A young child goes from a happy life of love and fun to a dark world of pain, terror and unhappiness. The fabric of his existence breaks down and he begins to create a new world. A world where he still feels important. A world where he is still loved. A world like that which he yearns for. But something is wrong. He feels an attachment to the dark world still so he tries to do whatever he can to escape that feeling. No matter what he tries, he feels the dark torture of his real life gain a stronger hold till it strangles him. And then he is lost between worlds like a voyeur looking in on life through a window. He can watch but he no longer feels like part of it. In terror he realizes that he is trapped for now nothing feels truly real anymore.
When I was young, I lived with a mom and a dad and a brother. I also had a house servant, and an extended family that spanned continents. It is probably good to know that our house servant came from a family that has served our family for generations. In one country my family lived on a street named after my grandfather. All of the people on the street were my family. In the other country we owned all the property that the farmers used to grow their crops. Both countries are third world and it was expected that it should be that way. We came from a caste system in which we were not the highest, but were high enough. I don’t remember happiness though I am told I was happy. I remember being raised by a non-family member. I was born here so I didn’t have the benefit of being surrounded by castes. I remember missing mom and dad. I remember lots of things but I don’t remember happiness. When I was in elementary school my parents split. They may not have formally split, but the chasm between them fell into place. Other than that I don’t remember the rest of elementary school other than little things here and there and a feeling of being an outsider and apart from the other kids. I remember a lot of home life though. I remember violence, and fear. I remember remorse and building walls. I remember sadness and crying and a dream to get away from it all. The descent into madness had started and I was a willing participant.
In junior high school I had built my walls and structured my world. In it I was important and what I did mattered but I still always felt like I was watching it. I think it was here at about age 12-13 where I decided I didn’t want to be like certain aspects of my parents. It was also here where I started gearing specific aspects of my life towards having a child. I swore myself to celibacy until I found the right person. I didn’t make it but I did last till after I graduated from High school. But I still felt like I was outside looking in and I did things…bad things….things that no child should ever do….Things that made me feel alive for a moment at a time.
High School was a nightmare. In my freshmen year I carried a snub-nosed 38 special revolver with me. But I was in a snobby school so when they caught me they said “Don’t do it again” and my parents signed a paper saying that we wouldn’t talk about it. Hiding the fact that a child had brought a gun to school for almost a whole year was more important than fixing the child. After that I was suspended a few times, did the standard drug experimentation and then did other stuff. I still was an outsider to others and to myself. I was still trapped on the outside. I still was looking for a way back in.
