Olives-Mount-003

There comes a time in every person’s life when they take a second to evaluate their life. To look back at the yesteryears and bask in the brilliance of their triumphs and wail over their setbacks. A time to sit back and think of the good times, the not-so-good times, the ups and the downs, their accomplishments and the failures in accomplishing their accomplishments.

Today, I did just that.

For no particular reason. Just because I had time to myself today and I couldn’t help but let my mind wander into the abyss of my dark and twisty thoughts.

I thought of my childhood. The glory days of growing up and discovering things for the first time. Going through all of life’s motions. Maturing and learning something new every year. The lessons.

I thought I would be enlightened, proud even for the things that I have done. The person that I have become.

And yet I wasn’t. Enlightened. Or proud. Or glad even.

I thought I’d get sentimental and mushy and turn into a sap. Instead, I find myself feeling heated. Like I popped a nerve or something. I wasn’t sure why but I was feeling something.

Confused, I sat down and gathered myself. Allowed myself to just be still and let the sensation that clouded my mobility fade.

And then, as the obscurity of my sudden predicament ebbed, I managed to identify the emotion.

I was mad. I am mad.

Mad because when I looked back at my life, there were so many things about it that made me angry.

Could it be resentment? Something I kept repressed for all these years that it has become dormant. Why now? Why reveal it’s self now?

I have everything going good for me. My application to uni is making progress. I have found balance and love and a new thirst for life. Why am I pulled back to it now? I thought to myself.

My childhood. Growing up. Primary school. High school.

Talking about those segments in my life never really go down well with me. Because it was a horrible time for me. One I don’t think I’ve ever addressed on my blog before.

You must think I am being self indulgent and trivial, bringing up things like this now when there are so many other tragedies happening across the world. The swine flu. The riots. The genocide in Darfur.

All these events that are probably worth bringing to your attention more than reading about a 22 year-old who is considerably privileged and has things that people in other parts of the world yearn to have.

And yet I can’t stop myself from typing. From unearthing the past that I thought I have kept hidden. Forgotten. Forgiven.

I guess I haven’t.

You see, high school was a terrible time in my development. At a time when teenagers are supposed to start to growing into their own being, I was stuck, lost and uncertain of what I was.

I guess most people feel that way and it isn’t unheard of. This probably won’t even shock you. Or even cause you to raise an eyebrow.

I was teased a lot at school. I was called names. I was labeled. Bullied. Judged. I was put into a box, a category, a mold and people regarded me as nothing. As no one. As a person who was worth nothing and will probably become nothing.

I know I am not nothing. I know that I have become somebody and my objective with this post is not to drag you into my hole of insecurity and self-doubt.

I am not blogging to complain that I am a nobody. I AM a somebody. And I know that. There is no hole of self-doubt and I am not about to become some recluse who shuts off everyone.

No.

The point of this isn’t to tell you that I had a sucky time growing up in school. The point of this isn’t to gain your sympathy.

The point of this post is to finally deal with the things, the people, the situations that made me feel small.

The point of this post is so I can meet face-to-face with the inner demons, the voices in my head that clouded my judgment, shattered my confidence. The ones that told me that I couldn’t do anything.

This is me facing those who have crossed me in my early years. The confrontation I never got to have.

I was never angry or mad at those people who treated my like crap. I never held grudges. And I never had any feelings of resentment towards them then. I never felt the need to retaliate.

But now I do. But now I feel rage. I feel angry. At those who did the things they did. And I don’t know why its coming now but it is.

I hate you.

For making me feel like I was worth nothing. For telling me things that I know aren’t true. For shoving dirt in my face. For literally kicking me around. For laughing at me. For making my life then a living hell. For always being that infuriating voice in my head, telling me I am shit. Calling me names. Calling me a pussy. A fag.

I had so much potential. I could have been the best and yet you took that away from me. Instead of focusing on my strengths you brought out my weaknesses and paralyzed me with it. Until I was so sure then that I couldn’t do anything. That my dreams meant squat. Meant nothing to you.

You said you lost hope in me but you made me lose hope in myself.  You made me think that I was never any good and that I should just give up. Give up on life, like you did.

Well I am not like you. You can only drown in your pain but I rose from that. I have become a better person because of what you did to me.  It took me a long time to get to this point but I have. And I am proud of me. Proud that I took my life into my own hands. With the support from loved ones and spiritual guidance, I managed to piece together parts of me that you shattered. Parts of me that you broke.

I never ever said anything before but I am done keeping this to myself. I hate you. I hate that I allowed you and your manipulative ways get to me. I hate that you somehow got under my skin and made me feel pathetic and I let you.

So fuck you and your life cause you sure fucked up mine,”

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