Setting Free
by Deviation
by Deviation
How does one start a story? Where does one begin? Well for my story it always begins at the fundamental question: Where am I going and why am I here. I guess my story begins when I was very young. I thought nothing much of the world. I merely glanced at it and it was there in my view. I mean how do you expect a child to know the qualms of a grown up? One only knows so much as to what they can only view life through a limited lense. As a child I knew only of child problems like what is for dinner and what do I wear? As one grows older those problems become much more complicated and intricate. No more are the simple questions of what it is but now become what may be. But before I bore you to death in logic let me begin at where my story begins or at least where I feel it begins.
As a child I never quite fit in. We were always moving around and I never gave myself a chance to make any friends. My mother made it even harder since she has always been overprotective of me. I lashed out at anyone I could swing my fists at. But even then I always felt there was something different. Was it how I thought or how I talked? Though try as I may to let it rest, no one ever let me forget. Growing up I was always called a ***. I tried my best to fit into the image they wanted of me. Being shoved into lockers and beaten till there was naught left of me became the norm. I was essentially all alone. I was caught in my own private hell because of these thoughts. What I thought wasn't what everyone wanted me to think or feel. I was supposed to be this cookie-cutter, straight man who fervently loved women. Don't get me wrong though. I think women are the most beautiful creatures known to man but I don't see them as people say that I should. And for a long time, I tried. Believe me I tried playing the part and fooling even my own self.
But eventually you come to a point where you have to take a stand. That alone should inspire a man to rise up and yell at the rooftops. To gain one's independence and take back his flag. However I still struggled. I stumbled and fell so hard that I became my own enemy. Pretending something I didn't feel I was and being what everyone thought I should be. And for a time, I thought I was happy because everyone was happy. I mean that is all we want for our loved ones no? To make them happy and proud of us. With time I fell into a trap of my own sadness and emptiness. I became a shell with no feelings. I wasn't allowed to have them because they were wrong according to everyone else. Then when I least expected someone changed my mind. He told me it was alright and that I shouldn't be afraid. Life is worth living and we spend too much time worrying about things we can't control. With a newfound sense of confidence I rose up and claimed what was mine, my humanity. I was happy for the first time in my life and one I will still remember for the rest of my life. But what came afterwards I did not expect and one I still am haunted of. I didn't consider what people in school would think nor what were their opinions. After all these were the people who seemed happy and accepting right? I failed in seeing the monsters they became when I came out.
Not even halfway done with the semester and I had already been to the emergency room with broken bones and a broken spirit. These people I looked up to and had a heart for broke it to pieces in less time it took me to gain their trust all these years. No more were the happy smiles upon their faces. It had turned to angry looks and sneaky backstabbing. The warm hearts I once met had become these cold, callous facades which once were so warm and caring. Even the teachers I looked for guidance and acceptance became the accomplices of many tragedies. What gave them the right to treat me like they did? I guess they didn't really like me after all. In a short time I plummeted into an abyss that had become my life. No more was the facade of a happy, cheery teenager. So many times in those dark ages did death claim my soul. I thought that ending my life was the answer and that would make everyone happy. They didn't need me anymore and I couldn't be what they wanted me to be. But someone...someone thought I mattered. Someone thought that life had something better for me. He picked me up and took me far away. He held my hand told me everything was going to be fine and that there ARE people who care. And thanks to him and his family, I now have a place to call home and real friends who love me for who I am. I consider them my real family since my own never really cared. Thanks to the people who loved me without asking anything in return. I owe them much and nothing less of gratitude. Though now I still feel sad sometimes I am never alone.
