I do not know at what age I became capable of recognizing chaos, unease and fear, but by the time I was nine years old, I felt like I had endured a lifetime worth of the worst of emotions.
For the first nine years, all I remember is changing where we lived, over and over again, changing elementary schools on four different occasions and having to endure my parents fighting, pushing, pulling and screaming at the top of their lungs.
By the time I was eight years old or so, I was a fearful, bundle of flesh, never knowing when the next shoe was going to drop. I was a f…ng mess and on top of it all, I took everything that was happening to me so personally.
Then one day, sometime around nine years old my parents bought a home, in a nice quite suburb, in an area where many of my aunts and uncles lived. I was able to have my own room, a drive way and basketball hoop and I was able to play with two of my cousins which I had been pretty close to.
It was awesome and for the first time in my life, I felt as though I was finally going to be OK. It was around this time when I took a deep breath and exhaled a sigh of relief.
Then, I came home from school one day, took a right instead of a left and went to my cousins house, as I usually did and my aunt told me there was a moving truck out in front of my house. I ran home knowing the whole way that my life was destroyed again and there was not a dam thing I could do about it.
I ended up back in a city project and felt like I had been thrown to the lions.
I can barely express how badly I felt; how helpless and insignificant I was, knowing that I was not in control of my life.
I realize today, that I am in exactly the same situation, forty years later as I was when I was nine years old. I watch everything that goes on in the world and I am terrified that I am going to come home one day and there is going to be a moving truck of some kind out in front of my house and there is not going to be a dam thing that I am going to be able to do about it.
People say, “relax and live for the day”, but I am literally afraid to take a deep breath and exhale a sigh of relief in fear that I may come home the next day and find that I have been thrown to the lions again.
It is pretty fucked up to think, that the only time I am ever going to feel OK and safe is when I am back in the fucking ground.
People say, ” God works in mysterious ways”, but I say, “that is bullshit”!
It is not God that works in mysterious ways, it is Man and we are not Him.
At least not what we see in the mirror.
It is awful. I feel as though God does not recognize the existence of the form that I am and that I am at the mercy of Man.