2 years ago1,000+ Views
Broken hearts, broken memories, broken this and broken that. How about a broken paper with no writing on it but people decide to throw it away or rip it to pieces because they find it plain or stupid or "there's nothing written on it, what am I supposed to do with it?" Days of hell spent on a hospital bed, days of torture by my own body and days of great misdeeds and regrets. I kind of feel bad for myself knowing that I am living such a hard life when life it's self shouldn't be hard at all. But what does life ever had to do with anything? I'm just a broken piece of paper ripped apart because someone or something thought that I was a waste or someone without meaning. Truthfully, I don't consider myself a neglectful psycho because I've never neglected anyone as far as I know. But who am I to lie to myself of the things that I've done and never felt guilty of doing. I am a man of simplicity and disorders that always make the simplicity run away and not come back until the right time. Time has paid me well in the arts of patience and strength. Because of that I am able to control my emotions or my cyclothymic disorder. I could be consider someone with issues and someone to feel pity for and they don't always hesitate on showing it. All of this started 12 years ago. My emotions began to diverse into a multitude of nothing and took over me. I showed no expression, no feelings and no sence of care for anything or anyone around me. I had turned, I guess, un-human. I was feared by many of the ones I called friends and by the other kids I was bullied for being the way I am. They used to call me names like "nothing", "pig", "statue", "king of the un-heard of" and so on. They chased me down and beated me all the time. My body became so used to the pain that I used to smile at the hurtful feelings. My family was already falling apart along with my world and what's left of me so what's the point in being sad at the pain. Heartaches arose the day I saw my mom crying on the floor of the living room. She looked miserable and tired, but, I didn't feel anything. No sympathy, no care, no love. I guess it's because love is a hard thing to have these days when there are so many you can't trust. Mom always asked me why I am the way I am. I don't really know myself and I would like to know the origin of it. What did I do? what happened? why did my emotions go away and became blank pieces of paper. Feelings aren't hard to have but they're hard to regain. I lost it all, gave all and loved all but I never felt a thing for it. Or did I ever seemed to think of myself as a good kid. I was always the intelligent one. My grades where always aced and I have never failed at something I couldn't good. I was the smartest kid in the school but I was akways the most hated for it. Girls would line up around me asking me all kinds of questions: If I was born like this, raised like this, thought this way or was I ever just blessed with it. To be honest, I'm not one to answer questions about my life and what not. I don't like to feel like I am being pittied by everyone I tell my story to... including you. I am a man of simplicity and issues that in the back of my head I want fixed. My body isn't responding to me anymore. I am a sleepless teenager with so many goddamn issues that I am damn sure there's a special place for me in hell. A seat next to Satan perhaps? i'd like to some day meet the man himself and ask him if he was ever misunderstood or was he ever asked " what's wrong?" or told "tell me everything." He's probably just like me and maybe he can tell me a good advice that I've lacked on my entire life. WHAT THE FUCK!!! I WANT TO FUCKING DIE!!! I WANT TO JUST END IT ALL AND FUCK THE WORLD!!! " LET ME OUT!!!!!" "LET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE YOU MOTHERFUCKING BITCHES!!!!" "I WANT TO MEET SATAN!!!! I WANT TO MEET HIM SO THAT I CAN ASK HIM QUESTIONS!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!" "CAN I JUST SEE HIM ONCE!!!!!!!!???????? FUCKING ANSWER ME YOU GODDAMN BASTARDS!!!!" "LET ME SEE HIM!!!!!!!!" A ripped piece of paper with no meaning.......