In My Mind

April 14, 2009
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HE

It doesn’t hurt. Well, not that bad at least. You get used to the pain people inflict onto your body and soul. And even in time the bruises eventually seem to just…go away.

People tell you, “Oh! You have to tell someone! This can’t go on! You need help!” Heh, they say that, but who am I going to tell? This can totally go on. I don’t need help. I mean, really, what am I ever going to do about this? I’m a fifteen year old girl with no way around the problems I have. No counselor can help me; no SUPREME COURT JUDGE can ever save me. I’m at a loss. For as long as HE is around I will always be in agony. Always. My mommy says HE hits me because HE loves me and wants to show me discipline, but couldn’t HE just ground me then? HE doesn’t have to go around hitting me for small things like not cleaning my room, or not making my bed. HE could just…yell. But no. HE hits me! HE hurts me! HE abuses me! And there’s nothing I can do about it…





The Thoughts of a Thoughtless Person



I polish, scrub, and cleanse myself, but the bruises never go away. The pain. The nastiness of the situation. It just won’t go away. To me, it’s like being in a concentration camp. I work when I’m told, I eat when I’m told, I speak when I’m told, I get beat when HE feels like it is time for me to get beat, I sleep when I’m told, my life is run by someone else and I’m trapped. So, to me it is a lot like a concentration camp, because in the end I already know my fate. I already know what is going to happen. I may not be put in a gas chamber. I may not be gunned down by some military unit. No, I may just die from the heartache. The heartache of knowing I am alone.

The sad truth is though is that I’m not in a concentration camp, and I’m not being persecuted for my beliefs, like the poor Jewish people. I’m in the real world. The real world, where everyone is accepted for who they are. Where people have learned to work together, and love one another, and love every single race in the world! Then, why do I feel like this? Why do I feel like I am being persecuted for being me?

My only reprieve from this retched place that I call home is school. And I don’t even get to go there often. I don’t get to leave home very much. People would notice me if I did, and HE doesn’t want that to happen. If people started to notice my bruises and pain, they would start to ask questions, and asking questions gets people into trouble. And I don’t want trouble. So, I don’t really talk to many people, which means I don’t have many friends. Or any friends at all. I had a friend once though! She was real nice…real sweet, but we couldn’t be friends for long. HE didn’t like the fact that I had a friend. Her name was Amie. She had blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and the nicest smile in the world.

But one day though she wasn’t allowed to come over anymore. She started to notice my bruises and scars and she told her parents. HE didn’t like that to well. So, HE forbid her from coming over and playing with me. HE said that HE didn’t want her over because she seemed like a bad influence for a young mind like mine. She wasn’t though. She was never mean. Never cruel. HE was just afraid is all. HE was just afraid of people finding out the truth. HE was SCARED!

My life isn’t anywhere near that now though. HE’s not fearful of anything. HE knows that I could, and would never do anything to jeopardize HIS life and the life of my family. What could I ever do? HE helps my mommy out. HE gets us money. HE is the only reason I’m living in a house right now. So, what could I ever do? Nothing… that’s the answer… nothing.

HE is the main source of life in my world. My world and my mommy’s. HE is the only reason we will survive. The only reason we get to eat. The only reason for everything.

They say “a crazy man never knows when he’s crazy.” Am I crazy? Am I insane for thinking the way I do? I think I am. But then I remember that saying and reality comes back to me. I’m not crazy. I never was. And everything I think is correct. Everything HE makes me believe is correct. I am not the molder of my mind. HE is. HE says HE is the only one who can show me the good and bad, the right and wrong, the everything. HE says that a young person with an open future should not be made into a waste of flesh. Then what am I? I don’t even think for myself anymore. Except for these thoughts, but soon I don’t even think I will have these. I am not me. HE is me. HE will always be me. No matter what…





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Jaquie This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Aug. 12, 2009 at 10:00 pm
Wow. It's been long since I've come by such raw emotion. I love it. You are a very talented writer. Keep it up. God bless, ...,
 
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