Prisoner of Your Own Mind

Revenge

With every heavy blow, or painful insult thrown my way, I could feel the pit of my stomach being slashed repeatedly as if someone drove a knife right through my gut. My hands would turn to sweat and tears as my reluctance to avoid further criticisms ran short. I can remember shivers on my body that only told me that danger was upon me and I will have to suffer the torture of my adolescent bullies. I was a marked man by others who saw the vulernability and fear in my eyes as they headed towards me.

Being humiliated infront of others only exacerbated my enemies to forge on and batter me with insult and physical blows to my chest. They were relentless as if they enjoyed torturing someone when the odds of fighting back was hopeless. I will never forget this period of my life where all I felt was fear and desperation to avoid endless mockery and hellish moments of my self-esteem being ripped from my soul. My years of middle school and high school were nothing but countless days of terror felt deep within my heart, and many opportunities of dispair and depression as my short-lived life turned into being preyed upon.

There were moments when I thought I could harbor enough courage to face my combatants, but it proved to be hopeless because fear kept me from doing anything. I felt trapped and inprisioned by it and that's how I lived my years, in utter misery. Without any hope to reach, I was a prisioner of my own fearful existence. Mentally, I could not tolerate the reality of being alive and in such a agonizing state of mind for days and days. I gradually began to look inward and let all the hateful remarks and intimitading lies, that my aggressors used on me, convince me that they true.

In a time of self-discovery and individuality, I was discovering my inner self-pity and buring myself in the sorrow. It was not the way I wanted to spend my childhood and miss out on what being alive and free meant. I felt trapped and confined by the weight of criticism and fear that my enemies constantly threw my way. Each expletive or threat drove me deeper into a bottomless depression.

They pushed me farther than I could take and made sure that I would never have that sense of peace and sanity that I so often admired from others. It was these men, these cowardly, abusive degenerates that showed me the harsh, cruel side of life. If there were any indications of a time of happiness and relief, my bullies quickly shattered the hope and replaced it with damaging results.

But one day, as if the previous trials of retribution and torture never existed, I began to get my revenge. Anger started to fill my body with dangerous feelings and designed plots in my head to wage war against the antagonists I would encounter in the future. High school was over and I had graduated, but a repressed rage began to manifest within my soul and take over my life. All the times of being vunerable and scared and all the times of sensing fear and inflicting punishment, created such a ferocity of self-hate and animosity towards life.

I never got a chance to use my newfound gift on my childhood agressors, but I would find much opportunity in the years to come.