Me, The Story

Your first thoughts, your very first memories, what are they? Usually an image we can't make out or flashes of color we can't quite piece together. My first, it is the image of a mirror. A mirrored wall to be more accurate. It was the image of the living room of the house I spent my first couple of years on this planet. A place that would become the petri-dish for the disease that would, for a lifetime, fester inside of me. And that mirror will forever be a reminder, of what, well, what does my reflection show?
I haven't always known, to this day I can't even visually remember what happened in that house, my home. Home, an idea that would be shattered and twisted for so long to me, and I never even knew it. Anyways, that first house was where it all started, for the shell that is me anyway. My body can remember much better then my mind can, ever will perhaps. My tiny body was violated. For the longest time what I felt, what I experienced, I thought it was normal. However, I couldn't help but feel dirty. Wrong. Very wrong. Shortly there after we gave up that house for shack in the middle god-forsaken land. Burned and brittle, with very little to offer. The memories come in flashes. I remember school. Being sick, so sick, so often. I remember, the, the bullies. The names I was called. I remember Relatives. Their violent actions. I remember when I first fell like I could never trust anyone. I was in kindergarten. I remember always being left out. Not being good enough. I remember the first time some one told me I was worthless. That was my cousin. My brothers hadn't even been born yet. My mother gave birth to four of us wretched creatures. Raised us she did, with my father. My poor sister. Her teacher didn't like her. She had a hard time, fitting in, being focused. I tried to be strong for her, for us both. I remember that car we almost died in. My mother, my new born brother, my sister...someone...else. I remember pain. And blood. I remember being hated and not knowing why. I remember taunting back, so I didn't feel, so weak. That day when our mother hid us away from the world. No more school. Our parents would be our teacher. I became the teacher, for myself. For my sister and my two brothers. My mother became, angry. Hateful. Hurtful. My father, he stopped being at home. I remember screaming, fighting, things being thrown. Protecting my siblings, playing with them, trying to keep them safe. I remember the heat, sometimes unbearable. Over 120* at times. I remember the cold. Freezing winters. No electricity. No running water. Most of my life, that is the way it had been. It was so hard to keep cool or keep from freezing. I remember those days when we weren't sure if we would eat. Only bread. I remember making it a game with the little ones. I know how much they struggled, my parents. The couldn't hide, most of the time they didn't from me. I'm not sure why. Then mom got a job. I became the parents. I was just becoming a teen. Then other people came into our lives. Before it had only been us, all the time, every time. We became apart of our "community", as some might call it. Enmeshed even more others would say. I didn't know. I never understood. How can you when all you know is all you have been taught? This "community" was very good at "using" their "resources". I remember being used often. Most of my girl friends, well let's just say I know what a verbal punching bag is. I was an ego buster for them. And for the guys, well, I was there toy. And there was nothing I could do, why, because I was worthless. I had been told that since I was five, since I five. It had been well ingrained into me. What I felt didn't matter. Especially if my mother was "helping" someone. They needed her and she could help them. She thought we were safe. You should be safe, in your own home, in your own bed. I began to feel a if that was all I was good for, that was the only kind of love for me. That was real love, being used. I am worthless after all. I remember when my Grandmother died. She went for a visit with our Uncle and never came back. It was the first time I saw my tough father cry. It was out fault, Uncle said. And we didn't see him again. I remember loosing our home. I remember friends dying. Those first bruises my the "boys" who "loved" me, sometimes I swear I can still feel them. It was just a game. If I didn't please. I remember being touched. Hating it. Liking it. Hating myself for liking it. I remember the first time a that thin blade pierced my skin. The first time I felt in-control. I felt real. I felt at all. I remember reading others words to hide in a dream. I remember drawing life to forget the night-terrors, unable to wake myself. Dancing and poetry to express things I felt I could never say. With each passing day of this life I sank farther and farther into despair. I remember so hard trying to not exist. Trying to die. I wanted that. So much. That little putrid glass dish had become an uncontrollable illness of mass proportions. I was no longer a human. I so I feel as I look back. Just an empty shell, a fragile doll about to break.
Then the worst year of my life happened. Someone I hated worked their way into my already shattered life and obliterated it. I despised this person when first meeting. After my mother decided to help someone there was nothing anyone could say. And like all atrocious circumstances, he gravitated towards me. He lived with us, he did everything with us. It was easy for him to sink his fangs into me. His poison slowly yet surely took me over and I had lost what little I had had. I took everything from me. My heart, My soul, My virtue. I had never felt more disgusting. I felt like it was all I had to look forward to. He was everywhere. Then it happened. I had missed a month. Then another. But then I didn't. I was regular. Or so I thought. No I had a life growing inside of me. Then there was the fire, making us flee. Then the pain that sent me to the hospital. The life had come out and almost took me with it. Then deaths. Homeless. Many deaths.
For the first ever, I was to leave my family. I was going off to school. Alone. So many emotions. I never could fit well with others. I hate money. A few months went by and my father had a stroke. He was so helpless. It was horrible. That was thanksgiving. That christmas, however, would prove to be the worst day of that year. Or just a reminder of how crap, is my life. My father, still half crippled from the stroke that almost took him away, was accused of attempted murder...with a shot gun. He was swept away to prison. Unknown to us. That was a very long holiday. He was sick, invalid. We had no idea were he was. And then a week later there he was. Broken. What hell was, he knew.
That spring something amazing came into my life. My beloved Sora. The first person to make me feel like a person. I wish we had been a little bit stronger. He was the first person I told my life to. That following christmas, after he had ask my father, he asked me to marry him. I became a bit closer to reality, a little farther away from the family and all I knew. Or for awhile.
We married, what a day I couldn't wait to be over. My family almost made it unbearable. They, still to this day, believed I was being stolen. Didn't help much that they didn't prize my college graduation a few weeks earlier either. Things I had worked so hard for. All on my own. A broken doll trying to dance. In the following years I found out it wouldn't happen for long. That it should never of have. But I couldn't be who I am with out it. For the next several years would drain me down to the very last drop of life. Any passion I ever had for life, for faith, for love, siphoned away by greed leeches. I trusted people. I gave all I had and they took. I worked for this place for five years. I couldn't never please them. The path that they claimed to follow was not what it ever was really about. There were souls whom I came to love dearly. So many of them I fought for. Trying to show them love I had never experienced. They eagerly took but gave not much if anything back. A family That I took on as my own. As I should had been aware, it was a bad idea. Why? because the worst of the broken are drawn to me, and I cannot but help to let them feed off of me. I am worthless. Do what ye will. I didn't even know what was happening to me. How much more could someone be made to feel worthless? What was I? I had no faith? I wasn't strong enough. I would never be good enough. Then it all fell apart like the lie I didn't see it as. Those who I believed cared where only in it for their own agendas. No one believed in me. Was I really that awful of  person? I had done wrong. My worst mistakes were weakness. Wanting abuse and not knowing. being drawn to it. I trust snakes paints as flowers. They laid their trap, neatly bonded by what they were. The mistake of not being able to see what it was I needed. Of what they were. Abuse, any kind. It's want I needed to feel real. I didn't. Huh, now I do. How sad is the heart that helps with desires of its own, only to. I was , am so incredibly broken. I never believed I was perfect. Above anyone. In fact I believed I was lower. I always said that. Yet no one would lift me up. Not even half efforts at best. Just so they could keep me around a little longer to take what they needed from me. Now I tried harder then ever to take my life. I was so close. I was almost gone. Just a few more pills. A little more blood.
But no my beloved Sora had found his strength, and he fought for me. For months I lay here in recovery and he still fights. I look back at my life and finally feel as if I am alive. Because he loves me. His love is amazing. He fights so hard. We have been through so much. I have known a struggle or two. But I finally believe that love is more than a fairytale. That life can be real, and happy. That Bad things may happen but our choices are what can make ore break us in the end. What path we take is our choice. I could have had a much harder life. I could have made worse choices. I have love now and I will fight to keep it. This is no flight of fancy. I know it is more then a feeling. This will never disappear because we won't let it. It will change. It will grow. But it will forever be ours.
Now, now I will live in the future.
And just maybe, I am worth something...