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 Apology and History

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AuthorMessage
Calamitas Deus



Posts : 3
Battle Points : 4
Join date : 2013-09-02

PostSubject: Apology and History   Sun Oct 13, 2013 7:51 pm

Herein I'll explain my experiences and apologize for my recent behavior. Knowing my history is practically mandatory for understanding my actions in the present, so bear with me.

I was born to a father who was slow of mind and hard of hearing and a mother who was addicted to drugs, alcohol, and rage. They divorced shortly thereafter, and my grandmother, saint that she is, charged into court and took legal custody of me. I never really got to know my father, thanks to the fact he got incarcerated for attempted murder. My mother was only interested in mooching money from my grandmother (she never succeeded) and beating the crap out of me for doing whatever it is I did wrong as a child.

When I went to school, it was quickly shown that I was a "gifted" kid, but due to my situation, I was also quick to anger. I was assigned to a special education class, and the teacher was almost like a clone of my grandmother. Things were fine until fourth grade, when that teacher was reassigned to the mentally disabled (called "retarded" back then). Instead of teaching the smart kids, she got the kids in wheelchairs who couldn't stop drooling.

I took it personally.

Bereft of the only thing in school I really cared about, I was introduced to the concepts of hatred and vengeance before anyone realized it. My grandmother and I moved, so I had to go to a different school. I had already begun hating my situation, so I turned to anger as my mother had. I had hoped that I could return to my first school, but that was wishful thinking on my part.

My childhood from that point on was made up of going to different schools, giving each school no choice but to get rid of me, while also going in and out of a hospital to see if medication could "fix" me. My hatred only grew. Eventually, my grandmother sent me to a group home that advertised using horses in their therapy, but that was a lie. She also couldn't take me back after six months, because their policy was nine months, and they threatened her with court if she took me home.

All throughout my life up to this point, it is beaten into my mind that emotions are evil, anger is evil, and I am not fully human. I was treated not as a person, but as an object of wrath, as if that was all I was capable of, and thus required repairs. I was seen as a thing of darkness and rage.

Finally, ten years ago, my counselor at the time decided to deceive my grandmother and me. He took sixteen absences I had from school that were excused and lied to the state, saying I was truant. I was made a ward of the state and ripped from my grandmother. I was put into a juvenile detention center like a common criminal. Nobody cared about what my grandmother had to say. Nobody listened to me, either.

In fact, the judge should not have even been on the job that day. Her husband had died within that week. She was distraught. The caseworker assigned to me had also conspired against me. Every positive thing in the report she was to present to the court was edited out by her before the actual court date.

The sentence was a psychological evaluation that should have taken two weeks. It took two months. It said I needed an enhanced treatment group home, and since there wasn't one available, I was sent to a residential treatment care facility instead, which is basically one step higher in terms of security.

At that facility, the counselor who was first assigned to me did her job well. Her plan was to send me home right away. However, she moved to another state, following her husband and his new job. Her replacement was a lying son of a bitch who tried to control every aspect of my life as long as he had a position of authority over me, which included trying to hypnotize me into not going on a road trip to see my grandmother's mother. Thanks to him, I went to another group home instead of going home.

This second group home was run by a total control freak, and the staff was perfectly happy to fall in line. We, the "inmates," were not allowed to have any semblance of free will. We weren't allowed likes, dislikes, opinions of any sort, emotions, or much of anything else. They were more strict than the military, and more heartless than «Link Joker». If Satan had an army, they would be captains.

Manipulated like a pawn, I shut down entirely, withdrawing so deeply into myself that I couldn't feel anything but anger. I had become the object of wrath that I was treated like my entire life. When I finally got home, I let that fury loose all at once, like a volcano detonated by C4 and dynamite in the midst of its eruption. Those who annoyed me were lucky to live on. Those who didn't knew to stay out of my way.

I was a demon in human skin.

Five years later, a friend of mine introduces me to a church. I spend a year or two there, letting my fury be on full display. No one showed any desire to even try to get close, so I left that church. I then found another one, and they did everything one would expect a good Christian to do. I became one of them, and even to this day I continue to wrestle with the darkness that stains me.

That is now my reality. I present fact in the way things were presented to me in the past: as unbreakable law under pain of suffering. That's not a very good way to represent Christ, and for that, I apologize. This faith is not something that can be shoved down someone's throat. Compassion and kindness are not my strong points, but they are necessary for Christian living.

And now, the present. I still don't know if it was worth my time and effort to post this. Due to my history, I see people as mostly threats to my survival, especially if they aren't Christian. I use anger to defend my heart against such threats. I'm not saying I'm right to do this; I'm not. It is simply my initial reaction to almost everything. Because I know how deep the darkness goes, having been there myself, I distance myself from everyone. An object of wrath has no place among men, and people are generally better off without ever encountering me.

And so I apologize. I should not have presented Christianity in the way I did. I probably shouldn't have joined BSA to begin with. I probably should have taken my life when I had the chance. I'm sorry to exist only to cause others anger or suffering. I'm sorry to dishonor God with how I represent Him.

Now, let me be forgotten.
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