Memento Mori

Metamorphosis

As the wind turns and picks up a leaf to take it on its own journey, the same are our lives and mine. It al begun when i was child: My dad and my mom broke up before my birth. His present for my mom as I was born: a cactus. I love him, very dearly. My stepdad took his place. well not really place, he merely existed in my life as a puzzle piece that doesn’t really fit in, but was good enough to give the false image of an complete picture. He argued a lot with my mother, more than once it woke me up and let me experience fear, i didnt wanted to see them fight. He had problems, alcohol, gambling and other drugs. His chase for small pleasures ended one night in an accident where he bleed on the kitchen, the Ofen, the floor, cleaned with the red liquid of life and death. I cant remember much about that night. One time they argued, he told me and me and my brother at that time :” I’m going to take you on a journey” The destination was intended to be a tree, a lake, whatever thing you have in mind when you think about an intended death. Luckily, it just ended passing out on the floor, drunk. My life turned around again as my dad, when I visited every weekend, never visited me again. At the age of 6, the devil or maybe just the reasons of desperation unfolded. He never came back. I never saw him ever again. He left shortly after I moved to another city, left my friends behind, i was too young, no phones or numbers. After he left, I only remembered bits and pieces. The school sucked, only had 2 friends, and i didnt do much with them. There was one incident I remember, dont ask me how I got into this but, some people knocked on our door one day and demanded to know where my aunt was. My mom obviously didn’t know, didn’t stopped them from choking her while she was pregnant right in front of me. Things luckily ended well again. After that I don’t remember much anymore. Loud arguing, but that was it so far. Until we moved again. The baby needed room. The new environment didn’t helped me, it all continued, only worse. No friends, only two people I sometimes visited. My introversion grew and grew, my grades only went down. The loud arguing continued, as the drinking too. One day I never forget Was, where he went into the kitchen, talking with himself about how it was his child and no one should take it. It is ironic how he was the one who took it from himself. After he went out of the kitchen, he had a knive in his hand. Went up to the room where my mom slept, my mom and my brother and me where in it. Knocking on the door, hammering on it, with a knive and without. He managed to get it in somehow. I only remember bits and pieces. I remember that I cried and told him that he was scaring me. I think i was 11 or 12 honestly im not sure. He eventually went down again with my mom, i think she could calm him. My brother and I where still upstairs. Eventually he up again. He said that me and my brother should go down too or he stabs us both. So we did. It ended with my mom calling his mother to pick us up. We flew out of the house. He didn’t followed us luckily. We stayed at my grandmas house for a day, we came back to the house the next day. Plants broken and on the floor, glass on the table. Sometimes the wind puts the leaf in water and it drowns or not. He apologized to us, said we don’t have to fear him. Said it would never happen again. It did happen again. Luckily without anything sharp. Just kicked in drawers, thrown coffe makers and so on. From this time forward it got atleast lighter, police came more than once to our house in my life. After that, it was just mindless drinking, gambling, and loud arguing. Drunken nights and so on. One day, where it happened again, he seemed to make the decision to leave us. He looked for another apartment and moved out. I’m not gonna lie, it was the best day in my life. Shortly after, my mom met another guy, stubborn hot-headed guy, but still. He had the heart at the right spot. I like him. He helped my mom really much, for which I am grateful. My introversion grew into social anxiety or social phobia as I like to call it. Now it is myself who ruins my own plans, which makes me doubt myself, hate myself, isolate myself and so on. And now I’m still living in the same house, you can still see some dents and holes in the door from the knive. I can see it everyday. I feel like im just moving in circles, finding a job seems impossible, i keep sabotaging myself. Jobs with a lot of people are hard to do for me. I’m scared. When someone looks at me while I do something, I can feel the eyes drilling through me, their assumptions about me feel true. I’m dumb, lazy, can’t do anything right, without skill, without anything remarkable. To wrap this up, I’m scared of every move I do, scared of every step into the unknown and known. This feels like a hell that has been made for me, and I was the one who entered it by myself. Thank you to all of those who’ve read it this far. I appreciate the time you invested in reading this far. Hope i didn’t wasted your time. Have a good day, may your loved ones never forget your name. Thank you.