Yep it’s me. Again. It’s been a while, wasn’t it?
It’s about three months since I officially stopped blogging. Or f I say it correctly, since I officially said that I will stop blogging. I did share with you a few, spill out posts and I think that this is what I will sometimes still do. I think that this is what I am doing now.
And I have my reasons. We all have at last one reason for standing where we are, looking wherever we are looking, even if we don’t know it ourselves. Sometimes we don’t know them because we don’t want to. In every true we do know them, but we just leave them hanging, away from our sights, because they too terrible to…catch onto. And we are lost. And afraid.
So right now, I am going to tell you a story. I feel like I owe it too you, if you happen to be one of those small group of people who knows me in real life and also knows for this blog. I owe it too you if you are someone who kept reading my blog, even when it wasn’t in it’s best. I owe to tell this story too you…whoever you are, reading this. You must of found this crappy place in the whole internet for a reason right?
But I warn you. This story is no fairy tale. It’s more of a horror story.
I don’t know exactly how old I was, but I was still in kindergarten, so I was probably around 4 or 5. If you follow my blogging you probably know that I was bullied. I have always told you that I felt lonely till I met Ananya. But this is not the whole story.
The whole truth is that I was always a happy child. And I was lonely, but I don’t ever remember feeling…sadness. I was happy. But I was angry. I was terribly angry, but I don’t remember screaming or crying because of it. All I remember is that I often wanted my mum to buy me a Barbie doll. But I didn’t play with it like all other little girls probably did.
I would cut of their fingers. I would pull of their heads. I would paint them red, red like blood. I wouldn’t made them wear pretty dresses and make them marry a prince. I would play torment. I would play slowly killing them within all my anger.
My parents never found out. I was always good at hiding things. I had special places where I kept destroyed toys. But this is not when it ends… I also remember that I tried to torture living beings like animals. Over years I dropped that. But that doesn’t mean…it was gone. When I became more self aware, I started writing gore stories. Literally. And I would talk to myself. And a bunch of others creepy things.
And all this sounds-I know-totally crazy. Because it is crazy, right? What kind of normal child would do such things? I didn’t know the answer on that. My mind wouldn’t stop looking for the answer, but in the same time it was enjoying sadistic thoughts. And after I thought about it… It might be the one reason for my anxiety. I was scared. I was paranoid. I was scared out of my mind that I am going insane.
And I didn’t even knew. I kept telling myself that I am not crazy. I kept believing that flashbacks of my sadistic acts are just some kind of a dream. I have put myself in a small box of perfection and convinced myself that there is nothing wrong with my mind. And I believed in a lie.
But. This story doesn’t have an ending yet. But the last chapter that was written had a happy ending. Why? You obviously won’t believe it, but…what if a horror turned into a love story?
Because Leo. You know? It’s because we have something inside us, so alike. That. Insanity. That pulled-off thoughts.
And I think that I was on the edge of going totally insane. Dangerously insane. But i didn’t loose it. My mind. And the reasons why I told him this story is because he knows how is to be a sadistic creep. And…if we already are sadistic creeps, why can’t we be sadistic creeps together?
And it was all because he understood. It was all because he listened. He heard that story. He knows that I am no angel, more a devil. He didn’t leave. He is still here, he’s still with me. And he still loves me, even with my rotten and insane part. Because this is what love is about, right? You want someone, you want them so badly with all that they are, without perfection. And for the mess they live in, you love them even far more.
And…do you know how is to feel insane? Imagine two beings. Kind doesn’t matter. There is a glassy wall between them. One is killing someone and laughing like a crazy maniac. The other one is shouting, crying and punching the glassy wall, telling the first one to stop the terrible act. But the first one just don’t care, he doesn’t even look at him. And if the second brakes the wall, the psycho one gets angry because he was disturbed. So he attacks the scared one. And the psychotic one is powerful, fearless, invincible. Other one is just scared crybaby. So the psychotic kills him. What happens. Only the psychotic is left. And he has no wall to keep him locked. He is free.
And those two little beings nearly meet each other in my head. The wall was so thin already… But now the wall is thick and powerful. It’s not going to brake. As long as Leo helps me hold it. And I’m helping him with his.
I hope you aren’t angry because I was hiding that for so long…but trust me, even I didn’t know it was there. Okay? If I would I would spill it out sooner. So I guess I just say that…I’m sorry? So thank you. I love you.
In one point we all discover that we all have a part of us, so dark, and so rotten we just cannot explain. This is mine rotten part. What’s yours?
The story above is the truth, my truth. If you adore it or not.I don’t expect any positive reactions on this kind of post, so I guess that it probably really is my every last one.
But I like the ending you know?
As my best friend ever said once: not perfect, not magical…