My Main Point

I asked myself many times what I did to deserve this. I have been tortured, beaten, and ridiculed for most of my life. By many that I thought loved me and that I loved me. And some that purely hated who I was and wanted me to know that what I did was a sin. I don't understand why anybody on this earth, despite anything they've done, would have to face the punishment of what I've been through. I am different; so what? What does it matter to the persons who do not even have to live with me or grace my presence. For some, I thought they could be trusted. I trusted them with some of the secrets that I wouldn't even dare to tell most.

When I was little, I never felt any sense of God. He was never presented in my life, he never appeared when I needed him most. I never went to Church; Yet, my parents still strongly believe in his existence. I respect that, as I would for anybody, because I am strongly against religious discrimination, or any sort of discrimination. I never went to Church, I never prayed, or even asked for forgiveness when needed [Though sometimes I wish I should have at that moment]. I am unsure of which branch of Atheism I am. I have odd beliefs. I say this because I do not believe in God or Jesus Christ simply because I do not think that there should be any main spirit or Lord in the universe. My personal belief is that there is no central God or Lord. I do however; believe in spirits and ghosts. I sense this because I've seen them. Some call me a medium; also, because I've been able to do this since I was a little girl. I always thought that it was just my imagination. About three years ago, the worst day of my life occurred, and plummeted my depression even greater. My greatest inspirer notified me that she wasn't doing so good, and that she was returning to the hospital due to alcoholic issues that needed to be dealt with. It was only a few weeks; only a few weeks until I realized that she wouldn't make it. Her skin, increasing in the color yellow, and her skin, filled with bruises because of the thinning blood. Seeing her took a tole on me. So, I stopped seeing her for a while; biggest mistake of my life. I stopped because it broke me to see her in the condition that she was in at the time. I never saw that that may have been the last of what I saw of her, ever. I went back, only to see that she had gotten worse. I saw her; laying in what may have possibly been her death bed. 

I forbid talking about the day she died, for it was the worst experience I have ever went through. And I wouldn't wish it upon my worst enemy. It told a tale that should never be put into a book, something that killed the mind of what was once a little girl, and what was now a young woman who had seen too much of the world already. My motivation was gone, once I heard the hospital beeper go off signaling that she was gone. As I held her, I wished upon my spirits to take her and love her. I placed a kiss upon her forehead and whispered in her ear, "When the angels ask me what I loved most about life, I'll say you".  Then, as life went on, and things got worse, I saw more and more spirits coming for me. They would tell me things and whisper demeaning phrases in my ear when I was focusing on them. I consider this a gift; generously because I do believe that I can help some of them, or the ones that I would like to. When I talk to them; they call me an angel. They tell me that I am an angel surrounded by light, and that no dark can enter into my soul. When I was about twelve, I was quite mature for someone of my age. I started practicing Black Magic. And that was my escape, my gateway. When I was feeling as though depression had gotten to me again, I would light my candles. It was something that made me feel invincible. Then... I continued it. 

    Ever since then, my practice has been apart of it. Most persons do not understand the stand point of which it is in. I believe that everyone is naive, and that nobody truly understands something that they have not been through, or they do not believe in. To me, it's human nature. So, as I placed the knowledge of telling someone I loved what I had been doing; she was skeptical. She didn't understand why I was doing it when all of the benefits came from scratches on my legs and a burning sensation in my head, and maybe even cuts here and there. I always told people, "It isn't that bad", "I'll stop one day, when this wave of sadness has passed", or "This is my only escape from the conscious life". I was dragged, through the hallways. While others threw garbage and other sharp items at me, they told me I was weak and a freak. Someone who worshiped Satin and all of his decedents. I was beaten; only for the simple fact that I had drawn the spirits and subjects that came to me. They tied me up, and watched as they burned all of what I created. Or, even when someone took the time out of their life to actually carve wood, and make a wand-shaped figure. They came into school one day, asked me if this was what I was doing, and when I gave them the best policy; honesty, they beat me with that same 'wand'. They described to me that I would never amount to anything of the sort, and that I needed to stop, or they'd take the same 'wand', and drive it through my skin. I was held down, by boys bigger than me. They called me names, "Whore", "Slut", though I've never even been intimate with a guy. They didn't really know who I was or what I've been through. They didn't understand that what they were about to do to me, would ruin them for the rest of their lives, and for the rest of mine. They all took my legs and arms, and held me down to a degree where I couldn't move. Then, I saw it. The blade they pulled out. They laid it against multiple locations of my body, wondering where they were first going to place it. They rested it upon my legs, and sliced. One by one, they killed my skin. They tore through my skin, and ripped me apart on my upper thighs. They weren't that deep, but that didn't matter at all.  My life was threatened, it was deceived, and taken advantage of. So, I took advantage of what I could do to get rid of it as quickly as possible. 

After these horrific tragedies, I had never loved myself. Always thinking that I truly was a freak, and that I didn't deserve a spot on this planet. I never told anybody this; I never took into consideration that I could've just gone then. I never had any knowledge of how to actually demolish myself at that point in time, but I wish I had. My beliefs, my personal feelings, and my morals, are nothing but what I've been put through. It's nothing that I'm proud of; simply because I blamed myself for it for years. My faults were considered everything I did or acted upon. "Sorry" was a word that I said on a daily basis, when I said anything. It was a go-to saying, something that was necessary to be spoken when words left my mouth. I've never hated something, and never wished to; but this... I hated.

I always thought that I was the main suspect to what I've been through, because I let myself get into that position. But in some cases, I was the victim. Which I also hated, because I never wanted someone to have pity on me, but now I thrived for it. It wasn't something that was worth taking pride in, but something that I wanted to change one day, if I had the chance to.

"I hate you for ever pulling me back from the edge, I hate you for making all the sacrifices you did for me, I hate you for every time you ever bled for me, I hate you for saving me from myself, I hate you for never taking control of me. I love you for everything you took from me, I love you when you dominate and you violate me, I love you for every time you gave up on me, I love you for never delivering me from pain, I love you for never once giving me my way, I love you for always driving me insane. I hate you; I love you."