Entry for October Obessions
Desire
It all started when I was in grade 3, a burning desire to become stronger and more powerful...
After getting beaten up countlessly and kicked around by the older grades, something snapped deep within the back of my mind, why was I so weak? why was I so frail? how is it that I couldn't stand up to people that couldn't see me any different because I just wanted to be myself?
That's when it all began, my so called "training". I started researching the martial arts and methods of assassination that were the most simple and the most effective. I aquired a desire and lust to become stronger almost to a point it consumed my life, it became my obsession... I fed off the hate and the lack of power I never had to become something less of a human because no one would respect me, no one would ever care that I was a human being...they just saw me as an excuse to kick something around...
I wouldn't stand it any longer, I had to become more powerful and more feared against the people that laughed and mocked at me, even if it meant isolating myself from everyone. It all grew to a point where I nearly joined the Canadian Forces in order to seek the power to protect I truly needed, even if it meant costing me my life. I didn't care if the ones that loved me worried for me or didn't want me to go, I just knew somewhere in the back of my mind what I wanted and what I needed...
The desire isn't so much a desire any more because of two friends that both begged and pleaded me not to go, she told me that my heart didn't belong in a soul-less killing machine, that I should question my reasons for protecting something, protecting her sister and protecting those around me. I'm still left questioning the 22 years of hate, power and manipulation my abusive father left me with and what he meant by to live without emotions in the world...
By nature, I'm a trained killer, but by their eyes and hearts a kind and gentle soul exists...
I'm left to question what's there to truly believe...maybe I'll never know the answer or then again, maybe I will...
All I know is I have the both of them to thank...
Prologue:
I remember being severely mentally and physically beaten by my father when I was 4-6 years old, not to the point where I couldn't stand but enough to fear him for 22 years of my life...I grew up remembering the tears in my mother's eyes and watching her suffer at the hands of my father because she was powerless to stop him. No matter how hard she begged and pleaded, it was never enough for him to "discipline" us thoroughly, imagine being smacked by an open palm the size of your head by a person that's 10x the size of you when your a child, having your ears squeezed then pulled downward till your head is dragging towards the ground...if punishment by force wasn't enough for him, being whacked by an added slipper or belt just added insult to injury due to a father's violent nature...
Me and my mother lived in fear up until recently...even now with my father still more chaotic then ever, my brother has chosen to accept my father's abusive ways while I have chosen to side with my mother's innocence...it wasn't too long ago in regards to an incident that I remember laying in bed half-awake only to shoot up with my mother screaming at the top of her lungs with my father chasing her around the kitchen mentally and emotionally abusing her.
And this...is just the tip of the iceberg, my relatives were the same, if not worse...imagine being invited to parties only for them to talk about your past if it was just some episode of America's Funniest Home Videos, laugh at it, while they torture you about how worthless you've been. In their eyes they call it "growing up" but to the one that had to re-live nightmares at EVERY SINGLE PARTY...it became more then just a historical venture, it became abuse, harassment, it became torture because I had to go home every night and re-live those memories...to both my mother's and father's sides of the family, I was the poster child, the child that people just saw as "one of two sons that they praised and held in high regard" they didn't see the pain, the sorrow in my eyes...they didn't see what they were putting me through despite I countlessly begged them to stop..but they just continued...
All because "we've grown up, I don't see why you can't accept what we're doing to use it to make yourself stronger..."
my father's side of the family are pretty much corporate bastards working for some bank firm or some high paying company like an airline division like Air Canada...they expect me to be one of the ones that treat others like crap, because to them, that is life...to them, treating people like crap is how you get by in the world...
just thinking about the memories...everything's that happened up to this point...
It's gotten so bad to the point now where sometimes I can't eat, I can't sleep...my body trembles at the thought of what might happen next...
I just don't know...anymore...
It all started when I was in grade 3, a burning desire to become stronger and more powerful...
After getting beaten up countlessly and kicked around by the older grades, something snapped deep within the back of my mind, why was I so weak? why was I so frail? how is it that I couldn't stand up to people that couldn't see me any different because I just wanted to be myself?
That's when it all began, my so called "training". I started researching the martial arts and methods of assassination that were the most simple and the most effective. I aquired a desire and lust to become stronger almost to a point it consumed my life, it became my obsession... I fed off the hate and the lack of power I never had to become something less of a human because no one would respect me, no one would ever care that I was a human being...they just saw me as an excuse to kick something around...
I wouldn't stand it any longer, I had to become more powerful and more feared against the people that laughed and mocked at me, even if it meant isolating myself from everyone. It all grew to a point where I nearly joined the Canadian Forces in order to seek the power to protect I truly needed, even if it meant costing me my life. I didn't care if the ones that loved me worried for me or didn't want me to go, I just knew somewhere in the back of my mind what I wanted and what I needed...
The desire isn't so much a desire any more because of two friends that both begged and pleaded me not to go, she told me that my heart didn't belong in a soul-less killing machine, that I should question my reasons for protecting something, protecting her sister and protecting those around me. I'm still left questioning the 22 years of hate, power and manipulation my abusive father left me with and what he meant by to live without emotions in the world...
By nature, I'm a trained killer, but by their eyes and hearts a kind and gentle soul exists...
I'm left to question what's there to truly believe...maybe I'll never know the answer or then again, maybe I will...
All I know is I have the both of them to thank...
Prologue:
I remember being severely mentally and physically beaten by my father when I was 4-6 years old, not to the point where I couldn't stand but enough to fear him for 22 years of my life...I grew up remembering the tears in my mother's eyes and watching her suffer at the hands of my father because she was powerless to stop him. No matter how hard she begged and pleaded, it was never enough for him to "discipline" us thoroughly, imagine being smacked by an open palm the size of your head by a person that's 10x the size of you when your a child, having your ears squeezed then pulled downward till your head is dragging towards the ground...if punishment by force wasn't enough for him, being whacked by an added slipper or belt just added insult to injury due to a father's violent nature...
Me and my mother lived in fear up until recently...even now with my father still more chaotic then ever, my brother has chosen to accept my father's abusive ways while I have chosen to side with my mother's innocence...it wasn't too long ago in regards to an incident that I remember laying in bed half-awake only to shoot up with my mother screaming at the top of her lungs with my father chasing her around the kitchen mentally and emotionally abusing her.
And this...is just the tip of the iceberg, my relatives were the same, if not worse...imagine being invited to parties only for them to talk about your past if it was just some episode of America's Funniest Home Videos, laugh at it, while they torture you about how worthless you've been. In their eyes they call it "growing up" but to the one that had to re-live nightmares at EVERY SINGLE PARTY...it became more then just a historical venture, it became abuse, harassment, it became torture because I had to go home every night and re-live those memories...to both my mother's and father's sides of the family, I was the poster child, the child that people just saw as "one of two sons that they praised and held in high regard" they didn't see the pain, the sorrow in my eyes...they didn't see what they were putting me through despite I countlessly begged them to stop..but they just continued...
All because "we've grown up, I don't see why you can't accept what we're doing to use it to make yourself stronger..."
my father's side of the family are pretty much corporate bastards working for some bank firm or some high paying company like an airline division like Air Canada...they expect me to be one of the ones that treat others like crap, because to them, that is life...to them, treating people like crap is how you get by in the world...
just thinking about the memories...everything's that happened up to this point...
It's gotten so bad to the point now where sometimes I can't eat, I can't sleep...my body trembles at the thought of what might happen next...
I just don't know...anymore...