The beginning

Thus, finally the birth of my blog have been officiated. Do i feel satisfied? Perhaps. I'm hoping i will. This is meant to be a place for me to whine and grind my heart out, pour it, dish it, douse it in gasoline with hopes i set it on fire, never to see it ever again! I will also disregard the pillar of english language ie grammar in this tomb my heart will call home. None is suppose to know about this save for a few. I wish there be aplace for me to pour my heart out to the eyes of the world yet remains obscure to those who really surrounds me at this moment. I always considered friendster. It provides a blog. Yet, it is much too public. If the people knows my real thoughts, i might be played alive. Most likely, i would be considered the prima donna in the team, something that i absolutely do not wish to be labeled as. I mean, slut is one thing but prima donna? I'm not a bloody actress on some unknown island acting my life out as if it was dramatized and scripted!!!! (fat chance) think i absolutely lost that one. I want to go to the toilet. Sitting here, in the cold really tells me i need the loo. It is oddly windy for the past few days. Suspiciously. Almost as if something might go amiss. I wonder if i have the effecton people to make them sad. Okey, brace yourselves, here comes the torrent. Truth be told, i have always been cursed. Born with the curse of making others hurt. Really, its an inborn talent more than anything. Fact is, it isn't my attitude. I put up weird fronts and there have been moments that i might have offended the second or the third party but in the whole, i can withstand myself. Yet, there will be that one moment, that one moment that you know me when you wish that i do not really exist. I guess i'm gonna brush through everything now. My eyes are quite sleepy though my brain wishes to rave on. It's cause i'm pretty much alone here, at the food court in my campus grounds, and the second is, that i just bawled my eyes out. Yeah, pathetic isn't it? Should have started the blog earlier, that way i can place the opening of some sort and manage to settle my heart at rest.

I guess there are so many things clouding in my heart. That's why i have decided to create this almost as every other tom, dick, harry, jane and suzanne have. I need another way of release thus i have opted for one full of words. Which brings me to another point, i am tired of this.

I suppose, in the end i will write something that i have been longing to write, or tell to those who wish to listen. There are few by the way, in case you're wondering. I don't fault them (i realise i keep on saying this in fear anyone takes offence or misunderstands). I am currently in University, two years after high school and the change, truth be told, is devastating. I feel so extremely worthless right now, it completely beats the shit out of the teenage blues.

Technically, what i have written up there was true. In the group that i am in, though it might seem that i have found a place, i am indeed that. Okey, as usual, now that the moment of truth has come forth, i wish not to share anything. Way to go brain! This is the way we solve things! Therepeutic, you are not!

This will be a simple entry for me. I'm hoping not to rely too heavily on the blog. It is afterall a crutch that, if used too often, might cause more damage than good. I want to tell my story. I guess at this moment, now, i will force it out of me though incomplete it will always be, but i have much pain in my chest at the moment (i swear it hurts so much at some points, it becomes physical).

Okey, here goes. We will start with the basis of any family. I have two parents, loving as they are along with an older sister, and a younger brother. Frankly, my relationship with my siblings are by far one of the best i have seen. We rarely argue and even when we do, true to sibling affection, we simply forget about it. No, in my case it is hardly the siblings who cause the problem but rather my parents. Yeah, i know. Typical. If it isn't the drunk sister, it's the abusive father. But no, i assure you, it isn't any of that. They're... nice people if you really wish to use the words. And they have raised me enough to the point that i feel honesty to be the best policy. Yet they made some mistakes. Mistakes, which i have to live for as it has been rooted so deeply within me, i find it difficult to change. And other times, i feel as if i do not want to. These 'qualities' are my pride and my idealism. Note that one is a sin. The other might as well be in reality.

I am the second, thus in the stages of my growth, to a certain time, i find myself being the youngest. As the youngest, i was rarely spoilt, this i can say with a clear conscience. Yet i was loved. Even more than my older sister during those years. However, God foresaw the damage that could have been done thus, i was given a brother. A younger brother. In a snap, those who used to croon at my sight disappeared. As i type this, a part of me noted how selfish i am yet the other feels too much the stab of pain. All of a sudden, i was only the second. As this happened, i retreated into myself becoming much quieter in family gatherings, allowing my brother to absorb the attention. At that moment, i shall highlight a trait that has lasted till today, my refusal to speak if others do not wish to hear. People then are much more willing to look at my brother than me anyway, thus when i kept my thoughts to myself, coupled with my growing mind, everything seems to make sense. As the years passed, there became an apparent distinction between the love divided in the family. My father happily dolts on my older sister who was blossoming into a young woman and my mother grips my brother in a strong powerful embrace. For years it remained in that stalemate from small evidences to blatant obvious indications of the affection. I was not parched for love, if anyone thinks i am. Rather, enough fell onto me, yet now, i will make another confession. I saw the love my brother and my sister recieved and i wonder, why not me? Selfish is it not? Yet the fault as you can see, was not their own. It isn't my mother's fault that my brotehr was much more likeable and it isn't my sister's fault that she is so appealing and attractive enough inclusive of affectionate enough to recieve what she want. I was always the black sheep and i do not say this with contempt but rather as a fact. Since i was young, i was impressed with the way of the sword. I admired fighters and their pride, thus, this was the biggest influence in my life and i become the creature you see today. Anyway, i say the clues are blatant because my brother, who then was perhaps 7 or 8 mentioned it. A small thing really the slip that my parents made but, alas, it shall be said that i will never forget it for the rest of my life. Then, in those years, i realize how unwanted i am within the family. How whole the family would be without me. It was not as if my presence was necessary anyway. My sister could still handle every chore that comes away without my intruding hands and my brother can continue with his life without me. My parents, truth be told, would be the most relieved of them all. I was a curse in their sight and with this in mind, they made decisions. It hurts. It often does, but you learn to bear with the pain. I had to anyway. Only in those years, i dreamed of nothing but suicide. I dreamt of homicide. I hated humanity and my bloodlust dragged forth to form a monster who i am. I was akin to murderers in those days. I believed i could take a life and imagined the exhilaration of taking my own. Yet, i had a conscience and in those years, i invented a second part of me, formed her from nothingness to keep me sane.

Yup, most would think i am insane at this moment though what i said was to combat that situation but it was true. At the age of fifteen, i walked the surface of this world with an imaginary friend grasping my hand. She supported me when all failed me because, i have found out, through some odd coincidence, in the moment i wished help for the most. none would be there. Really? You might say. It is impossible to be alone in this world. Yet, to make me strong, God crafteed incidences like this. Thus when i cry, i often cry alone. My heart would twist in pain yet when i speak, none would hear. It was fate.

I learned something from this cursed fate of mine. I learned to be there for others. I learned that no one was meant to be alone in this world and if i am capable, i will assure that everyone has at least a candle to light their path. I would not leave others in darkness. Yet, in this aspect too i have failed many times. There were countless times when they needed me yet i did not answer their call. It pained me to know my humanity limited me but, in reality it was my curse. I have let my friends suffer, thus i have sinned. I am the destroyer.

This being that i formed from the depths of my mind... she guided me. I would imagine stories which both of us could partake in. I detached myself from reality and formed a cocoon of my own, trapped in my own world where i see naught the horrifics of reality. Time passed, and in those dark years, i gained an empathy so deep that the pain of others easily striked home into my already wounded heart. I understood them in that moment as if their pain was my own. I could see through their eyes so clearly. Those were the years that my selfishness was at its peak, yet it was a time of semi-compassion for me as with one hand i could kill beyond repair, with the other i dared heal the pain of others. What pain i could heal anyway. I wish to blame this on the imperfection of man but, others have restored the pain so easily. They healed with a smile, with a touch, with a kind word yet i had not those qualities. I delved in their own pain, tearing them from within. Detroying every essence that made them whole, then, finally, upon coming to an understanding, i could heal. My hands were wrought for destruction. I had not the capabilities which made me pure. I was tainted, my gifts lying in the dark arts of magick unlike those who touched and healed. I was still Lucifer and my pain, then, was easily manipulated.