Exactly when do you decide that its time to give up? Does the misery level have its own indicator stick to alert you from the dangerous zones, or does it come with an on/off switch?
CAUTION: WHEN THINGS ARE AWFUL, TURN IT OFF.
Strange thing, misery is. When you are feeling awful because of the wonders and joys life has been dumping on you, when you feel like its bursting out, exceeding your tolerance, the brain thinks shedding a gallon of salt water is going to make things alright. And it actually does! Its almost magical! You try finding solace by talking about it to others, they render you a whining pig. You keep it to yourself and sulk, they call you a miserable bastard. No one really knows how exactly you handle this misery.
So, basically, miserable is just in the head? If you are not hurt physically, means you can't be hurt mentally too?
No. That's where my story begins. That my dear, is another giant package filled with multiple hopeless attempts, bad lucks, and accompanying misery.
It all started that one fine night, when my mother went into premature labor, and lost more water than she should have. The Doctors had already predicted that they could either save the child or the mother. There. Right there. The very beginning of every other horrible things my life has been constituted of. I was never meant to be born. I was supposed to die right then and there. But as fate would have it, I was brought into this earth, with horribly dry skin and bad snake-skin like patches all over my legs due to the excessive premature fluid loss. And two bad conditions of duck-feet along with unset bones knee-down.
Three years old, raining like cats and dogs, I get a bad case of green Diarrhea, being that young, body is supposed to give up. There. Another signal for me to say Good Bye. But, No, one lousy Doctor actually ends up saving my life. Hence, another anomaly.
MISSION ABORT! MISSION ABORT!
Fast forward to Eighth Grade. Turns out my darling father has been having a fun-time with some whore from his office. There starts the drama of my adolescence. Endless name calling, endless fights. Not a moment of peace at home. Mom stayed back just for my sake. You know, how people reminisce about their firsts of experiences and fun during their adolescence? I can't even seem to remember mine properly. Its all sort of blurred from the endless tears my mother shed and from me having to wipe them off.
Ninth Grade, Dad gets two consecutive heart attacks in a go. Three major arteries blocked. The household becomes a panic room. I still remember how I was sitting by his bedside when he tore off his pack of cigarettes and vowed that they were his last. I know, defines trauma.
Two months after his by-pass surgery, evidence showed he had his fun-time back on schedule. I planned on confronting him. Atleast in whatever way I could. He vowed on my sake that he had given up on that side. Three weeks later two boating tickets in his front pocket, and not for him and Mom.
Yeah, shit happens. He is my father. He promised on MY SAKE. HE LIED. Well, ERGO, Everybody Lies.
Come twelve-th grade, owh, the first big love. Believe me, it was bad enough already. He decided he was only as good as friends, SHATTERED HEART. Was thoroughly disturbed. Literally, cried myself to sleep every night.
Started college, old bestie from school confesses minor feelings for me. I decided I had moved on, though I really hadn't... A week into the relationship, he decides that he had changed! wow. What an excuse.
Sophomore year, start dating a guy, one moth, starts snogging a girl at a party after getting drunk. Comes back, tells me she is 0.5% a better kisser than I am. Great, isn't it?
Junior high in College, start liking a guy that way... finally thinking I am over my first big love... Turns out he is actually the exact typical asshole I thought him not to be.
Anyway, don't really know if these long list mishaps are just happenings or intervention of fate decided to make me miserable for entire of eternity?
Hence, I ask... is this as hard as it gets? When does it end? Does it ever end?
CAUTION: WHEN THINGS ARE AWFUL, TURN IT OFF.
Strange thing, misery is. When you are feeling awful because of the wonders and joys life has been dumping on you, when you feel like its bursting out, exceeding your tolerance, the brain thinks shedding a gallon of salt water is going to make things alright. And it actually does! Its almost magical! You try finding solace by talking about it to others, they render you a whining pig. You keep it to yourself and sulk, they call you a miserable bastard. No one really knows how exactly you handle this misery.
So, basically, miserable is just in the head? If you are not hurt physically, means you can't be hurt mentally too?
No. That's where my story begins. That my dear, is another giant package filled with multiple hopeless attempts, bad lucks, and accompanying misery.
It all started that one fine night, when my mother went into premature labor, and lost more water than she should have. The Doctors had already predicted that they could either save the child or the mother. There. Right there. The very beginning of every other horrible things my life has been constituted of. I was never meant to be born. I was supposed to die right then and there. But as fate would have it, I was brought into this earth, with horribly dry skin and bad snake-skin like patches all over my legs due to the excessive premature fluid loss. And two bad conditions of duck-feet along with unset bones knee-down.
Three years old, raining like cats and dogs, I get a bad case of green Diarrhea, being that young, body is supposed to give up. There. Another signal for me to say Good Bye. But, No, one lousy Doctor actually ends up saving my life. Hence, another anomaly.
MISSION ABORT! MISSION ABORT!
Fast forward to Eighth Grade. Turns out my darling father has been having a fun-time with some whore from his office. There starts the drama of my adolescence. Endless name calling, endless fights. Not a moment of peace at home. Mom stayed back just for my sake. You know, how people reminisce about their firsts of experiences and fun during their adolescence? I can't even seem to remember mine properly. Its all sort of blurred from the endless tears my mother shed and from me having to wipe them off.
Ninth Grade, Dad gets two consecutive heart attacks in a go. Three major arteries blocked. The household becomes a panic room. I still remember how I was sitting by his bedside when he tore off his pack of cigarettes and vowed that they were his last. I know, defines trauma.
Two months after his by-pass surgery, evidence showed he had his fun-time back on schedule. I planned on confronting him. Atleast in whatever way I could. He vowed on my sake that he had given up on that side. Three weeks later two boating tickets in his front pocket, and not for him and Mom.
Yeah, shit happens. He is my father. He promised on MY SAKE. HE LIED. Well, ERGO, Everybody Lies.
Come twelve-th grade, owh, the first big love. Believe me, it was bad enough already. He decided he was only as good as friends, SHATTERED HEART. Was thoroughly disturbed. Literally, cried myself to sleep every night.
Started college, old bestie from school confesses minor feelings for me. I decided I had moved on, though I really hadn't... A week into the relationship, he decides that he had changed! wow. What an excuse.
Sophomore year, start dating a guy, one moth, starts snogging a girl at a party after getting drunk. Comes back, tells me she is 0.5% a better kisser than I am. Great, isn't it?
Junior high in College, start liking a guy that way... finally thinking I am over my first big love... Turns out he is actually the exact typical asshole I thought him not to be.
Anyway, don't really know if these long list mishaps are just happenings or intervention of fate decided to make me miserable for entire of eternity?
Hence, I ask... is this as hard as it gets? When does it end? Does it ever end?
