The Boy Who Spoke Little
I always believed that I could be anyone I wanted to be and that that was fine. It could be done and I would be happier. I was wrong.
Why does the world hate me? What have I done to deserve such animosity towards myself? These questions lay hard on my chest every night. Tears run down like a silhouette revealing the energies, the imagery that makes up who I am. No one knows who I am. Nor do you person I’m talking to. Yes you. Hello, we don’t know each other yet but I’m sure with time you’ll understand. I don’t expect you to. After all why the fuck would you care. I’m sorry that was rude. Please don’t go away. I have much to tell you. What’s that you say?
Who am I?
A new born baby and his two parents couldn’t ever be happier. Perhaps this was the happiest moments of their lives up to this point. Maybe it was the worse. What went on in that room could never be farther from the truth and no one will ever know; never will he ever know. The only thing that mattered in that moment was their new born child. A few months later the family was well adjusted in an apartment close to home. Home; home was and has been the same their entire lives. They never went out much, lived and grew up in the same area for as long as they could remember. The mother was a pharmaceutical nurse. Working most days’ nine to five and having the occasional weekend off to spend with her child. His father was a business man and would travel the states where work needed him to be. Needless to say the young boy didn’t get the quality time a child his age should have from his parents. That’s okay though. I do not believe it made a difference to the boy if they were around or not.
Hello again, what are you doing here? That’s right I almost forgot. I’m not ready to let you know who I am yet. Sorry I just don’t trust you. It’s nothing personal at all. I don’t trust anyone, or at least very few. Trust is a hive of bees, beautiful but delicate, requiring ideal conditions in order to thrive. When those conditions are not meant, chaos ensues and the walls that hold my life together, my circle together, crumble. I guess you can say my circle is pretty small. In fact it’s almost non-existent. You cannot trust anyone. I’ve spent considerable amounts of time creating the perfect defense against other humans. Learning not to trust, not to have expectations, never to be ever let down again; I know it’s not the most ideal condition to live with but it has worked for me.
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