"Unstill Life - From The Beginning"
Chapter 1
She entered the world under false pretenses. Her birth was supposed to serve a specific purpose, to achieve a goal for someone else (always for someone else). And with this, her very first task, she failed miserably. That spectacular first failure set the tone for the rest of her life.
It was very early in life that she realized she was “less than”. The Others mattered more, their thoughts and feelings were more important than hers. She learned quickly that if she just made sure everyone else was happy and comfortable then things were a little less turbulent and she was pretty much forgotten. And being ignored was fine with her. As long as she kept a low profile they, for the most part, let her be.
She was free to try to carve out an existence that she could function in. It consisted of daydreams and fantasy worlds where she was worthwhile and loved. And that was when times were “good”. When times were bad, it consisted of pain and nothingness. She considered it a victory when the pain was self-inflicted because that was pain she could control and deal with. The pain they inflicted, although not physical, was much worse. The nothingness was sometimes a blessed relief. She could shut her mind down to their names and their cruel remarks and their relentless belittling. And the overwhelming tension that filled the house was so thick and ever-present that she could barely breath.
She became a good little actress. She just had to do her part to keep up the appearance to the Outside World that theirs was a happy little family. Because Outsiders opinions are what mattered more than anything else to the Mother. Well, that and blind unquestioning obedience. So for all intents and purposes, she seemed happy and outgoing to everyone…on the surface. But inside she was dying a little more each day until finally, by the time she hit preteen years, her soul breathed it’s last breath.
She took solace in books when she was a child and then, as she grew older, music became her salvation. The books took her away from everything, albeit temporarily. The music served another purpose. In other people’s words she found herself. They spoke the words she either couldn’t find on her own or wouldn’t dare give voice to. The louder and chaotic and angry the songs were, the better.
It was around this time that the injuring started to really take hold. It began with bruising and small scratches. Digging her nails into the palms of her hands untill the blood seeped out when the verbal assaults would occur then later when she was alone, punching her thighs until the bones ached deep inside and she could barely walk without pain. But the pain was GOOD, it was life to her. As long as it was her pain, not theirs.
Chapter 2
She began to hate. Everything and everybody. She hated people for their very existence because their existence, for her, meant pain and humiliation. They imposed themselves on her. They did and said whatever they wanted with no concern for how it may affect her because she wasn’t supposed to actually feel the pain they inflicted. And because she wasn’t as worthwhile as they were. She hated that she wasn’t able to do it back to them. She was weak and easily intimidated. Easily held down by them. And although she hated them with every fiber of her being for doing those things to her, she hated herself more for allowing them.
She knew that she couldn’t fight them at their level. She realized that she herself apparently thought other people were more important too. She had empathy, she couldn’t bring herself to cause hurt to others since she didn’t like it. She found herself time and again, going to great lengths not to hurt them as they would inevitably hurt her.
She knows how pathetic she really is but seems powerless to change it. Solitude is her redemption, her sanity and her salvation. But in the few peaceful times there were, she knew that the peace was as fragile as an eggshell.
Chapter 3
She grew up in a house of anger, suspicion and mistrust. To the Mother, privacy meant secrets. And at a young age the girl already had secrets. The fantasy worlds, the hurting herself and the thoughts of suicide, the rage and hatred already all had a strong hold on her. And they were getting stronger by the day.
All she knew her whole life was negativity and fighting. It wasn’t the Parents (the Father had left years earlier) that she watched battle on almost a daily basis, it was the Mother and the Sister. The Mother wanting control and the Sister not letting it go. The girl withdrew because of it all. She tried at every turn to be the opposite of what the Sister was in a futile attempt to please the Mother. It never worked. No matter how hard the girl tried, the Mother always found something to berate her about. She was always doing something wrong. She tried to keep a low profile and sometimes it worked, but most times not. The Mother would seek her out to see what she was doing only to find fault with something.
The Mother would never let the girl forget all the sacrifices made on her behalf. Or all the things she’d done wrong. Over and over again she was reminded. She knew the Mother was ashamed of her. She was stupid and ugly and worthless. That she was conditioned to please and would go out of her way for other people despite her feelings about them, didn’t matter at all. It was expected of her to put Others first, especially Outside People since they were better than the girl after all.