Those Negative Experiences

They say you are shaped by the bad experiences. That what does not kill you makes you stronger. That all good things come to those who wait. Don’t wait for good things to come you must fight to get what you want. Travel the path less trodden. There is a fork in the road. A narrow path, and a wide winding path. Choose the most exciting.

I have heard so many contridictating sayings in my life that it can make one explode with uncertainty. But that’s where my experiences come in.

I’ve trodden forward before. I’ve survived bullying, teasing, physical abuse from peers. Verbal abuse from my family. I’ve been hit by cars, I’ve fallen down stairs head first. I’ve sprain my ankle, and charlie horsed. I’ve broken my thumb. And survived looking dead into the sun.I’ve been punched in the face by a male, and claw slapped by a female. I’ve burned myself. And was burned as a young child before I came to the family I’m with. I was abandoned at a hospital. And abandoned when I wanted to really be loved.

My first girlfriend left me. 2yrs we lasted. And we were perfect. !4 and 15 we were like minded and intelligent. She left me for a boy in her neighborhood. I’ve barely survived many soul felt heartbreaks. And a ton of rejection. I’ve survived cat scratches and dog nips. Stubbed toes and wall first runs. I’ve survived family deaths galore. My dad random anger bursts. My mom’s odd verbal throws. I’ve survived tears with my long left close friends. And people I don’t know.

They say I’m strong. I’m courageous, and humble. What they don’t know is I’ve been wanting to die for so long. All these experiences. All the pain. They shaped me. They did.

I’m hyper-vigilant, pessimistic, toddler minded, and sensitive. I’m endearing, And rarely feared. I’m shy though many say “na no you’re not” they don’t know much it hurts inside to try and look people in the eyes, and talk to them. I’m less of a listener and more of a talker. I’m more of a babbler because I was never that good at talking. I like spending time out in my backyard when the sun isn’t too hot and the humidity doens’t take my breathe away vs being inside cleaning in an array of chemical fumes.

I’m a loud laugher, and an even louder talker. I’m a lonely singer, and writer. A depressed abstract artist, and varying music creator. I don’t love myself anymore. And I did used to or maybe I never did. It’s more of a love hate. I love myself and hate myself.

I am intelligent but not as much as I used to be. Bring up the stress and I stutter, bring on the hard work and I stumble. And this heart of mine. Dam mit. This heart loves so much and all it ever wanted to do was share it with another. Keeping it from loving others is like telling a child he cannot go out and play. And when I do love myself after awhile I become empty.

How can I force my heart to stop this “latch on” instinct. What the mind knows the heart it ignores. The heart screams “the one” The mind says no not likely silly thing.

This I have not survived. But it shapes me just like everything else. Since I cannot get what I want. Such a simple thing. I ask that I can be “relieved of duty” from this place.

But i’m sure it will never happen. So I use my fucked up experiences to connect with others and let them know they are not alone in still not wanting to be here, not alone in their experience, and not alone in not knowing what else to do when you’ve done what you are supposed to.

I just make people happy and connect. That’s just about it in the end. They can say they are glad I have survived another year. It brings them peace I guess I have no choice but to continue to suffer from the inside until it finally comes out. If i don’t need to be here then take me away so I am one less leecher of life’s resources. There are plenty of people who need it. What is really one person?