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I am feared. I am loathed. I am despised.
People will do what I say. They will hate me, but they will succumb to a primal fear deep within and I will win.
The first time I gave voice to my personal desires was in a fit of rage. In time rage wasn’t required for me to make demands - and the demands were made more often. It mattered little who would be the object of my wrath and there have been many.
I do not have friends, only a grudging respect and forced obedience.
Perhaps it is a fear of brute strength - mostly it is a fear of the unknown that cause others to jump at my command. I laugh at such pathetic creatures that have so little self respect that they willingly agree so completely to my demands.
On the other hand, they didn’t see me when I was alone in my room - when my parents checked out - when the anger builds - when I would do anything to spend some time with my dad - when I cry – when I scream until my throat is raw - when I punch the walls – when I ...
I fear myself. I loath myself. I despise myself.
The way I choose to live is the only way I know how to make others notice me. Once it was classmates, teachers, principle and janitor. Now it is neighbors, co-workers, wife and children. I am noticed, and in that acknowledgement I balance precariously between peace of mind and emotional meltdown.
Try to help me and I will push you away. Try to get close and I’ll chase you away. Try to tell me God loves me and I will find ways to humiliate you. Try to be my friend and you will be hurt. Just try…
Please!
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