TRIGGER and SPOILER ALERT...... I was suppose to be someone else

************TRIGGER WARNING*****************

I was suppose to be someone else, I am sure of it. When I was born, I was on a trajectory for something good, maybe not great, but at least good. The suit of skin I was suppose to wear was poised and prepared specifically for me. And so I started down that road toward that good person with goodness in their future, I set out as confident and ready for whatever was about to come at me. But just as a pebble on the train tracks can derail a large train, at age five I was thrust into a different direction and I wasn’t able to find my way back to the good path. My suit of skin sat in the window dressing waiting for me but after many years it slowly decayed and faded. And who I was suppose to be no longer mattered until I remembered I was suppose to be someone else. 

It’s cruel to do that to anyone, to do that to a child. To do that to a living a thing is like the Dementors and their kiss. You will remain alive but there is almost no point, not missing the soul of the person you were meant to be. Getting knocked to your knees, getting the air pushed out of you, lying still in a curled ball on the ground almost makes you wish ... Almost.... Death would have taken you long ago. 

I often say I wouldn’t change a day because I like who I am now. 

Very few people know this about me, this is something I don’t share very often, it’s a burden I have always felt I should carry alone because the weight of it is enough to drag anyone to their knees. But my legs are strong by now, I have carried this with me so long now that if I didn’t have it, I wouldn’t know how to walk, or be. 

I often think about moving to another country, to be far away from here because no matter where I am in the states, my family will find me. But they are also dumb, and I don’t mean that fully as a hurtful statement, they are dumb. They never finished school nor have they tried to better themselves. They are stagnant in their ignorant revery and they don’t ever wish to change. They wouldn’t understand how to fill out the passport application nor would they put forth that kind of energy. Being that far from them would maybe, maybe, maybe give me the leg up, to become someone else that is closer to who I was suppose to be. Who they were suppose to be was ripped from them at a very young age. When people talk about cycles, that is exactly what it is, a cycle from one person to the next who will never be who they were suppose to be. 

So, here I am, memories pounding my mind like hail on a tin roof, just trying to hold myself together with two tired arms and hoping the onslaught ends soon. And hating my parents for taking away the person I was suppose to be.