That Blessed Memory

March 2, 2017
By , pasco, WA

High school, this will be my fourth year being here in the same school, somewhat like middle school, just without the 8th grade ceremony. This place full of familiar faces and the same places, new faces and new names. I feel this place is an old place to me, as if I’ve been here before even way before I started going here. A little insight about myself; well I’m sixteen and a half, I’m a male student attending high school, and I have my social anxiety mixed in with my depression. It may not sound like much but it’s what affects me as I’m in school one hundred eighty days a year. 

What I’m wanting to talk about are some of the things I do go through; they may not be daily, weekly, or monthly, (that’s where the immature boys laugh) but it is what affects me as of right now. This started before I even started my first day of my junior year. If you’re wondering what this issue even has to deal with, well yes it is about a girl, someone that I grew very close to for over those eight months and four days. This was no ordinary girl that all the popular guys just want, this was a girl that was wife material, the perfect girl for to take care of kids, who loves kids! Well I suppose that this girl was just like my past, I am not comparing her to any girl from my past but, I told her about my past and yet she made it repeat. The one thing I was afraid of and she brought that back into my memory, the darkest place on this earth, darker than any cave system, more loudly than any concert. Probably the worst place to be in any deep thought. A simple side note, if I am ever spacing out, or I seem like I am in the clouds, I am actually in hell, thinking of my past and what I could have done to prevent so much. So much of just haunting memories float around waiting for me to stop thinking and to start re-watching those memories. They just are there to remind me of my past and how just horrible it was. May it be from something of yesterday or something from decades ago; yes, I even remember stuff from when I was little, only because that is played in slow-motion. It’s almost like how I see this world, I am very fast so everyone around me is either slow, or my time freezes and everyone around me is moving so fast.

I can’t talk about the girl because of how she made me feel. Simple, what is important to you? Money, perfection, friends, happiness, or even love. To me, my happiness is what keeps me thriving; it’s what keeps me going and what keeps me from the darkest corners of my mind. This may sound off topic but this experiment will show you how someone like me feels. Try to go to work, to school, even at home, and not speak to anyone even if they ask you if somethings wrong. Go to bed early way earlier than you have before, but still not talk to anyone, not even on social media. Try that experiment for a few days, if you think you can handle it, try it for one month. The next step to that experiment is to read tragic stories across the world, not only in your hometown, but all over the world. This little experiment will help you understand the feelings and the sorrows someone like me feels every day. Now back to my topic; happiness, now that can come with a lot of things, such as friends, talking to others, or even your relationship partner. Well, without those people, wouldn’t you feel lonely?

Here is one thing, what about social media? Oh that helps me so much, meeting new people, even people with the same disorders as I. I think without it, I would be so mute with everyone around me, which that would be so unbelievable. For me to have the social media, it makes me feel so happy to talk to a lot of people till I fall asleep, till the break of dawn and just have that warm feeling in my body. I know some millions of kids and teens go through that one heart ache that could have meant everything if they would have just saw it all till the end of time, but he or she decided to screw it all up for some small upgrade and drop you in the trash where even you feel that you belong there. I wish I could only reverse that feeling or even skip over that memory and forget it ever happened, and just maybe I would feel like I am put together properly and not torn apart inside.

It all could have ended great if I ignored the tall tale signs that hit me in the face. But what was I supposed to be looking for? I made her happy as can be, I gave her all of my time, all the things she wanted, missed classes in order to make her happy; and look what happened! I don’t understand how it all just hit the fan so fast that I became to blind to even look at her, let alone even try to say hi. As a senior whom is not graduating with his class, in the year 2017, I seem to not feel bothered by that, but about getting rid of that memory and just filling my mind with more and new memories so I can just lock that in a vault called “classified” and leave it behind. But what to do till then is what I keep thinking. What am I supposed to do? Who do I talk to about these deep thoughts? I’ve considered the unthinkable because I feel like I’ve hit the edge of the bridge and the rest is all blown up and gone. 

I just can’t stop thinking about everything that has happened to me, I just want all my memories to stop and go away so I can live a normal life. Why must I have the hardships that are related to my past? I can’t communicate with anyone without thinking on it. I stare off into the dark corners of my mind and space off into the darkness; which happens almost all the time in every one of my classes, even those where I have friends to talk to. I do apologize if this story has gone all over the place, I tend to go everywhere once I write something that is personal. If I got the chance and all the time in the world, I probably could write fifteen books all about thousands of different scenarios. Many with the same concept to get across, but all concluding a different story.
I believe many people in asylums have more will power to move on than I do. They are sane than I will ever be at my worst. Yes, I can have the worst in me come out, but only if I’ve been hurting for so long and have never had an outlet to let everything go. But that’s why my writing is my savior, but not my grace. I can talk about everything and anything but It’s not a human being with feelings, that can understand everything that I am pouring out into this, and many of my stories. It’s all just a blank face, with no emotion. A bright screen with writing coming fourth once I push my fingers onto its keys.  A piece of technology that emits sounds, that drown out mine. I could be yelling at this stupid thing, and it won’t budge or even yell back. But it will listen without it having an open ear to hear me.

Now how do I get through everything with anyone new in my life? It may sound difficult, but to me I have been doing in ever since I could remember. I simply hide who I really am and keep people away from my soft heart. Its damaged enough and I don’t want anyone else to break it. I bet if you took an x-ray machine to my chest, you would see my heart covered in bandages, staples, and duct tape; all because I have kept it all together by myself. You know there may be a few dozen little pieces missing, but as long as I find someone who I can care for, I won’t feel the pain that I have placed upon myself anymore. That is, until I get hurt all over again by the person I so call “my girl.” It’s almost like I’ve made it a part of my life. Fix all that I can even if there is no hope, and just think of happy thoughts until it’s all over and I can feel no more pain.

I may just end this story so I don’t seem like a complete loser. But I’ll continue to write more because I know somehow these stories will reach someone on the outside world and touch them because that’s the same or the closest to what they’re feeling every hour or every day. If I ever stop my writing or doing what I naturally do to make others happy, then anyone can see that I too am going insane and not being myself. I can tell you that back then I used to “kik” other users that were in dire need to be heard and to be taken care of. I was that person who would care for everyone; I had to remember real names instead of pen names, I had to remember birthdays that were further away from mine. I had to remember time schedules because I talked to everyone across the world; no one was really close to home. It wasn’t a service that I got payed for, it more of something that came from my heart that I did for free to help anyone who was struggling through their life and who needed someone that would listen to everything they had to say.

I stopped doing it after I failed one person out of the thousands that I talked to weekly. I talked to this person for many months, and that’s why I will be naming my kid after her; well when I’m old enough to have kids. I haven’t told my fiancé the reason for the name choice yet, but I know she will be a bit mad and understanding all at the same time; but we’ve had the talk where we will wait a few years and of course months to have our first kid. I hope nothing changes from this time till the next, not even the way my mind sees the world and how people are. I want everything for my kids to be safe, but I also want them to understand how cruel the world and people can be. That’s also why I still have my IPod which has many conversations from thousands of people, to show to my kids. 

If you must wonder why I am bringing up many things into a story that really has no theme, that’s all because I want to get things out an in the open for others to read and share their experiences with others around the world. Just as the world will be a monster, we as humans can only turn on the light and scare the monster right back.

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