The boy was confused, the man is defeated. The question that plagues me is whether it was my giving up or just me flat-out not having a chance from the start? The final result, either way you look at it is the same.
I have become known as a person who gripes and complains but offers no solutions, I could take offense at this but I cannot refute it in any way. I honestly don’t have the answers but I am not afraid to state the problem and do it in a rather accusatory way. There are people at fault and they have gotten away with too much. There are those who have grown cold to wrongdoing and tacitly endorse it. Then there are those who know wrong is being committed on the helpless and they do nothing.
There must be an age limit on caring, but as I think about it, then again there isn’t. My childhood was destroyed and then everything after it was destroyed again and again. When I exhibited the signs, and very clearly of an abused child I wasn’t protected. I was left to fend for myself, to learn how to live with absolutely no help. I learned things about myself along the way that continued to drag me further down. I desperately tried to keep my head above what was devouring me but eventually succumbed to its appetite.
It wasn’t any individual thing that did it, it was the massive accumulation of things that eroded hope, caused me to despise good, and tore away any happiness.
In the end it is a combination of things, but they all had their root in the beginning. A child abused, no one to care, and he was left to fend for himself. Thats the commonality of everything that proceeded to happen, thats the single thread that unraveled a life.
The boy was confused, the man is defeated. Religion became a farce, truth an ill-mannered guest and the whole house came tumbling down.
The Place to be Real 