This is important to me. Hold this passage dear to your heart as no one knows the stories and everything I wrote is the truth. I’m fine so unless you have serious concerns keep this to yourself as I’m just trying to get through the semester without too much drama.
Grandma and Aunt Susie held us as we cried in mom and dad’s bedroom as we heard the bathroom in the hall become a construction zone. Steven walked out of the bathroom with a few new bruises and no explanation as to how. The toilet broke, stained with a bit of blood but no one was going to tell us why.
We were toddlers when this happened.
Childhood is such a broad topic. We all have one. Some have a childhood shorter than others, some don’t grow out of the childhood phase at all , and some don’t have a positive childhood as it could have been filled with a constant negative thing.
Imagine being constantly yelled at as a child, watching a mother cry her eyes out, hearing the words money and job over and over again, gambling, fingers pointing, feeling awkward to have classmates to come over to hangout, or even not wanting to go home after school not knowing what your parents emotional state would be in. The blinds were always drawn at home and was always just me and my younger sister against the world. Mom and dad always worked. We did have our older brother, Billy around while growing up but after a couple of years he wasn’t really there. He left for a while, lived on the west coast and then came back home for a couple of years and then official moved out. There is a huge age gap between him and my sister and I; there is not emotional connection between any of us except for an agreeance on how Steven is treating dad right now. We have another brother, Steven but he was never around to talk about him. He’s caused an uproar with dad.
Growing up There was that constant worry state that I was always in, feeling anxious or lost especially while at home. It was difficult to want to stay home or to even go home right after school. Mom always worked, she was never around as much as we wanted her to and dad would walk into the door more often or not mad and angry and not in the brightest mood. After a few years of the constant negative energy that seeped into the walls, my sister and I developed the same feelings towards him; hatred yet pity. Today, we’re both 21 and 22, older now and wiser and we aren’t as naïve and easily warped as we were when we were kids. He’s supposed to be the adult, but he never was.
When I was in Elementary School, I made the decision I was going to be an artist, I wrote it in the yearbook. No one could argue with me about that decision. I was 100% certain I was going to become someone. I wasn’t that great of an artist, but I was determined to be involved as much as I could with that Idea. I saved as much as I could, Artwork wise, from elementary school art class and it’s all piled up in my bedroom closet right now. I looked over it during the summer and it was super cringy yet rewarding to have it all.
In high school I was lonely, I didn’t like sitting in the Lunch room because I didn’t have many friends or there were more people that didn’t like me and would always bully and or harass me throughout the years. I lived in the library during lunch but never actually did anything. When it came down to not wanting to be in the library, I would beg the art teachers to sit in the room. when I say Beg, I mean beg, it took a lot of convincing for them to let me sit in during their free time. Most of the time, I would do work or just sit and mind my business. More often or not I would do work. Senior year had come along, and I was terrified of where I was going to go for college. I didn’t know what the future would hold, and I believe that’s why I was terrified. I needed to know everything before doing it. I spoil the endings of the movie most times just because I never want to be surprised.
I knew I wanted to get out of the suburbs, away from Westchester, NY, family, old classmates etc. I didn’t want to be stuck physically or emotionally to the small town I grew up in and I just wanted to cut the ties from people that never were important to me. I refused to wear the t-shirt of the college I chose on the day of college reveal because I wasn’t even sure with myself what I was going to do with life.
I decided out of the blue, without visiting the college that I wanted to go to Mass Art. I was dead set and ready to go. The very next day of putting down a deposit I panicked and cried to my mom saying I didn’t want to go to the school. I panicked just because it was so far away and unfortunately was very expensive for my family household. I put down a deposit for Purchase a few days later after arguing with MASS ART and here I am; Four years later. We never got the money back for the deposit.
My father caused a problem for move in day multiple times, with me and then my sister. He was annoyed with the amount of stuff I had brought to college- I didn’t need half as much as I had but I wanted it all. I guess for security. My sister was a freshman a year after me and he caused the biggest upset with the family because she didn’t want to go, and he didn’t want to deal with this kind of stuff. She was nervous and was never away from home for a long period of time. She panicked and contemplated living on campus. He freaked, was angry with her with mom and with me because I stood up to him. Courtney (my sister) eventually went to school and is doing great. At this day and age, He doesn’t understand and doesn’t really that we are adults now and we no longer take shit like we did when we were kids. College changed that for me- I rather stand up for something that I believe in then to sit back and do nothing.
To go back to the problem’s, I grew up with.
I was in 8th grade when I took a shower and left my phone on silent for 10 minutes. I got out and my father called a number of times and I obviously didn’t answer the phone because I was showering. I called him back and he didn’t respond. He arrived a few minutes later standing in the doorway in the house furious. Granted it was 830 maybe 9PM when he came bursting through the door almost in a panic. He pointed at both my sister and I and yelled at us like we were children we were at the time 13 and 14, old enough to be on our own for a short period of time especially on a Wednesday. “why didn’t you answer your phones, they aren’t toys.” My response was “I was showering, and it was on silent.” He was angry at the fact that he had to leave the firehouse meeting on a Wednesday.
He never wanted girls. You could tell he wanted a few more boys. Girls were never on his agenda. He had two boys already who grew up to be inconsiderate assholes. I guess he wanted someone to continue his last name something my sister and I will never do.
Nana Owsiany and Nana Harkins practically raised us. Nana Owsiany raised us most days of the week. She babysat, fed us, helped us shower with her long nails and old hands when we were kids, and stayed at the house until dad or mom would get home. Mom would come home first some nights and then dad.
One night I told nana and Mom that Dad gave Billy (my older half-brother by 12 years) money for some reason even when we were struggling. Dad was working at Sears at the time and gambling away most of the money that he was earning and then half of mom’s paychecks. Mom cried a lot more than during this time period because She worked non-stop but couldn’t meet ends meet.
Nana told dad the information I gave her right before he came home. I was in Pj’s and I was half the size I am now. He came in angry (like usual) and he stood in the kitchen and called me in. I stood in the narrow doorway staring at him as he pointed a large finger at me and told me “to mind my business.” in the most nastiest voice a young child could imagine. I cried while standing in that doorway and told him it wouldn’t happen again. He was wearing a blue shirt and black pants and that index finger was a lot bigger and closer than it actually was. I went to bed and continue crying; I knew no matter what, I would just be a child and possibly a fuck up in the future, but no one should ever constantly treat someone like the way he did especially a father to a daughter.
I thought I could trust my Nana with anything even a simple thing like that but even the most important people in life couldn’t be trusted. I don’t tell many people how I feel or what I’m going through at any time in day. Only a handful of people – people that are on less than one hand is who I trust. Everyone else are irrelevant and most of those people joke it’s because I’m a Capricorn.
Dad threatened a divorce years ago when my sister and I shared a pink room. They argued again about money. It was the typical late-night conversation that we could never hear. It was forbidden for us as children to hear the words that relate to money and struggling. They thought we would never understand what those words meant. We knew every time what the words were; we heard it as often as they said it.
We had a savings account as a baby; never knew how much were in the accounts but mine no longer exists. There’s probably 100$ in the account. My sister has been growing hers back up.
Mom crawled into my twin bed the night he threatened the divorce and cried. I was young but old enough to understand that it wasn’t healthy for this to keep happening. She cried a lot when we were kids but again it was forbidden for us to actually know that she did. Shortly after she came into my room; He appeared and stood in the doorway and told her to get out of our room to talk. She finally left but you can still hear the loud whispering from the living room and eventually the front door closing and a car starting in the drive way. He did that often, knowing he was wrong in every aspect of any conversation that revolved around money.
I always wanted them to divorce and live on my own even as a kid. I knew if they divorced my sister and I would have to have to choose who to live with and I never ever wanted to live with either one. My mother the greatest woman besides my late grandmothers and my dear sister would never have been able to support two girls especially the two like myself and my sister. And I would never live with my father; we would most likely end up living with Nana and Aunt Susie and I would not have enjoyed that. Billy and Steven were raised by them and they ended up being the two of the most spoiled yet lonely adults I’ve ever met.
Family vacations were “great”. Especially as we got older, we did our family trips with our uncles and or with a bunch of cousins. He (my father) lurked around and wanted as much attention that he wanted. Always the loudest and always the proudest in the eviliest ways. It was either his way for anything or the high way. As we got older it became harder to agree with what he wanted to do or even to come up with something as he most likely or not would not have wanted to do any of the family activities that we suggested. At restaurants, He always flirted with waitress’s and women that we would always meet around. It became uncomfortable especially as I got older. He still does it on occasion and it’s not something I’m okay with, but I’m always terrified to say something. I know could never say anything to him; he would just get mad at it and leave without communication.
Family gatherings are always “great”. He drinks too many big drinks, and he’s a big man so he has to drink a lot to get drunk, and he gets loud and uncomfortable and says things inappropriate for the holidays.
Over one summer I knew he was messaging another girl who wasn’t my mother on facebook. I found her on facebook, and instagram and went through his account on facebook. She’s much younger then him and a few years older than me. Going through the messages, they would go all the way back to 2015 right around the time I went to college. He said “I love you” to her multiple times and that made me annoyed and the hatred for him that I had as a child came back. I’ve never in my 22 years have said “I love you” to anyone; cause of the way my father treats my mother. Every woman deserves a king not a man who thinks less of her. He’s practically cheated but my mother will never know.
He always brings up how he wants to be “loved” and not loved like emotionally love but the physical love. He’s threatened to move on and find someone if it doesn’t happen and it’s getting old really quick. It’s kind of pathetic actually. I would never be okay with a grown ass man talking to me like that and I don’t understand why my mother would want to or continues to. There needs to be equal communication between the two and an equal respect between mom and dad before “love” happens. Moms getting old, she works two jobs and works doubles most days out of the week. She’s 59, and she’ll be 60 this year. Dad works barely a job and half. He doesn’t get why she’s always tired, but men are dumb and never understand women. I’ve personally never wanted to be in a relationship because I don’t want to be emotionally connected to someone who has my whole heart and them constantly playing with it. I put this fence up and am emotionally disconnected to a lot of people because of the emotional trauma that I went through as a kid, the emotional trauma I’m going through now. I don’t want to be destroyed from the inside out. No one ever deserves their emotions to be completely fucked over in a constant rotation. I’m already emotionally broken after all of the years my father constantly yelled at my sister and I and with myself not having any friends in grade school. That was because I was constantly trying to be a good person and tell people off whenever they were wrong or doing bad things (cheating and such) but I don’t have a single friendship from grade school that lasted through college.
I’m kind of a horrible person and that has to do with my father and all of the pent-up anger that I had as a kid.
In first grade; I pretended I was Jewish because of a girl I wanted to be best friends with who was Jewish. She made me upset one day and I told her I’m going to have my big cousin beat her up. I cannot tell you exactly what she said to me, but I was angry at her. I don’t remember why I ever said that, but my parents received a phone call from her parents shortly after I arrived home and the next hour, I was at her house apologizing to her in front of both of her parents and my father. We were never friends afterwards and for years didn’t talk. I avoided having class with her throughout elementary school; I was embarrassed. It wasn’t until middle school and the drama club when we interacted; other than that, we never spoke. Even all the way through high school not a single interaction.
In second grade I bit a kid on the pinky because he was too close for comfort. My teachers and mom were not proud of me; kind of relates to this time period of saying something or doing something in regard to something bad and you become the problem and not the victim. I bit the kid because I was uncomfortable, and he didn’t respect the word No or go away. But I was treated as the bad guy because little girls shouldn’t be mean or be able to stand up for themselves.
In third grade I formed a crush on a kid name frank. But I only formed the crush because another girl had a crush on him too. I “fought” her in the parking lot of the elementary school during recess and we grabbed each other by the wrist and swung each other because I was jealous. In middle school I told people about someone’s crush and she wasn’t really my friend after wards and I get that now.
For the rest of elementary school everything skipped around. I didn’t have many friend’s, or I hung out with more boys instead of girls. I dressed up one day in a nice outfit skirt and matching shirt and totally forgot my back pack at home. My 4th grade teacher wasn’t happy with me. That was the last day I wore a skirt in public, at school, even to this day I avoid skirts or dresses because I could never be good enough to wear them.
In middle school; in 6th grade I forgot to sign up for drama club tryouts and my mother contacted the director of the production complaining to her about how she should give me a chance. She had someone come to my class to tell me to come to her class. I showed up and she embarrassed me in front of a full class. That was my fault. I was also old enough to know that parents should never email teachers even if we were in 6th grade. That’s too old for parents to get into school business. I butchered the audition and was embarrassed to be in the club. But she kept me out of pity. Every bad thing that happened to me was all of my fault and I constantly tell myself that especially drunk.
I had a friend in middle school I wanted to be friends with, but I was upset she was friends with someone else; so, I told her she couldn’t be friends with that person. I was jealous. I just wanted someone to be friends with; I was crazy because I wanted her to just have me as a friend. I clearly was crazy, cause now I don’t talk to any of them. I worked with one of them in sophomore year of high school at party city for the month of October, but It was awkward because we were close all throughout elementary school because of the dance club. It’s weird to talk to someone after all of those years.
I grabbed people’s ears for some weird reason in middle school. I can’t explain why. It was cringy to even think about now.
I smacked my sister in the face a number of times when we were kids; I feel like she gets all of her migraines because of me and the amount of times I hit her, pulled her hair, kicked her etc. I had all of this anger pent up because of all of the negative energy my father brought into the household and I didn’t know how to get rid of it, so I ended up hitting her constantly.
I felt weird having friends coming over because I didn’t know what kind of mood my father was going to be in. imagine a scrawny short kind of kid who sat in the living room watching cartoons or Disney channel shows eating a snack and watch the time as it ticked down to 430 pm and becoming anxious and begin sweating and what not because your father was going to come home at any minute now and you didn’t know what type of mood he was going to be in. Most times the blinds were drawn shut and it was dark. I never like that; I prefer having all of the blinds up now and I guess it’s because of that. 445 would come around and once the car pulled into the drive way all of the cartoons had to turn off and his old western shows had to be turned on, the remote on the couch. No matter what he would have turned the channel even if you didn’t turn it to his station and you wouldn’t be able to watch the shows you wanted to until the next day on demand. Sometimes if we were lucky enough, we would be able to watch some shows, Hannah Montana, Teen wolf (he actually liked that show, we would have something in common in high school with that show), Vampire Diaries, Jersey shore. Fan favorite all around was jersey shore. We were 13 and 14 watching the show and we loved every second of it.
After years of emotional abuse as I call it now at the mere age of 22 it wasn’t fair for my sister and I to go through any of it. Every house hold is different, and its every household has their own problems that they go through. Some households don’t have parents just grandparents, one parent or step parents but emotional abuse is still emotional abuse.
Freshman year came around and you don’t understand how terrified I was to be at a school away from parents for a long period of time. We were never rich enough to go to sleep away camp and to go on vacations with friends etc. So, going away from parents was extremely uneasy. I was blessed enough to room with 7 people my freshman year and being in a program that forces you to be with same 18 people in each class. I opened up, was still annoying as hell but I was growing up slowly. Taking care of myself, buying groceries, supplies, etc. without the help of my parents. The only thing that I did insanely too much while a freshman was that I drank every weekend and ended up in the bathroom almost every weekend. I took too many shots, drank too many drinks and just couldn’t handle my alcohol. I was a shit show. I wrote a three pages thing on my computer similar to all of this called Shit show in December of my freshman year and it just described the first few months of what freshman year was like. I was amused by it. I was a shitty person, but I also surrounded myself with shitty people, so I was dealing with a lot. I lost a few friends within a couple of months gained a few and then the fab 5 was created for a short period of time. John, Sirene, Alannah, Janice and I were the fab 5. No one else called us the fab 5 except for me.
Half way through sophomore year shit broke out – relationships formed – relationships had ended, and I was stuck in the middle as the fab five broke apart. I was left almost on my own for a while trying to survive as an individual. I barely slept, sometimes didn’t eat and my anxiety was through the roof almost every single day. I sometimes couldn’t function, but I forced myself to as the anxiety would get worst if I didn’t do anything. The fall semester sophomore year was the worse for being alone. I would go home often on weekends, stay in the VA as late as I could during the week and I would just get by. No one knew I was struggling. I didn’t talk about it with people. I preferred not to talk to anyone about it. Before the semester ended, I mended my friendships with everyone that needed mended and then we went onto winter break. Winter break happened, and it ended, and I don’t think anyone knew or didn’t understood why I did not want to be back. I didn’t want to keep breathing and living. I couldn’t breathe most days because of the anxiety I would have but no one understood. I cut myself one night in the VA early in the spring because I couldn’t stand to think that everyone was out to hate me. I wasn’t feeling emotionally great. I felt like I didn’t do anything wrong, but I knew I did everything wrong at the same time. I was fine, my friendships were fine, but I put up a fence to protect myself most days. I felt like I needed to protect myself as best as I could. Trust was never there between myself and everyone else around me.
When the official spring came around It was the worst time for my family for my parents and for my sister and I. March 3rd happened; it was a Wednesday afternoon and I received a phone call from my father. The first thing he asked me was if I was in class and my response was “no I wasn’t”. I was still half asleep, so I was confused as why he was asking me a question like that. He told me that nana Owsiany fell asleep last night after eating lobsters and ziti and everything else that she wanted as a last dinner and never woke up. She died in the house that grandpa Owsiany died in and she died at peace. I was shocked as I haven’t talked to her in a while, but I know my last words to her were “I love you Nana”. Dad constantly was with her on a daily basis; taking her out to the beauty parlor, to the grocery store etc. and just being with her as after as he could for the last few years. Now he didn’t have anyone to go to after work and when mom was working. He was left alone on days when he wasn’t alone. The whole death was a weird experience as my current roommate lost her stepdad a couple of weeks prior and her best friend lost a family member right before her. Things happen in threes, so I guess that’s what it was. But Her death took a toll on my other grandmother who was just as fragile and alone as everyone else. She refused to go to her wake and funeral as her response to not going was that “why should I go, she’s not going to be there”. You can’t argue with someone who was right. She was an old, stubborn woman and nothing and no one would be able to remove her from that house she lived in. 5 and half weeks later was spring break for me. My sister had her’s 2 weeks before and she warned me that nana wasn’t doing great. Mom knew she wasn’t doing great, dad knew, my uncles and aunts knew, and my cousin Lindsey knew that it wasn’t going to be much longer until we buried another. We all did hold onto the feeling that she would push through it all and we would have her for another couple of holidays or atleast the birth of the next grandchild.
The first days of my spring break, I worked for a few hours. Right after getting out, I met my family over at Nana’s Harkins house where we sat in the driveway ate pizza and contemplated what to do with her as she struggled to breath in her bedroom and refused to eat, bath and get up to walk. We knew but didn’t want to say out loud that she was dying. We needed her to live- she was the rock of the family. She raised 7 kids all on her own, watch 20 grandkids grow up, and multiple neighborhood kids live through the best years of life. We were all in denial.
My break started on a Saturday, so from Saturday to Tuesday every day we were at the house from lunch time to after dinner. Mom did an overnight one night at the house so we kind of knew it was going to be hard for her if it was to come time for her to move on. We had Courtney come back down late Tuesday night and Anna who was away at college at Suny Cortlandt came down Wednesday before. Anna cried the second she opened the door because none of us told her it was bad, she just figured out it was bad when she gets a phone call in the middle of the week to come home.
The priest came by that Wednesday night to bless Nana. She was going to die in the house, there was no way of not preventing that. So, we figured bless her one last time, so she can join all of her relatives up in heaven.
Thursday happened. Kayley and Emily (Anna’s older sisters) with their boyfriends went to a Yankees game, Lindsey went to work, Anna was at the house with my sister, myself, mom dad, uncle glen, uncle ralph, uncle Charlie, Aunt Cindy, Wendy who’s Ralphs girlfriend and Brian who’s a family friend. There were two sets of family that weren’t present at the house. Aunt Donna and Uncle Gerado who lost his wife, My mom’s sister Jill to cancer in 2009. No parent should outlive a kid so that death took a toll on nana when It happened back then. We called uncle Gerado to talk to Nana to have him tell her it was okay to go, that Aunt Jill will be waiting for her that she’s been waiting for her. That call happened earlier in the day on Thursday. Anna, Courtney, dad, mom and I went for a walk to the Elephant rock that’s down the road in the woods. It was the most peaceful thing I did in a while.
Once that phone call happened, we all knew it was a matter of time before IT happened. Later that night, we all sat down for dinner, uncle glen stayed in the room with nana. We finished up dinner and started to pass around dessert. my father went down the hallway into the room where nana was, to watch her as glen could get out of the room to eat. Instead of glen it was my father who came down the hallway and pointed at my mother, ralph, and Charlie to tell them to get into the room. The baby monitor was on and everyone else sat around the table in the kitchen just waiting. The last few breathes happened and the last few words were said, and everything went silent. Mom came down the hallway and was crying. It took a while for my uncles to get out of the room but eventually they all did. Uncle Glen who’s the youngest out of the 4 full siblings cried and I’ve never seen that man cry. My sister and I burst into tears as we lost two important women in our life within 6 weeks of each other. It took all of us a few minutes to gather up our feelings; obviously the rest of the week was going to be weird especially with Easter on Sunday.
My uncle Ralph, my father and Brian were all a part of the fire house, so we called it over, we called Lindsey who was at work, Kayley and Emily to get back to the house as soon as they can. Lindsey left work which was 45 minutes away, Tara whose Lindsey’s best friend showed up within a few minutes of the monitor going off saying the address, and Kayley and Emily were on their way back from the Yankee game. Dessert was never touched; it was thrown out as every single one of us lost our appetite.
The one thing the adults told us to do was to avoid looking down the hallway as they told us she was going to be carried out in a black bag. The black bag you see in a television show.
The rest of the weekend was a celebration of life, most of the cousins arrived back up and we spent the entire weekend with each other. We all needed each other at this point in time and none of us wanted to admit it.
Within 6 weeks both my parents became orphans and a part of their world died and moved on to a different realm.
My world flipped and was turned inside out within a short period of time and I could never imagine anything like that to happen again, but their time between now and 20 years into the future when the next generation will start to die off and my cousins my sister, brothers and I will be orphans. I’ve thought about that for a while now. What would life be like in 10 years when I’ll be in my 30’s hopefully with a kid and house and a roof over my head. Would everything around me change, stay the same, will mom and dad still be alive or is there going to be an empty house on a busy street that no longer has our name on the mailbox? I don’t know; I guess I’ve thought about the future too much to think about the present.
The end of sophomore year, I drank way too much during Culture shock weekend. I threw up in public and my roommates dragged my ass back to the room where I balled and screamed my eyes out. I was alone but wasn’t alone at the same time. I told them I cut myself, and I’m so alone and I want to die etc. They didn’t understand that that’s exactly how I felt, and I needed to cry for I didn’t cry the weeks prior. I fell asleep crying that night.
Junior year of college was a blur. I didn’t enjoy it as much as I should have. I turned 21 but never really celebrated it. One good thing that did come out of it was that another grandchild was born and this time it’s adds another boy to the future family games. My friends who I lived with lost a friend during the spring semester. He was a beautiful boy dealing with internal demons and couldn’t deal with it anymore. It was difficult for a few of my friend’s friends to cope but everyone is still alive and ready to graduate.
This campus is filled with a lot of ghosts; Some actual ghost that haunt apartments on campus and others that linger in the shadows haunting the dreams of most of the kids that are just trying to survive on campus.
We are here and its senior year. I don’t think everyone’s ready to say were graduating in 2 ½ months; everyone still thinks we all have time but the time we only have is after graduation and that’s infinite. At this very moment, in this very time period we don’t have time. We do though have empty wine boxes, beer bottles, cigarette boxes, unopened boxes of pasta, unstretched canvas and infinite amount of doubt circulating our life styles that represent the amount of time we spent with each other. Most of us are struggling but none of us want to admit it. The only ones that want to admit are the ones who need the help.
Last semester I was manipulated for a month and half by a classmate. It was one of the worst things I’ve ever been manipulated into especially since they convinced me I was a shitty person for a few weeks. They wanted me to feel pity for them and feel less of a person as they were the ones struggling with that. I had enough of bullshit and tried to tell them off. They flipped everything that they did wrong onto me and “convinced” me for a short period of time I was a shitty person. They threw at me that they had cut themselves on their arms because of the way I treated them the night before. I simply asked them to leave the night before because things needed to get done and they weren’t going to get things done. They were in the wrong, never have I ever had someone come up to me and do that to me. It’s (not) a great feeling every day to see them in the classrooms knowing things about them. They’re struggling, and I do want to help them. Maybe they’ll get it one day and they’ll be happy and sane and find their true potential.
I’m running a gallery space on campus and it is the greatest achievement in my 22 years of life. It’s silly to say but it makes me happy knowing there are kids on campus that aren’t VA majors getting the opportunity to showcase their work in a gallery space. It feels amazing because I’m the one giving them that opportunity and I hope in the future I can do that for others.
I don’t officially know how I feel at the moment. I constantly feel like I’m drowning and there’s absolutely no way out. At other points I do feel content with my life. I have not been home all semester and I’ve been craving to go home but I don’t think I’ll be able to for a while.
As I write you this long essay, you’re probably wondering why all of the background information, 10 pages of dense yet vague information that doesn’t cover much of the things I experienced as a child; it was a sprinkle into kind of a fucked-up life. You’re probably wondering Why? Why all of this information. I guess, and this is a huge guess is because I’m currently struggling with everything and I figured if I list out my childhood traumas everything that I create, all of the art work, papers I write, things I say all at some point will make sense. I want it to make sense, but I know at some point it won’t. It will take some time before it does.
I’ve been alone of my life even when there are people that I constantly surround myself with. I feel like I’m constantly wearing a mask, the one you find in the theatre. I wear the mask every single day and I haven’t taken it off yet.
In the overall make of things, I don’t want to be alone in this world, but I understand if it will take some time to overcome that. I’ll be fine if being alone is all I got for now. There’s plenty of time to feel less alone.
here’s will always be more to write about.