My Insignificant Tale

Hello to you all. I am DarknessIncarnate. This is not my real name but my tale is real I can assure you.

How do I start? I suppose it started when I was in Primary. In my years in my primary school I was never able to make any friends asides from two people. One had the surname of Holmes and the other of Dell. Let’s call them H (for Holmes) and D (for Dell). My first friend was H, and we never really were that far apart from one another. We were close friends and always enjoyed more abstract, imaginative games. Often involving crossing together multiple franchises such as Star Wars, Pokémon, Pirates of the Carrabien and Ben 10. I was and still am quite clumsy and slow to grasp on to things. Which often lead to us temporarily falling out. But it began to fade after incidents. The first was a horrible bully who to this day is still a major a-hole. Once I was walking with my friends home with my friend, and the bully- who had the surname of Vernon so let’s call him V- called out to us. I asked him politely what he wanted and he punched me in the face hard, giving me a black eye. He then ran off and to this day not remember all he ever did to me. Not the black eye, the hundreds of times he’d squeeze my head until I squealed in pain only for no one to believe me, nor the thousands of times he’d hit me with Basketballs, Footballs, and spherical objects in general all over my body but generally around my ribs, spine and head. I remember all he did to me. I remember each and every second of the pain. And he remembers none. The second incident was at the time of a Christmas fair. I was assisting a stall with H and on the day it was happening I had forgotten due to a combination of the event occurring on a Saturday and a new lifetime of terrible memory and chronic headaches thanks to V squeezing my skull, usually around the Temples, until I squealed in pain because it amused him. Around the same time I formed a friendship with D due to us both watching the Annoying Orange videos on YouTube. We would always talk about it and I once went to his house and we talked and watched the episode of Doctor Who where the Dalek escaped and after a killing spree killed itself because it gained emotions besides it usual hate. But we never really clicked like me and H. But in a strange twist D and H clicked, and became good friends easily. The rest of what happened after those incidents are as follows: my teachers became more and more sexist- a girl did something bad and they got of with a soft slap on the wrist. A boy did something naughty equal in badness to the girl and they were shouted at, humiliated and given a week long detention in front of the class- a few girls arrived at the school and became bullys quick, and no teachers stopped them but if anyone retaliated we were severely told off. And this is the time the first voice in my head started. The time HE was ‘born’. But the voice was subtle, like a whisper, and weak, waiting for what fed it and made it strong-fear, anger, hatred and paranoia.

Then my time at that place ended and I went to the secondary school I chose. Oh, how I Loathe that place.
As soon as I arrived I was bullied. Why? You may wonder, but the answer is somewhat simple. I was too different. I was small, a little chubby, socially and emotionally inexperienced and awkward. They called me many names and would not relent or give me a moments peace. No one would listen to me and the school lied when they said they would deal with it. And HE, the voice, grew. But was still weak. Then Year 8 came. It was mostly the same story only the bullying increased by around 42% and I developed a crush on a girl from my primary who was in my year. Her surname was Bennet so let’s call her B. After a couple months I forcibly removed my feelings but they still remain slightly. Next in Year 9 I developed a large crush on a girl who had been nice to me in Year 8. So it kind of started there. Her surname was Beaumont, so let’s call her B*. I would always be thinking of her. She never left my mind, and the idea of someone to love and end my loneliness silenced the voice. Made it powerless. I would always laugh when she made a joke, even when it was horrifically bad, and I always tried to complement her when I could. I then got Facebook and thought if I could discover her likes and dislikes and made them my likes and dislikes I’d stand a chance. But alas, her type was more that of V. She would always be with the self-righteous a-holes who used their tall size and violent nature to intimidate others. They were brawn, I am brain. After a few days of messaging her over Facebook she told me I was annoying and to go away. This hurt me. The only person to care about my stupid existence and now she hated me too. This lead to an unsuccessful suicide attempt that no one nows about. I took a large pair of scissors and cut open a wire large enough to stick my tongue coated in saliva in a hope to electrocute myself. Since someone is reading this a few years later the results are obvious. I then continued my pathetic life but I had developed severe Depression. It wasn’t until a much later suicide attempt that it was noticed and diagnosed. I managed to befriend two people, a person with the surname Avery. We shall call him A. And a person with the surname of Baxter. Let’s call him ‘B. Me and A clicked a bit due to our sci-fi knowledge and interests, but we didn’t click like me and ‘B. And mirroring primary A and ‘B clicked better. But we talked a lot about theories, alternative timelines, parallel universes and paradoxes. It was around a few minutes after the unsuccessful self electrocution the voice returned and HE was stronger. Another of the reasons I was bullied in Secondary was the fact I had hit Puberty but my voice to the day I published this still has not broken. It’s gone high but it won’t properly ‘break’ and go into a deeper tone like the rest of the male population. That and the fact I refuse to stick to the hypocritical views of society. I refuse to conform to gender stereotypes of ‘the Real Man’ and I refuse to ‘Man Up/Be a Man’. I refuse to accept all the criticisms about my gender define me. I’m not a pig. I’m not obsessed with sex. I’m not tall. I’m not rich. I’m not handsome. I’m not ripped.
Ok.
I don’t fit the Hollywood expectations that surround everyone.
I’m chubby because I have an incredibly slow metabolism. I eat a crumb and gain a pound. I have tried desperately to loose weight and nothing works. Not dieting not exercise not starving myself. Nothing. I also hate how the opposite gender gets stereotyped too. I don’t understand why they are told by society to be thin and hairless. Both men AND women are meant to be chubby. If hair grows there natural then just leave it alone. Well wash it and that but my point is people are being told to deface their own bodies and are told that anyone who doesn’t fit the gender stereotypes is wrong and should be shunned. Everyone is beautiful. Ugliness is a stupid concept that belongs in the Prehistoric times with Cavemen. It belongs with the Proto-Humans we evolved from. It’s outdated and ridiculous. It ruins lives and takes away souls. Rant over. Sorry, I had been holding that in for a while. Sorry where was I? Erm… oh yeah! Now I remember. In year 9 the bullies stepped up their game. Along with insults and some physical damage they now took to throwing bits of metal at me. It hurt but the bullying stopped around the end of Year 9. Then year 10 started. I mostly kept to myself. But I remember one day during P.E. I was having a conversation with the voice in my head. HE was just now strong enough to take control of my body for a short time. 30 seconds at most. And HE wanted a name, something to define him. Make him stronger. Help him make his way into the light of reality. I was sitting under a tree in the shade because as HE grew stronger light hurt my eyes intensely. It was a bright day and a few girls headed over to me and questioned me about why I was on my own. I couldn’t tell them the truth because it would change how they viewed me, a lonely little human, a waste of flesh, forever. That or I didn’t want to tell them. I forget. Anyhow, they were there asking me stuff. Their names were Kyra, Grace, Molly, Hannah, and two other people. I can’t recall their surnames, mostly because they were sort of eccentric like the B* girl I fancied. They pretended one of them had a crush on me and due to the fact I was on the edge of the metaphorical abyss I believed them out of blind hope I could return to humanity. But, as it always is, they lied! They took my dying heart, ignited its final smouldering Sparks and just as it began to give off heat they dumped it in a metaphorical bucket of sub-zero water. They played with my dying humanity and love for their own amusement. And that is how the doorway opened for the voice to become a permanent fixture in my life. Always present. Always degrading. Never lying, never lying. As HE grew in strength a few other voices joined. Some support him. Some deny him. The rest either focus on something more important or remain mostly neutral. Then year 11 came and along with it one failed suicide attempt, several failed attempts at cutting myself- I could press hard but I was too weak to slice-, odd activities since November 2014, and last but not least diagnosis of me having: severe depression, High Anxiety, Autism, and that’s about it. HE is good at hiding himself so they do not know of him. In November I met with an old friend and we, well, partook in taking an illegal substance. I felt happiness for once in a long, long time. Over the course of then to now I took the substance again and again until finally making the decision to quit a few days ago. A few days ago I decided I would take it one last time before quitting forever. However, partway into the occasion I was laying down when I started to cough violently. I went outside for fresh air when my body forcibly emptied my stomach of its contents. I was stuck standing there waiting for someone to pass me a paper towel so I could clean myself up. Sadly they had gathered a large bucket of high strength bleach and poured it over the area. The bleach, stomach acid, bread and whatever chemicals were present caused a reaction which formed a incredibly toxic gas. Which I forcibly inhaled for a few minutes before my survival instincts kicked in and kicked me out of there. I could only get half a metre away before holing myself in a corner whilst yelling and coughing in intense pain that I requested the Removal/dilution of the bleach. Though not so formal and politely. By the time it was diluted enough to pass through I had nearly gone unconscious. I was then helped down a lot of stairs before getting into fresh air. After a long while trying to breathe properly I managed to successfully breathe for more then 3 seconds without violently coughing. Needless to say my last time left an impression. It was around this time that HE, the voice, managed to get a befitting name. HE was there for as long as I can remember. HE never left and never lied. HE was alway truthful even though it was a truth I wanted to ignore. HE is T?nëbrøs, The Darkness Incarcerated. HE has no true form, but is everywhere and eternal.

This is my tale, well it’s what I can remember. I know there is more pain I haven’t mentioned. More suicide attempts that haven’t been said. More anger and heartbreak than I have mentioned. But this is almost 2300 words. And my memory has been impaired for so long I cannot remember when it worked properly. I can’t even remember most of my family and friends names.
This is my tale.
This is my life.
And I often think, what higher being would allow this? This is why I’m atheist. That and the fact I can’t stand the thought of an afterlife with those who hurt me and led me to madness. My username is DarknessIncarnate. My surname is Safe. This has been my tale, and I thank you for reading it.