I attended a private school from kindergarden to fifth grade and then was immediately tossed into a public school because my mom couldn't afford the tuition. I had become a pacifist by nature so the transition was really rough. I overly trusted those around me and I never reacted with anger to negative abuse. I just shrugged everything off with a smile the way I was taught.
In middle school and for at least a good two years of my life, I was the target of everyone's senseless bullying. Though I never did anything to anyone, when the word got out that I was a pacifist it was hell each day just to go to school. I was punched, snuck, made fun of, had my possessions thrown in the trash and spit on, my shoes spit on, me spit on, and I was jumped twice.
The first time I was jumped they tried to steal my money but I managed to hang on to it. The second time I was jumped I was pinned in by a crowd of people against a brick wall and one black guy had me by the neck. He laughed and jestered as he took a knife out and slowly cut my face. Maybe they would have stopped if I screamed out or something but I was laughing harder than he was (I think I may have snapped or something). There's a permanent scar on my left cheek as a result.
Guess I lied about that soft to larger thing, I think I'll just confess chronologically. There was a time in middle school where I walked into the bathroom and saw five black guys jump some kid in there. Two had him pinned, one gave a speech about how his one friend, "Was one gay motherfucker", and the leader (aka gay motherfucker) moved in to rape him, one was watching the door. I acted as if I didn't see anything and walked out as I normally would. If I overreacted or something, they would have gotten me too. During this time period, I wasn't at all a hero or looked out for anyone. Later on, I saw the kid walk out crying and then the leader came from behind him and snuck him in the head just to add insult to injury. The leader's name was Muhammed and I'm sure everyone knew him.
There was a time where I was in a stall and those guys start slamming on my door and giving me the same speech about how he was gay and wanted to rape me. I ignored everything and just sat there. They tossed wadded toilet paper over the stall and at my face. I'm pretty sure it was piss or something.
I actually became a pretty fucked up kid and started torturing animals or watching animal planet and becoming ellated with seeing when a lion killed another animal. It was always more entertaining to see a baby die and their mother abandon them. Maybe this is why I hate it when people say how kind I am or nice I am these days. Even though I've changed, I can't stand what I've done in the past. I'll always hate myself for my past sins. There's an even worse confession involving my sins here than just torturing or killing innocent animals but that's not for here. It's my deepest, darkest secret and I know that eventually, the time will come where I'll have to atone for it. I won't resist when it finally catches up to me.
During this time period of attending a truly messed up middle school and being the target for much abuse, I also saw pain at home. My mother was with her fourth husband and he was abusive. I stayed in my room as much as I could and developed a habit of doing so. Every night I'd go to sleep to the sounds of things around the house breaking, hitting noises, and screaming. I think the first big break in my rise to confidence was when I got out of the bath tub from hearing my mom crying and him screaming, wrapped a towel around myself, and placed myself between the two of them. She was holding my baby sister at the time and backing into a corner and I vividly remember saying, "I don't care if you're bigger than me or that I'm naked right now. Stay away from my mom." Luckily for me, he backed off from shame.
Despite what you all might be thinking right now, my mother actually isn't so loving. She manipulated me and mentally tortured me. There's a side of my family that truly loves and cares for me and I was always happiest when I visited them and I always cried when my mother tried to take me back with her. Eventually, she twisted my mind so much that she trained me into feeling the opposite affect. I don't remember how she did it but she managed to make me cling to her every word and turn on my family. I feared them and didn't want to have anything to do with them. She hated the rest of my family so she did it just to fuck with them. She had me talk to them on the phone so they could hear how afraid I am of them and she even sent me over there once for a visit by myself just so they could see with their own eyes that she had "won" or something. I struggled mentally for many years until I could break her hold over me.
My mom has never done anything for me. She sold all of my stuff, stuff I received from other family members, and I clearly rememer that my room was no more than a matress on the floor and a t.v. on the floor. She never fed me and so I had to make ramen and eat that every day. She always lies to me and I know to do the opposite of what she says. This is how I've learned to read people so well. I can tell when someone's is being two-faced with me or trying to manipulate me into doing something. Ever since, I've placed up barriers that I don't think I'll ever be able to take down.
I'm strongly a loner not because of being anti-social or untrusting but because I'm too scared to break the ice. I think strongly about whether or not someone will hate me if I say something stupid and besides, I don't believe I deserve to be loved anyway. It's true that my mom conditioned me to be a pawn and to have no feelings for myself but I've broken that hold and I can see where I've sinned. I think I deserve nothing but hatred from people for what I've done in the past. I think people are able to feel my barriers and thus keep away from me.
In high school, I tossed away my pacifism and started fighting. I became violent and loved fighting. I have a problem with blood lust (though it's not as bad now but it's still DEFINITELY there) and I'll actually salviate at the thought of spilling someone's blood. I've been told that my personality does a complete 180 in a fight. Most of the time I'm calm and composed but in a fight I can't help but smile. It's overpoweringly thrilling for me. And I especially love it when the odds are against me. It might be arrogant but I don't think any human being with just their hands or a knife can take me in a fight.
Eventually, I came to realize that I had all the traits of a serial killer and actively began working on preventing myself from becoming one. I'm always restraining myself or holding back no matter how much I hate the person I'm fighting. I control my anger and have sort of merged my pacifist nature with my blood lust to create a calm and composed individual able to intimidate everyone around me. Though I fought a lot in my first year of high school, all years afterward no one ever dared to fight me again. At least 20 or 30 times people attempted to get in a fight with me but they all backed down when they saw my eyes. I don't yell at people, I just stare at them if they're trying to start something with me. So far, no one has had the balls yet to throw a punch at me ever since I started intimidating everyone.
Even my cousin who gave me the scar above my right eye from punching me said that when I snapped after that punch he was afraid to hit me again. I didn't fall down from the punch and it didn't hurt but his hand broke and my head split open. I could see my skull when I looked into a mirror. Your head is a lot more hollow than you think, by the way. The skull is about an inch or so in and it's covered in blood.
I didn't truly start calming down until I met Sami, my ex-girlfriend. She was (and still might be) the only girl I've ever loved. But dammit if my premonitions aren't always accurate. I told her that I loved her and she said she loved me just as much but I always corrected her. I knew in my heart she didn't love me as much as I loved her even if I saw that she legitamately believed she did. She moved away far north and broke up with me and so it hit me really hard.
I couldn't take it, I argued with my family and somehow managed to get a train ride there. I was by myself on a train ride for 36 hours and dammit those hours were the loneliest and emptiest hours of my life. We met at a park in a wide open field, wind blowing, really romantic shit. I made my case but it fell on death ears and she told me she felt nothing at all for me. I was devastated. Afterwards, I was extremely sick for an entire month. I think the depression is what made it last so long and be so horrible. It's been nearly two years now since she left me but I still think about her. It's hell for me to move on.