To hell and back, part 1

Got these memories coming back, that I’m not sure I’ve ever written about. My minds forgetfull though..

Anyway.. I was in that city where a lot of bad things happened. That I had to go away from.

My life was dark, like all the colors were drained out of it. The streets were cold and I tried to find some comfort in all the wrong places. With all the wrong people. At least for a long time. This mostly was because I was addicted and alone, out of contact with myself, my family and friends. Basically just lived under my personal rain cloud, with my head in a thunder storm. The only thing that seemed to calm me down was using so much that it would knock me out. Until I was flying on the ground, wishing to never come back down. But it did, even more so.. the whole world crashed down on me. I played that game over and over and over again. Living in a cloud of smoke. With the neighbour and his son. He had a green parrot too. Poor animal.

I could write a lot about the toothless neighbour but it’s probably better not to.

He wasn’t the one who introduced me to drugs. Some girl had done that before him, I was 13 back then. That’s another story.

The young ones came to the neighbour. Into the “family”, that they felt they didn’t have and he would give them “candy”.

My parents knew where I went off to. I practically lived there. They didn’t come to take me away from there. That’s when I learned how alone I really was. How loud silence is.

It wasn’t difficult to find out what the neighbour wanted in return, I never gave him that but he seemed to like the chase. I hated it but he had brainwashed me, believing that everyone else was bad for me. He claimed me entirely. He made me into his little underaged pet. I had my own bed there but he always asked if he could lay with me. I told him to leave me alone but I had to repeat myself over and over.

When I came downstairs in the morning he had cigarettes already rolled for me. He’d put in his teeth and we would sit all day. Talking, listening to music, having visiters.. often other neighbours and kids coming over. We would watch the tv. Watch photo albums or make them. Mostly we would smoke cigarettes and joints, drink coffee and have alcohol after noon. I never had to go to school. On the contrary he wanted me to stay, always. He took me with him to his sons kick box training. I was there with him like some pet dog. But actually I was dumber than a dog.

Eventually it became harder for him to keep me there. I ran off to fall for the wrong boys. Came back to the “family” again when my heart broke. At least what was left of it.

These were confusing times because there were two neighbours. The toothless man that eventually had made me his pet and another guy, a pathological liar who desided I was his girlfriend. I met him before I moved to that hell hole. Instead of going to school I’d go to him. So he would use me so hard I wouldn’t feel anymore. He introduced me to the toothless neighbour. They told lies about each other. Played me out between them. To confuse me. I felt like I had no one and couldn’t trust anyone. They used my pain against me and fucked me up mentally. So I was their little doll, they pulled the strings. Feeling like kings in a no mans land.

A lot of crazy things happened. Too much to write about now. After about two years of this I wanted out. They both had violated me in every possible way and I had done that to myself and more. I had become a ghost.

A fragile grey skinned alien in a dark world. Skin and bones. Surrounded by smoke and mirrors. Everything about me screamed, everything but my mouth. My mouth was sealed. The toothless man told me he would blow someones head off if he would talk. I kept silent. After a year I went to the police to try and help some girl still stuck there. By telling my story. The police did nothing because I was stoned when it happened.

The neighbours and their “family” kept calling me and kept looking for me when I left. They would come to me trying to convince me to come back. Everywhere I went I looked nervously over my shoulder. Some places I still don’t want to go back to. I changed my number eventually because it didn’t stop.

For some time after that I was on the streets. Staying with strangers or walk off the cold at night. Looking to score, or a place to crash. But it was always for a price. I was lost in a dark world of pain and suffering. Finding it at places that should never see the light of day.

Geef een reactie

Vul je gegevens in of klik op een icoon om in te loggen.

WordPress.com logo

Je reageert onder je WordPress.com account. Log uit /  Bijwerken )

Google+ photo

Je reageert onder je Google+ account. Log uit /  Bijwerken )

Twitter-afbeelding

Je reageert onder je Twitter account. Log uit /  Bijwerken )

Facebook foto

Je reageert onder je Facebook account. Log uit /  Bijwerken )

Verbinden met %s