I was the loner. The one no one saw or noticed. I was invisible. The dirt beneath their feet and no one saw how it affected me. How much I hated them. How much I hated myself. I still don’t know how they could have been so blind. However, now they see how wrong they were about me, now that I’m locked up in this hospital for however long it takes for the doctors to declare me depression and suicidal free. They’re in for a long wait though because I had 5 years to deal with my problems alone. The only reason they finally saw was because I didn’t want to deal with it alone, but instead of helping me my family just threw me to the wolves and left me to be picked apart by strangers. How kind of you my dear relatives. If only I could see you again so I can spit your so-called kindness back in your faces. If I knew that this would be what you’d do when I came begging for help and much needed attention, I would have crawled back into the dark hole that I know as my mind and withered there till the end of days or until I felt you could be trusted. I think we both know which would have come first. At least you’ll cry at my funeral for the boy you never bothered to know.
Here I lie strapped to a hospital bed, staring at pristine white walls and ceiling, regretting the day I opened my mouth to you oh Father. Why did I ever think you would help me? The son you never wanted to gain but had to have in order to marry his mother. Yet I was only four when you came into my life, and now I’m 18. You had fourteen years to build a relationship with me and you did build one. One based on trust and mutual respect. Did what little respect you have for me die when I revealed the secret I held for so many years?
Don’t tell not to disrespect your husband Mother when you allow him to disrespect me. I may be strapped to a chair but clearly I have more dignity than him. I don’t have to bad-mouth a child twenty-odd years my junior to feel masculine. I don’t have to glare at that child silently wishing he was dead. Talk to your husband about his manners, dearest Mother before you come to lecture me about my actions. You did little to help me in that regard for years. Do not come now and start lecturing me. I gave you that chance when I laid my heart and soul in front of you. You didn’t take it, and you allowed those good for nothing doctors to strap me to this bed. I get feed through an IV because I can’t be trusted any where near silverware. I haven’t tried to take my life, yet no one bothers to give me the benefit of the doubt even though I want to get better. I’m not going to resist in anyway. Alas, Mother the doctors here are morons with little experience in proper bedside manner or any manners at all.
Why don’t you leave Mother, Father and return to the children you both obviously still want, and be sure to pay attention to them so they don’t turn out like me. Don’t spoil them though or else they’ll never leave you alone. Hopefully you’ll learn form your mistakes with me. Even though those brats are my half-siblings I’ve come to care about them greatly. They’re almost ten you have a lot of time to treat them well. Take it and exploit it they way you never did with me, and maybe you won’t loose them.
Well they’re finally gone, as gone as they’ll ever be since they are, of course a figment of my imagination. My parents haven’t visited me since they left me here. How wonderfully caring they are! Hopefully I’ll get a couple of hours in peace before the “doctors” show up. Doctors they call themselves. More like over-grown fools with sticks up their asses, can’t even see past their own noses the imbeciles. How I detest them. They can’t even see that I’m not crazy enough to warrant being strapped to a bed and fed through a bloody IV. Clearly these doctors don’t believe that the patient should be able to trust their doctor and not despise them. Or are they doing this to me because of some stupid request given by Mother? Even when I’m an adult Mother dearest somehow finds a way to run my life. Wonderful.
I remember when my problems first started. It was in the last year of middle school, grade eight. The kids were starting to notice that I was different, that I had no friends. They noticed how I walked, talked, and dressed. They spent a lot more time than necessary calling me all sorts of names that I dare not repeat. I started to withdraw further into myself than before. I didn’t talk to anyone. I didn’t raise my hand. I didn’t even talk at home. I started to dress differently too but that only lasted for I month before I got feed up with dressing like a fashion-retard. High school started and I went to a high school as far from my neighbourhood as possible. Things were better there but not by much. It was enough though. I made friends. I found others who were like me. I finally felt like I belonged. I could wear my clothes without feeling worthless. I could even wear my nail polish. I loved grade 9. It didn’t heal the wounds that 8th grade left but I felt freer then ever before.
That summer my parents told me that I could no longer go to that school. At first I thought they were joking, but I soon realized that they weren’t. They told me that they no longer wanted to pay for my bus fare. I told them I’d get a job but they said no. So grade 10 came along and I went to the high school that most of my peers from middle school went to. There the horror from middle school came back to haunt me. Everyone still remembered me and they still enjoyed my life miserable. I suffered in silence for 3 years and then I graduated. I moved out of my parents’ home and into the dorm at the local college. I had been accepted and was more than happy to pay for the dorm room. As long as I didn’t have tot deal with home it wasn’t my problem how expensive it was.
I lasted for a while before I no longer wanted to go there. It seemed that no matter where I went my classmates were there to make it hell. At least I could quit college. I moved back into my parents’ place. They weren’t happy to see me but at least the twins were. After a while thoughts of suicide became more prominent in my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. No matter what I did to distract myself the thoughts were still there. I gave up and went to talk to my Father hoping he could help me. No such luck he immediately told Mother who went and called the local shrink. I was admitted into the local hospital for no reason what so ever. No body even bothered to see how bad I was, if I was even bad.
I’m a failure of the weird system in this town; a place where bullying goes unchecked and those who are bullied can be chucked into a mental hospital with no warning given to the party being thrown under lock and key. Oh how I wish I had never confessed to the strange ongoing of my mind. Nobody would have noticed that I was nuts or suicidal or anything. They would have continued to live their lives with the rose-colored glasses that they love so much.
I should have thought this more thoroughly instead of jumping into it like a fool. I’ll live with this for the rest of my life but rest assured as soon as I get out I will never bear my heart to any soul again. If I do it’ll bite me in the ass even harder than this did.
