Fragments

Fragments

How can we have a future without a connection to our past? This is my story, the things that shaped me into the man I have become.

This story is a mirror: when you look closely you will see your own life reflected in mine.

Prepare yourself…

Ever had a dream so beautiful and perfect? A bad feeling hovering in the background like a specter. Something is out of place…

That was my childhood. To me it seemed perfect, a loving mother and father, and a happy-go-lucky sister. The normal happy family. Somehow it didn’t seem off that I could take apart a man with a knife at the age of four, or that I could fire large caliber handguns that some adults struggle with.

But something haunted me.

With such a perfect life, why was I so unhappy? The joke was on me, because it was my own mind making me blind to the truth. My own mind was shielding me from something I could not yet handle.

In school I was always the one standing out. And the nail that sticks it’s head out gets hammered. I got bullied a lot. Even by a teacher.

The pain was slowly hardening me, winding me up like a spring. In the sixth grade I had enough. I beat up three bullies on my own. Cowards attack in groups. I reciprocated by taking them apart despite their numbers.

At this stage I knew something was off about my family. Yet, I could not see what.

In high school everyone knew me. I did anything and everything to make life hard for my oppressive school. Little did I know that I rebelled because deep down the school reminded me of my parents. Always demanding perfection, but still always being better than me.

I had a hard time trusting anyone, and it made me struggle to make friends. I spiraled down a very dark path of suicidal depression. I was still oblivious of the reason why.

My father went to work in another province, making me the “man of the house” at fifteen. I had to defend my house and family, and be a pillar of support for the entire household. All while battling to keep my depression away.

Then, one night, man tried to mug me.

I never told anyone that I carried a knife that night. The man put a knife to my throat, demanding my cellphone. I didn’t own a cellphone. I knew he was going to kill me. So I drew my knife, and the blade jammed closed. For a moment he was focused on my hand…

I grabbed his wrist and snapped his elbow against my knee, then smashed him in the face with my left elbow. That night I let loose all my rage, and it was so bad that the paramedics first thought the mugger was in a car accident.

What scared me most, was that I liked it.

The only light in my life was a girl I fell in love with when I was eighteen. She knew that I had liked her, but we never started a relationship. That year she emigrated to Dubai.

It all came unglued

I really tried keeping my life together. My mathematics grades were plummeting, and I needed it to study engineering. My father started telling the whole world about it and my mother grew increasingly invasive, all while I clung to the little bit of light trying to survive.

In a severe panic attack in December that year, I died. The pain in my forehead was so severe that I was taken to hospital. The pain was so much that a morphine drip could not help. My heart stopped. After a few seconds, it started back up. In the most surreal moment of my life, I was told by an angel that I have a big purpose to fulfill, and that I had to go back.

I never told my parents, I don’t trust them with it.

I started attacking my problems head on. Studying mentalism and psychology to determine my flaws. Only then my mind showed me the truth.

My father is a narcissistic psychopath, and my mother a control freak who only loved me when I performed well in academics.

I first had to fix my mathematics problem. In only a year and a half, I went from 24% to 62%, getting the mark I need to become an engineer. I sharpened my social skills to the point where I could understand people while they spoke am unknown language, merely by watching their body language.

Several violent attacks came too, met by me with a scalpel-sharp combat knife and a lifetime of rage. All who faced me fell.

I lived in a house, with other people. They weren’t a family to me, because they didn’t act like one. At that stage the girl I fell in love with came back to South Africa. I tried starting something with her, but she was too afraid of loving someone closely.

It set me back. I still feel cheated out of a family. I only have a parrot, Max, to give my love to. She loves me too, and that got me through the hard days.

I soldiered on, studying mechanical engineering, and finding a place to belong.

I eventually joined a group that practices swordsmanship. They are a lot of oddballs, but I fit in with them. After two years I graduated my engineering course, and met someone.

My nightingale. She turned my whole world around, simply because she loved me. Experiencing love for the very first time is indescribable. Now I know why people feel so attached to their parents. If they loved me my whole life would be different. The best part is, I can give her all my love freely.

Sunday night I broke down, telling her this whole story. For the first time in years I wasn’t keeping it all together.

I still live in that house. The crime in our street has worsened, and my “family” is falling apart. Some nights I eat alone at the table with only Max to keep me company. We all do our own thing, and only occasionally we will do something together, almost like a group of friends arranging something. So far I did manage to form a bond with my mother, showing her that there is more to me than a percentage on a report card.

I’m planning to move soon.

And that is a very shortened version of my life story. I am posting this because maybe someone somewhere can learn from this. Maybe it can be the revelation you need to see through a lie in your life.  Also, putting this down black on white helps me to get closure.

I hope that you can learn from my tragedy. All the lessons you learn from this is your own.

Warm regards

Havoc

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