For the past 23 years of my young life, I have tried. Tried to be normal, tried to succeed tried to... just function in a world that seemingly will not have me.
As a young child, I suffered abuses, both verbal and physical (my most vivid recollection was of my father beating my head off of a brick chimney wall at six years old for being afraid of the dark; that or the times they followed me around with video cameras screaming at me because I had wet the bed (I would have been maybe 5-6?).
Well, being resilient and a trooper to the end (and not knowing what normality was ta that point) I continued along life's road. Only at the age of nine, to be repeatedly molested by my older cousin. Such, are the evil things in life.
At the age of eleven, my family had moved out into the country, to redo a house (one of my mother's hobbies), and then, lo and behold, it burned down (theorized by investigators as to have been caused by my kid's 'non flammable' chem set). Awesome, right?
Well, the teenage years did not improve, having been home-schooled until ninth grade, I had all the social prowess of a rock. Degrading into a state of constant panic and anxiety; I became crippled in my avoidance of that which I hated, and turned to many suicidal extremes (though it wasn't the first time I had tried to kill myself, I was five the first time). My parents then decided I needed therapy; not from a therapist though, but rather, from them. Their version of therapeutic, was to strip my room of all my 'distracting' belongings (but for an old piano, I suppose because they didn't want to move it, weighed a ton). So, alone, going on fifteen, struggling to understand who I was; I sat... In a bare room with no sheets and shelves with no possessions to cling to. With every semblance of safety ripped away, I cracked. I began, somehow; to dissociate from reality entirely. Instead of losing my marbles, I became sociopathic to an extreme. I began to question at my school why such things had happened to me, and as surely as I opened my mouth; I was whisked away and CYS was knocking at my parents door for my siblings. I was sent to a residential Treatment Facility which I will simply refer to as 'the Glade'. It is was in this facility that I would remain until I turned eighteen, and chose to leave of my own free will.
Now, I am 23, and have no future. I am crippled socially, and psychologically. I have been fed more pills and medical jargon than one man's life can take. You know what... Life, sucks. Because, all I ever wanted, was love; from somewhere, from someone... Security, from somewhere, from someone.
But no. I, am the dying angel. Never meant to be a part of this world. That is my lot, and THAT, is where I stand.