate rain, it’s cold and sad and gloomy. Then we talk about the people, they love to talk behind someone’s back, stabbing each other with their own words, cutting people’s heads off. And I can’t stand myself for slowly turning to be like them! So I quit.
It’s just too negative over here, and they’re fine with it (the people that live here). I’m always confused and disgusted by their behaviour. The fact that I lost my best friends and realizing they were never actually your friend to begin with also play a big part on it. But also I can’t blame them because when I look at my own reflection I can’t stand it.
How does it feel like to be what you’ve become what you said you would never be?
my world begins to spin out of control when my parents sent me away to boarding school for troubled teens, I held a grudge against my parents over it for years and years, the self destruction that turned me into a monster, all the sleepless nights that I’ve been going through, and all the constant conversation with myself in my head are killing me. I was constantly in trouble and deeply unhappy with things that weren’t working out there.
They robbed my freedom. I desperately wanted to leave. I’m not missing my home I just wanted to go anywhere but that place. the destruction they’ve caused in me couldn’t be more than this.
The thing that hurts me so much back then was when I came home there’s a lot of things that changed and when I see my family I feel like a bystander. It’s hard to describe those kind of feelings but it’s just so uncanny, it felt as if I was a missing part of something and I don’t belong there. the worst part of it was that I attempted to kill myself few times, but I just love life so much that I don’t want to leave but also hate it so much that I felt like giving up. I was living like lost soul, a robot, a mannequin. I walk, I sleep, I talk, I eat but it’s so vague.
Then It’s time for me to go, I leave my town, I leave my house. I’m on my own.
I love my solitude, it’s keeping me alive, away from everything that reminds me of my past. Leaving was the best thing that I have ever done for myself since I don’t want to lose myself anymore.
We humans keep secrets or lie, we are imperfect beings.
I still find It’s hard to open up, a part of me has died, but that’s okay.
We’ll figure it out later.
