Pieces (Patreon)

Well my dears, this is my last post for the day, and with that I wanted it to end on perhaps a little bit of thought for yourselves, and closer look into myself. For those of you that have followed me for some time, you are probably aware of my views when it comes to how we respond let alone view individuals who appear rude, aggressive, and even terrible. Some perhaps may wonder why I ask especially of patience, and to counteract hate with love.

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I've never quite been the best with people, believe it or not. When it came to home life, I had two brothers and three sisters between my parent's divorce. The circumstance left my father at a crossroads with me, and he often commented how I reminded him of her. This lead to a particular alienation from my father, as well my brothers. I hardly even knew my sisters and still don't for the matter. I never quite managed friends all that well in school, and the additions of special services classes for my needs left another form of difference between myself and other children.

 By the time I had reached middle school, my views and opinions of peers had been if anything mystifying. I'd had my first fights, and dealt with both mental and in minor cases physical altercations with my father and his family which left myself feeling both unsafe and further isolated. Art had became my main source of relief and escape, however I often found myself arguing, even fighting with others as I continued to try and discover what I wanted.

My own past is littered with many terrible words and fighting. I've hurt people, then they hurt me. It was the only life I could comprehend really, and eventually it came down to others telling me to kill myself. My self esteem felt destroyed, and just being around anyone I often felt humiliation or guilt that I was a bad person or that all I did was take away. So before my first year of sixth grade had been up, I attempted suicide. It was quite the secret failure.

I was terrified, and in great irony, all I wanted was to feel like I existed, that I was not a ghost that only appeared to people when they had terrible things to say. So I went on, and developed a terrible thought " I'll stay until the day I die any other way. That's my punishment to everyone. " for a long time the only thing that kept me going was bitter anger, resentment, and cynicism. I hadn't even realized that all this time during middle school, I had developed clinical depression. Words got to me more than ever, and all I kept telling myself was " None of them matter. They don't matter. Their words don't matter. " bit by bit a piece of myself slipping away.

Dears. Words do matter. They have as much meaning as we give them, whether we say otherwise to others and ourselves or not. The worst cuts of them come from hate, and only kindness heals. There are terrible people out there. Those that lash out at others, or just lose themselves. Deep down inside though for some, there is not happiness and pleasure but something far worse that erodes away at one's self. I know this because I was one of those people, and every single fight, every insult, every misunderstanding and aggressive stance, inside I was begging for peace, I just never knew when to stop.

I felt afraid. I just never knew a world where I wasn't. So I hated, and I feared.

Heck I'm still afraid, because you feel pieces of yourself are cracked from the experience. If you've seen " The Garden " then you understand fully how deep that conditioning goes, and how twisted it becomes.

I'm still growing, and just like you I'm only expanding as a person. Always will. I ask you however as a friend, as a good person...do your best today. Do your best tomorrow to show love, patience, understanding, and empathy. For those of us who are so lost, it's a beacon, and it's dark where we come from.

Stay safe everyone, and may good health find you.