/bs/ - backstory

We often feel this desperation. The feeling of being left out, forgotten about and shunned. Like a kid, all alone at home, waiting for the parents to come but they are away, somewhere there but not here. This emptiness, maybe not appropriate, but this bareness of being, in this moment when you are all alone and no one is there for you now. Empty rooms are lit but show no signs of life, and the home doesnt feel the way it should

How does it feel to be stuck in this situation? There is no feeling to be had. Unfeeling, the thing which you think dat at this point in time I should feel something but there is only no feeling. That is how it is, the rooms are empty and devoid of life. And still, you keep on the lights in every room. Check if the door is locked, turn on the TV and just wait. Until its time to sleep or just play a little. At times, the cable was cut and there was no TV and no internet. And in this time all wat I could hear is violent assault on the door. Banging about something, loud and pointless thing that he did. To terrorize just because, for no reason, and Im here, all alone. For no fault of my own Ive become a prisoner to circumstance that I have no power to affect. Im empty and all I feel is fear

Im still very bitter about things dat just happened long ago. Once, weve went to a ski hill. I dont know how to describe it, anyway, there is a wooden house here, on the hill, walk up the hill and you can ski from it. It is not an impressive hill, you have to walk up by yourself, it is not so fun as you would imagine. It felt pointless, simply waste of time. We did ski for a couple of times, maybe it was a hour or two, and then we went home. Time just flied like dat, it was unremarkable and I didnt like it. That was the unimaginative apology, or a bribe. To show his good face he did this and I didnt even know it. I didnt want it and I didnt care, because I knew who he was and how powerless I was that the only thing I could do is to play video games. The terror didnt stop, there was no stop to this, once at night I stood in stupor and fear, I cried, I was terrified, scared to my bones, to the point dat I could do anything but stand here. In the dark room, facing the door to the main room. All I could do is stand and cry and be terrified. I stood and listened, every hit and every beat, her pleas that he ignored. He unleashed brutality on her like it was nothing to him, he was an animal that only knew violence, he brutalized her and screamed at her pointless things. And she took it, everything, she apologized for some reason, she cried out some gibberish and here, in the bathroom, wat he did is inhumanity, destruction of humanity, he wanted her existence as human gone. Wat he wanted is puppet, an obedient slave, and he wanted to brutalize her body to such extent dat it will just give up any resistance. He was prisoner of his own success thats why he never stopped. He just continued the beating because he succeeded and thats wat he didnt like. And I just stood here. I had a phone with me but I were too afraid to do anything, I just stood there and cried, with my head lowered, and then…

And then the help never come. All this brawl just dissipated, somehow I slept, and the day after werent any better than this

Some are born unlucky. In the sense dat they have privilege of peace simply by them being born in a particular place. Though, that isnt true, perhaps not the whole truth. It is undeniable dat some people enjoy better life by simply being in a particular place. Some dont have such luxury, and there is not much they can do. This is not so simple, well, some people succeed in the slums but overwhelming majority of people in the slums didnt even have an opportunity. This is reverse for the people who live in a place where there are friendly people and friendly neighbors, caring family and good schools. Here, overwhelming majority succeds and some fail

Did I ever have a chance? I dont think so. Chance at wat, exactly? To do wat? My will and my desire for anything was so low that I simply couldnt answer to questions like wat I want to be or wat I want to do. I really just wanted to be, I wanted to be material but I were invisible, little human, unimportant and sorry. I wanted to be anywhere but here, I hated school because it was no better, wat I wanted is just nothing. I wanted everything to stop, and nothing to remain. And then I just played videogames, thats how it was, and it was for a long time not how I wanted it to be

There is an another story. Perhaps biased and a little jealous of me, but important nonetheless. There was a guy of my age. Brilliant guy, in retrospect ruthless, but otherwise charismatic, a bit. Likeable guy, and smart. I knew him for a long time and now I think about that his circumstance was no different. He lived like I did, in the same pointless violence, he felt the same way. And yet, he turned out to be very different. He pushed through his difficulties to overcome obstacles and he did dat with excellence. One point of difference was dat he had supporters, someone who cared about his future dearly and I didnt really have dat. In a sense, I did, but sometimes, tragedy is silent and loud beyond words to comprehend it, at first

And now I sit and think about this, I compare between us, and I see dat Im truly broken beyond salvation. Like a plate which fell on the ground by a slip, I was dat, someone beyond repair. Not because attempt was made and it was unsuccessful, no, exactly because there was no attempt and no care for me to be someone else. Ive lost, in comparison, on every point. And yet, Im proud, Im very proud of being how I am now. Im feel sense of this unshakable foundation, I feel to be found, in my self. I feel liberated for dat once I was a slave to terror and now I know dat I will not tolerate any terror as even a second of living like dat isnt worth living any more

Now I think dat Ive won the game. If it was any game, Ive survived. All that disturbed me doesnt no more, Im fully liberated and Ive found myself in myself

And did you win? Did your existence, like you are now, does it suit you? I remember the stories that youve told, of how bad your parents were bad to each other and how I come to think dat our circumstances were no different after all. And how wrong I was, there was never a comparison. Through your ruthlessness youve achieved everything youve wanted. I was always a listless being, barely a human, you were shining, dazzling ray of success by comparison. Nothing surprising, then, I came to be seen as abnormal guy and you… and watever you end up being

In my abnormality I have no regret. To make such a human as myself you have to work really hard as a parent and the environment. There is no excuse for me for who I am, and when I hear dat I must do this or dat or dat Im on the verge of recovering into someone I can only feel like no one has yet figured out the real state of the situation. That there is no normal to me, no recovery, there is other me to exist. There is no me but me like this, and I blame you. Not for all of this, no, not for the pointless violence and drama, fundamental uncare. No, I blame you for killing someone who I loved. Your brutality is incomprehensible, I will never forgive you for dat you had audacity to lay hands on someone who by mere existence could make truly happy. I have nothing but disdain for all of you, and for my self. I see dat it was over before it ever began. The only human that I truly loved was crushed, senselessly, and the worst of it all is dat he did it on himself. Sometimes, terror is so silent it makes your soul cold for dat when you realize the scale of this inhumanity, there is no longer any care for the world at all

When I go out, I see death. Nothing, just death on the street. Bodies of people who are dead, they have no soul in possession, their bodies are not theirs and they are dead, they exist only as mention. When I walk the street, I see pointlessness as concept come true, life in black and white pallette. We are already, all dead, and nothing of us remains. The bodies that we do not posses and the borrowed souls dat have to inhabit the bodies, there is no point to any of this. There is no us, we are unknown to ourselves, dead names in the archives, and nothing that we do means anything. There is no way for us to die as we are already, truly, dead

And then I see the trees. When I walk the street, the blocks after blocks remind me that this is wat our being is. The interior of our habitat. And then I look to the exterior. And I realize dat we are not human. No, we are not like dat. Wat we are is those trees. Thats who we are, in our tree existence we stand pointlessly and watch humans live their lives. Some drive in a car, some go on the side walk. And we watch them live their lives while our lives are still