"When I was a boy, I used to think something was wrong with me. I experienced harsh treatment daily and nightly, if it wasn't from school, it was from home. It was a back and forth pattern that had occurred for me everyday. It was like I was trapped. I used one hell to escape the other. After a long day of being scolded by teachers, bullied by peers, and struggling in my studies, I would look forward to coming home... only to be scolded by my father, bullied by my siblings, and struggling in my chores- it would make me look forward to attend school the very next day... only to repeat the depressing never ending cycle. Throughout the entire process, I was alone. I tried to make friends but in the end, they always found a way to hurt or disappoint me within a day. I merely felt it was best to be completely alone and isolated. It was the safest. To fight all my battles solo made me stronger.
The only time I found peace was in sleep, that was if my mind wasn't clouded by nightmares,-and I found peace when I would walk by myself to and from school. These were like my short breaks from both hells when I didn't have to endure either of them. These short long lived moments instilled great peace in me for awhile, but I was soon to learn it wasn't enough. I started to look for a new escape outlet. I was desperate to break the cycle. Instead of returning home one day from school, I found myself stumbling in a library. The atmosphere was as peaceful as the waves in a small lake- tranquil. There was no screaming, everyone was required to speak in a hushed tone. I was surrounded by endless knowledge. With the sole purpose of this wondrous location, it wasn't a surprise I took on the challenge to read. I found myself reading a diverse number of genres; poetry, history, dramas, mythology, fairy-tales, biographies, fables, horrors, mysteries, and informational stories were to name a few. It helped fill the void and distracted myself from my miserable life.
Of course, nothing could be perfect. I was soon to realize that the more I obtained knowledge, the more miserable I became. I started to deeply question my life and why it was this way. It was truly unfortunate.
My intelligence was something I could no longer hide when I started to excel in my studies. Many of my professors were shocked to see such improvement that they could never take credit for. The school decided to move me up to more advanced classes and I was no longer surrounded by my troublemaking peers. For once, my father was extremely proud of me during this time and I found that my life was improving. He demanded that I partake in no more chores so I could completely dedicate my time to my studies. My siblings were forced to pick up on all of my chores, the increased amount of work made them grow to hate me.
In my new classes, I was surrounded by arrogant people. I don't know why I expected the smarter people to be better than my previous peers. They were just as bad. They believed they were better than everyone else and jokingly referred to the students below them as "peasants". They were all in competition with each other to be the best. Despite that they were a little more mature, each word they spoke was laced with a fake kindness. They were all hungry sharks waiting to surpass the other. It was brutal. I wanted nothing more than to stay away from them. That was when I had learned it was unsafe to trust and befriend anyone. I have always longed for friends and companionship but after all I have witnessed, I no longer craved it. Befriending anyone was a large risk in itself. For the first time in my life, I was grateful that I was lonely. I wasn't truly happy but given my circumstances, it was for the best. A single friend could've been the cause of my possible downfall.
Randomly in my youth, I had hit a growth spurt and towered over all my peers. I wasn't even in middle school yet. They started to find me intimidating and strived to avoid me at all costs. It was simple, I avoided them and they avoided me- and that was that. The school days soon became long, dreadful, and boring. I was starting to lose my interest in learning. I feared that I would lose motivation and fall behind.
One day I had returned home later than usual. My father did not care of how late I stayed out, as long as my grades were good, he granted me any freedom I desired. I was headed to my room when I heard the softest sobs in the kitchen. Curious, I inspected it. I found my little sister Belarus crying at the table. I wasn't good at being emotional support but I couldn't bring myself to leave her. When I asked her what was wrong she explained that she was struggling in school and was on the verge of being left back. She feared her friends would forget about her and she truly despised her teacher and couldn't withstand another year with them.
I wielded such intelligent power that I could easily help her. Although I was hesitant because I did not want to set her up for disaster. What if I made her too smart and she had to endure the vicious arrogant students like me? I offered to help her but I warned her of the possible cost. She thought about it momentarily but accepted. I began tutoring my little sister everyday after school. Soon I found that I was tutoring all of her friends as well. I don't know how it happened, it just did. My tutoring group started collecting more and more students to the point my father refused to let anyone else in his household. It was quite an amusing time. I may not like many people but I didn't mind children who desired to better themselves. Such pure innocent souls who were not entirely corrupted yet- I wish I could've had that perspective of them when I was of that age. That year, I made their teacher look like the best damn teacher in that school. It slightly irritated me that they took credit for my work but I let it go.
Because of this entire experience, Belarus was the sibling I was closest to. She was my favorite, all my other siblings were jealous of my intellect except her. She was inspired by it and now she is of an intelligent person herself. My father was proud of us both and excused us of many things. This started to make my other siblings envy us- green-eyed monsters! I could feel their hatred towards us, it made me quite uncomfortable. But there was nothing I could do, I'm not apologizing for being smart. I would have taken the time to help them to be like us if they had asked. They never did.
When my tutoring sessions died down, I once again felt empty. I was losing motivation in my studies. I decided to take a walk one day to help gather my thoughts. I had dedicated my entire life to my studies because it made me escape the hardships I had endured as a child. I had nothing else to live for. No goals, no aspirations- it was quite depressing. I wanted to change it but I didn't know how. I had passed a frozen lake on my journey. I was tempted to plunge myself and drown in the freezing waters. But my mind was taken away from this thought when my gaze locked on the ice skaters that danced upon the ice. They looked so free. I used to ice skate myself when I was a very small boy, I sadly didn't remember much. I finally felt that spark I was longing for, something new to try in my life- a new thing to live for! I held onto this for as long as I could.
When I returned home that evening, I asked my father if I could have money to purchase ice skates. He declined my request and told me "I could do you something better." I thought it was strange and had not a clue of what was up that sleeve of his. I found him leading me to the basement of the house. Our basement was big and well lit. It was very spacious and wasn't crammed with neither boxes nor furniture. A wide mirror was mounted onto an entire wall. And on the opposite wall, a long wooden bar was mounted.
My father removed his large trench coat and hung it on the railing of the stair case. He then revealed to me that he would teach me ballet. I told him I wasn't interested and that it was for girls. He started doing stretches and he explained to me that it was a sport and anyone could do it. It hadn't convinced me in the slightest so he added that learning ballet would make me a better ice skater. That was when he sold the idea to me. Everyday in the week, he began to train me in secret. He told me he only had the patience to teach just me. I could understand why he wouldn't want to inform my other siblings about this. He would say that they weren't mature enough or that they had not earned the lesson- I felt he could've made an exception for Belarus though. Throughout my practices, she would question what I would do with our father downstairs. I couldn't tell her and disobey my father, the secret started to make her distrustful of me. She slowly kept getting more and more distant from me. But I know one day she will understand.
It was only a matter of time before I was a graceful motherfucker. It took years but my father had taught me all that he knew and helped me to perfect it. Ballet was great exercise; it had strengthened my muscles, I was extremely flexible, I had great posture, balance, and coordination. He told me that when I have children, he wanted me to pass down all this knowledge to them. My father eventually stopped doing ballet classes with me but he encouraged me to continue it on my own. And I did. Although, on the last day he did it with me, he gifted me a present to show how proud he was of me. It was the ice skates I had asked for years ago. I had completely forgotten about it. I was over joyed and thanked him. Sadly, we too grew distant once our sessions together came to an end. That was the last time I was close to my father. To me, I feel like my father died on this day.
I had to wait a few months for the lake to freeze over once again to use my new ice skates. In the meantime, I continued my studies and practicing my ballet. Within this time period, something happened to my father. I wasn't sure what because he was super reclusive. He started drinking a lot until he could be considered an alcoholic. I've notice a great change in his behavior since then. He stopped cooking us food and we soon became starving children. My sisters were forced to step up and learn how to cook for us. I didn't have time to cook for everyone but I offered to go grocery shopping once a week to help out. For some reason, they never agreed to let me do this. My father stayed confined to his office so I tried to become the acting father. My siblings still hated me and would ignore me, but I know they needed me to put a signature on their report cards and drive them places. They still did most of the chores; all I had to do was sign their things for school, aid them when they were sick, and drive them places. Well, I tried to anyways... they would never accept my help even when I knew they were needing of it. I wish they didn't hate me so much, the ghosting was painful.
My father had then stopped his excessive drinking for reasons I don't know. He still drank but it was definitely less. He finally was starting to be seen throughout the house. However, his now reoccurring appearances didn't dare help when it came to running the household. Oddly, my father began to take my achievements and success for granted. It was like he was no longer proud of me. He got so accustomed to me being the best he didn't care for it anymore. And I get that he was going through something yet, it still made me feel a certain way. I've noticed with my father's sudden appearances, he seemed more aggressive. He became violent and started beating us if we angered him. My siblings and I would be covered in bruises. He beat us up so many times, I have all the memories engraved into one in my head- I couldn't piece together a single story if I tried. When he would beat me, it was only when I was in my room and usually at night. He seemed so lost whenever he would wonder into my room, I knew it was the alcohol. I wouldn't fight back, I wouldn't dare- I endured every beating. I didn't find a point in fighting back, I knew that if I did something about it, everything would get worse. You could say that it was me being afraid but I wasn't; it was merely because I didn't care enough. It was easier to take the hits.
Soon I grew immune to his punches; they started to hurt less. Maybe it was because my father was getting weaker or I was getting stronger. I wouldn't know. He still actually abuses us from time to time. I just tend to witness it less now because I always know the right time to leave the house.
But throughout that time interval of my father's odd behavior, I was bored and lonely. My life had a peak once; now it remains in complete dull ruins.
I was miserable with not a single day of glory until the winter returned. I waited for that lake to freeze over. When it did, I finally could ice skate, I've longed for this moment. I hoped it would be as great as I deemed it to be. I immediately went to the frozen lake after school and I skated with my new skates. I struggled for a first few minutes but soon, I was a natural at it. Most of my memories of skating as a child resurfaced and plus I have the advantages of ballet. It was as great as I had imagined it. For once, the void that internalized within me finally felt filled.
The ice wasn't as stable as I deemed it to be. I heard cracks as I danced around the ice. It began to split- I've never skated so fast before. Leaping in the air to not step on a crack and drown. The cracks spread like a virus and chunks of ice floated in the water. My skills made me successfully make it to land. I lay in the grass catching my breath and I remember laughing. Such a rush of adrenaline felt amazing. I have never felt so alive. I couldn't believe that I craved such danger. I ignored it because it was stupid and I do not want to get myself killed-"
"It isn't stupid." America interrupted abruptly. I had completely forgotten that I had an audience. I felt ashamed of oversharing that much- I never talked that much before to anyone in my entire life. He allowed me to talk for that long only to cut me off now? It couldn't have been that significant to him; was it? "How so?" I ask him.
The American speaks. "Your story is eventful and beautiful, you convey it in such a way I can completely understand your feelings. We are not so different from each other. You were filled with too much success and prosperity at a young age- it nearly overwhelmed you. What is one to do when they are completely fulfilled? They either live in content or they search for more. You need things bigger than yourself, you'll never be satisfied. Everything that you do has become the bare minimum for yourself and it is to be expected. How is something like that supposed to bring you gratification? I too, was in your situation. I desired a solution to my numb life. After a long pursuit of research, I had finally discovered my answer; that crave for danger that you call stupid, is the solution."
I stare at him and process every word. "How can you be certain?" I press. He stares at me with amusement. "That rush of adrenaline you felt from a near death experience was amazing wasn't it? What if I told you that if you felt that on a daily basis, it would cure your unwanted emotions..." I look at him intrigued. "And it actually works?" I questioned.
"Indeed; I started doing it two weeks ago. I assure you it does, otherwise I wouldn't have decided to live another day. But I'd be lying if I didn't tell you that this method could be improved, it would be more enjoyable with a companion. If you got guts, you should try it with me."
I think momentarily. "Was that the reason why you were laying lifelessly in the middle of the parking lot?"
"Yes." he answers, "However, that isn't nearly as dangerous of the things I plan to do. You must understand I was limited."
This entire concept seemed new to me, I was disturbed, yet, fascinated by it all. I wanted to try it, I haven't felt life in me since the ice skating incident- and that was five months ago. America recognizes that I sit in silence. He speaks up once again. "So, what do you say?"
I was all in. I slammed onto the breaks making us both jerk forward. Shortly after, a shatter can be heard in the trunk. I looked over to America. "We start this weekend." I tell him.
He smirks at me, satisfied at my response. "Good answer. I will soon explain everything to you then." I nod.
The vehicle was then filled with silence. I decided to break the ice, this time, figuratively and not literally. "America, I have expressed to you my past and feelings, I feel it is only fair if you do the same." He looks at me with complete surprise. "Seriously? Are you sure you want to hear my nonsense?"
"Yes." I reply, "I'm curious. You say that we are similar, prove it to me."
"Okay..." he inhales and exhales before he begins his long tangent.
"High expectations were pressed onto me since I was an innocent child. Both of my parents were respected and well known people in the community. They would tell me that every action I did, reflected their parenthood. However, I have always wanted to do my own thing. They feared that my disobedience would ruin their image. They refused to send me to school with all the other normal boys and girls. I was homeschooled. As you could imagine, my live became very boring. I begged them to let me live a normal life. My father quickly refused but my mother felt pity in her heart and said that if I could learn to behave better, they might consider it.
It was my only hope at the time to ensure I could have a better life. I gave in. Within the next few months, I was on my best behavior and I proved to them that I was more than capable to succeed in my education. After awhile, I realized I didn't have to try as hard when learning. I was blessed to have it come naturally to me. They were most certainly impressed. My father then strived to teach me how to play the piano. I payed close attention to learn it because I believed that if I succeeded in this, I could finally go to school and make friends.
The loneliness was a pure pain. I had no one to speak to but my parents, I obviously couldn't share all my thoughts and my feelings with them. I had to show them that I was completely flawless; and my true self definitely was far from perfect. Even if I did feel comfortable enough to talk with them, they would never give me the time of day to listen. I resorted to writing all my thoughts in a journal so I wouldn't lose my sanity.
Eventually, my three younger brothers came into the picture. It was an interesting time because I couldn't wait for them to grow old so I could play with them. The idea made me excited. I helped my mother and father when it came to raising them. I soon finished my elementary years and now they were old enough to communicate with- well they were toddlers so I was limited. But I enjoyed their company and we got along well. Canada was the closest to my age and the twins Australia and New Zealand were not too far behind. With them being around, it made me accept being homeschooled and I no longer had a desire to attend a school.
Of course, nothing lasts forever. I'll never forget the day my father shattered my heart. He decided to send my three younger brothers away to school. I thought I would be included in it but I wasn't. I argued and told him that I was smart and could play piano very well when my younger siblings could not. He told me that my younger siblings have been well behaved children since birth and that they didn't worry him in the slightest. My mother told him doing this to me was unfair and would argue with him about it everyday. He would not budge. When our last argument on the issue had ended, I dumped all of my father's beloved tea bags into the toilet and left it there. The bathroom had never smelt better.
I have never felt so much rage in my heart. The tea dumping did not satisfy my hatred. He was never going to let me attend school. I had nothing, I was lonely and had nothing to look forward to in my life. That night when the clock struck midnight, I snuck out of my room to the living room where the piano sat. Out of my pocket, I removed a box of matches, I take one out and swipe it on the cover. A small flame emerges on the piano. I sit down, adjust myself, and I play the most aggressive piece I know. The more I play, the more it catches fire. Soon, the smoke alarm goes off. It awakens my entire household and my parents come rushing downstairs.
They gasp in horror at the scene I have created in front of them. I continue to play, ignoring them, and I feel a smile crawl on my face. My father scrambles to the fire extinguisher and my mother tries pulling me off the seat. I play as the keys start to sound more and more disoriented.
My father puts out the fire and yanks me out of the seat. I am scolded by both of my parents but I don't remember every single thing they said. I think my mother said something along the lines of wishing to cut my head clean off my neck and my father had stated he wanted to lynch me. Despite their awful desires, I was too distracted at what I had done. It felt eye opening- a true wonderful feeling. I find myself smiling in the presence of their muffled yells. My father then slaps me to where my eyes tear. It brings me back to reality. They yell some more before dragging me into a closet. They lock me in there. It is dark and I bang on the door for them to let me out. However, I soon stop because I knew I was well deserving of it. I remember leaning against the closet door and then hearing my father complaining some more. He had discovered his expensive tea in the toilet, I forgot that I had did that. I couldn't control the laugh that escaped from my lips.
The next day my parents took me to the doctor. I didn't know what kind of doctor it was at the time but looking back at it, they tried to stick me into an asylum. I had explained to the doctor of everything that had happened. After a 30 minute session, the doctor revealed the results to my parents. I was claimed to not be insane thankfully. The doctor had charged them a large fee only to tell them to enroll me into public school.
Soon before I knew it, I was going to school. I was beyond happy. I had made plenty of friends and I ensured to stay clear of trouble and do very well in my studies. I wanted to show my parents they truly had nothing to worry about. I didn't exactly realize of how advanced I was compared to everyone else. School just came easy to me. One day my parents got a phone call from the school. They were fearful I had done something again, but they were wrong. They were told that I had to be put in harder courses. This made them overjoyed.
I thought that this is what I really wanted but it took a turn for the worse. My parents then feared that I would somehow get kicked out from the classes. I was baffled- I had just proved to them that I was more than capable and yet, they still doubted me. It hurt a lot. My other siblings started doing really well in their studies as well. I have not a memory of them being doubted by my parents. I used to have a good relationship with my siblings when I was younger but my parents kept me away from them as best as they could. They didn't want me to influence them to do bad things. My parents had brainwashed them into avoiding me. We still cared about each other, however, we were not close and barely spoke to one another.
Because I was put into new classes, I was separated from my friends. I had to make new ones; the new ones were okay but... they were very competitive. Untrustworthy pieces of shits- I had to adapt in order to survive. I befriended many, however, I promised to never let my guard down around them. So I crafted a few false personalities to help me. Everyone thought I was a comedian and liked being around me. Because of my funny nature, they didn't see me as a threat and got less competitive with me. I knew all these friendships were temporary- yet, it was better than what I had while being homeschooled. Overall, I made the best of it and had a good time.
My school allowed their students to play instruments, of course, I played the piano. I was the only one that did; my school didn't offer a course in piano and only had one piano for the music instructor. We would share that one. Everyone else was in band or orchestra. I remember kids would ask me to teach them but I declined. Only I was allowed to be special, I loved the spotlight and attention. And no one of my knowledge took that personal.
There were many times I would be a soloist and would play pieces for school concerts. Especially when I was in middle school. The girls would swoon over the funny smart hot boy who could work a piano. Sadly, I could never return their feelings because I was not vulnerable to love. I just couldn't find anyone attractive- their personalities were basic. Only someone worthy was deserving of me; and I deserved so much better. Plus I knew that they only liked me for my looks and knew not a single thing about me.
I would sometimes sing while playing the piano too; I thought I had a pretty decent voice. My school wanted me in chorus but I thought of that to be a little extra and declined. It was all fun until I started to grow restless and bored of it all. I wouldn't give it up, it was just I needed a new flavor in my life.
In high school, I wanted to sign up for sports. So I joined my school's baseball team, I used to play all the time in my backyard. I remember my father would grow annoyed pitching the ball to me. When I had told my parents I was trying out for the team, they were upset. They believed it would distract me from my studies.
Their restrictions were irritating me, I knew it was mainly my father. He told me not to try out for that team, I disobeyed and did it anyways. I had made the team and was more than happy. I had no choice but to reveal it to my parents. My father was beyond shocked that I even made the team, I felt offended by that but he soon confessed to me that he had bribed my coach to not let me on that team.
I was extremely upset to learn this. I hated having such an unsupportive family. I remember yelling at him of how unfair it was. Canada was smart like me and he was allowed to be apart of many clubs and play hockey. Why couldn't I? My father explained to me that I had always had "behavioral problems".
I remember yelling some more that I haven't been a problem in years since the flaming piano incident. I guess that memory would forever stain their brains. I wanted to regret it, however, if I had never did it I wouldn't have been enrolled in school.
After my yelling outburst and what felt like hours worth of arguing, my father threatened to remove me from school and to homeschool me again if I didn't quit the team. After that, he dismissed me and I ran to my room.
I had come to the realization that I had no choice but to quit the team- sike! I went to my room and I packed all my shit. I didn't like it here so I would run away.
Well I wasn't really running away, I wasn't an idiot. I would never be financially stable if I did that. My parents never even let me work a job before. Luckily, I was cunning and deceitful. I decided to fool them into thinking I ran away, I would hide in the attic for the week and leave them a letter.
That night I had constructed the most moving letter. I write it in my best script and I left it on the kitchen counter. I had stated everything I wanted improved in my life; such as more freedoms and to be treated fairly amongst my siblings. After I placed the letter, I raided my kitchen of food. I put the food in a plastic bag and I went to my room to get the rest of my belongings. I made sure to use a VPN to put me in a random location.
I quietly made my way to the attic and I hide inside. I remember it being dark and cold, other than that, it was pretty cool up there. I had my sleeping bag, food, and an outlet to charge my phone. What more could I want? The next day I heard my parents panicked to the max. They first tried to call me but I decline all 56 of their calls. Then when I heard them call the police, I knew I took it too far. Now I was slightly afraid to leave. I then reminded myself of the way they treated me and the reason of why I was there in the first place. They had this coming. I then decided to text my parents; I told them I would only return home if they had promised to fulfill my simple requests. They had no choice but to give in.
So I immediately climbed out of the attic with my things feeling satisfied. They felt stupid when they realized I have been there the entire time. Although they didn't yell at me; instead they hugged me- it took me by surprise. I felt nothing from their affections. My parents were dead to me. I had build such an underlining hatred for them. I no longer had a tolerance for them. Seeing them worried made me feel good inside. The thought of me running away and never returning scared them and I liked that.
Well maybe they should start panicking because the boy they grew never did return. Something else came out of the attic that day; they were never going to see their America again. Although, they had it coming. Later when authorities showed up, I remember being questioned by them about the whole incident. Nothing serious happened.
After all that, I finally got my freedom and the life I deserved. It was all perfect or so I thought; it felt completely empty... I wish it weren't this way. I have fought for this happy ending my entire life but it wasn't enough. Something had to be wrong with me. How can one live for nothing? Feel numb all of the time? Not a single thing to look forward to? It kept me up at night. I couldn't stand the feeling of emptiness. I began to dedicate my days to researching; I couldn't find the answers I was looking for. My days kept growing more and more miserable- the void within me thickened.
Deprived of all hope...I...I attempted suicide. Obviously, it wasn't successful- surprisingly, it was a blessing.
I had opened my bedroom window on the third floor and I plunged out. While falling in the air, I felt fear and yet, amusement. I don't know how to describe it but I finally felt something anew! I held onto this feeling. I wanted to feel it again. I remember aiming for the large bushes when I fell. It broke my fall and I landed on top of my parents car in the end. It had set the car alarm off so I quickly climbed back up to my window to avoid being caught. I was injured- nothing major, I had to pursue my researching about the adrenaline I felt. That night, I got no sleep. I still remember the sounds of the computer mouse clicking. I had discovered a few answers and I had to experiment. The next day would mark the start of me doing dangerous things to test the feeling.
One of these tests was, I had blindfolded myself and waited at the sidewalk for the light to turn green. When I heard vehicles approached, I crossed the street. The vehicles slammed on their brakes and cursed me out. However, I paid no mind to it. I was too busy enjoying the thrill. It was all I wanted. I needed to hold onto these feelings. I had made it across the street unharmed. And so, for the past two weeks I have been doing dangerous stunts. It's so nice to feel again. I won't lie, it gets repetitive when you're the only player. I still enjoy it, call me insane for being so desperate for doing something I love..."
"You're insane." I say.