To Feel, We Suffer.

This is kind of an expansion of a thought i touched on in the previous blog.
"To love, we must first feel pain." or something along the lines of that.
It is because we understand what it feels like to be hurt, that we have the ability to be kind. Our hearts carry compassion within and when faced with someone that we care about or love, we try our best to shield them from pain. We feel an automatic desire to be kind to them and see them smile.
It makes me wonder about the murderers and criminals in this world.
What were their motives? were they fueled by hatred? perhaps revenge? Or were they just pitiful beings who had never felt love?
It is scary to think that a person who has never felt love has the potential to grow into a being who hurts other people.
But then again, it all depends on the individual does it not?
When i was little, i hated my parents. It was a kind of love-hate feeling. They were my parents, so i felt a natural bond with them. Call it 'love' or whatever, but it was a bond. Yet at the same time, i despised them more than anyone in my life. I hated them for making my life so miserable, but that's not to say that they didn't do their best to make me happy.
I didn't need all that attention. I didn't need all those toys or clothes or accessories. If they had just settled their differences i would've been content.
My parents did not speak to each other for the first 12 (or was it thirteen?) years of my life. At least not until my mom got diagnosed with cancer and had to go to the hospital.
My mom was the most hateful. She absolutely loathed my dad and everything to do with them. She always yelled at me whenever i visited my grandparents. At the time, i thought she was just using me as a tool to get back at my grandparents. She claimed that they had made her life miserable at the beginning of her marriage and that my grandmother gossiped about her and stuff like that. Eventually, hatred brew and that hatred spread out to encompass the rest of my dad's family. When i was little, i thought that my mom was making up lies. She had a bad habit of blowing up small things into much larger problems and 'editing' it so that it made her look like the victim (a habit that i, unfortunately, have picked up). But now, when i think about it, i think my mom was just scared. Scared that i would be hurt the same way that she was and so she tried to warn me against it. Even though this might be true, it does not make it right. Simply because she was hurt, does not mean that i will be. My grandparents had never done anything to hurt me and i could never believe that they would ever do anything to harm me. So you could probably guess why i got angry at my mom so often.
I was naive back then. I kept thinking: why can't we all get along? what's wrong with being together?
Like i've mentioned previously: i despise humanity and it's weaknesses.
We do not forgive. Although we say we do, we let go of the past, but retain that small memory of anger that prevents us from fully forgiving.
My mom never forgave my dad's side of the family. To this day, she still hates them, however that hate has dulled over the past few years.
When my mom was in the hospital, my dad visited her every single day. He stayed faithfully by her side every hour except for when he had to come home and take care of us (cook us dinner, pick us up etc.).
Perhaps this was the pivotal point in our lives.
Because after my mom recovered, my parents began to speak again.
Until this day, i did not realize just how eerily quiet our house was during my childhood years.
No one talked. Ever.
The air was always tense and hostile.
The reason i hated my mom wasn't because she banned me from seeing my dad's family (which didn't really matter, because i saw them anyways), but because she went about the wrong way conveying it.
She yelled at me for it. She yelled at me for wanting to see my own flesh and blood. She told me that they were horrible people and that they would hurt me.
I hated her for saying these things when they were always so kind to me.
My dad did not know that my mom had banned us from seeing his family because we always went with him regardless. We (me and my brother) never let him know that we got yelled at for it afterwards because we felt that it was our burden to bear.
When he found out one day, he was shocked.
I don't remember what happened afterwards, partially because i don't want to remember, and partially because my mind has blocked off that memory in an act of self defense.
It was strange. I remember feeling confused and hurt because my mom hated my dad so much, yet my dad didn't hate her.
I couldn't understand how he didn't hate her. She blamed him for everything that went wrong in life... and yet he bore no ill feelings towards her.
It made me angry.
I think... if he had hated her, i wouldn't have been angry. I would've hurt more, but i wouldn't have been angry.
By seeing my parents, i swore to myself that i would never be like them. I still have the diary entries to prove it.
By growing up in this house, i was forced to mature faster than other children.
In a sense, it kind of feels like i lost my childhood.
How many children can you name bear the burden of being the vent for both their parents especially if their yelling and screaming was directed at the other parent?
I had to lie day in, and day out.
When with my mom, i agreed with what she said and put up a front like i hated my dad, because otherwise she would start yelling again.
When with my dad, i swallowed my pain and put on a smile to visit his relatives.
A double life is taxing on a child.
I think, it is because of the pain i felt as a child, that i am the person i am today.
I cannot stand seeing a friend in pain. I feel the strong desire to comfort them, or hold them and take on their burden as my own.
I cannot help it, it is an instinct.
I've felt so much pain in my life, and i would give my own life to ensure that none of my friends ever feel the same things i've felt.
It's painful you know.
Living is so painful.
There is no one in this world who truly understands me. There is no one that i can completely and fully trust enough to just unleash all my pent up anger, hurt, and frustration.
I just want somebody to hold me and - for a change - take my burden and bear it upon their shoulders.
My world consists of all my friends. My friends are family.
The weight of the world is a heavy burden to bear.
Maybe this is why i crave solitude so much.
Because in solitude, there are no people.
No pain, no sadness, no nothing.
An empty world... My ultimate paradise.


Humanity is the weapon of ultimate destruction. The embodiment of the seven deadly sins. It is because of these sins that we gain compassion.

Hate & Love.
One cannot exist without the other.
Forever to exist in our world.

May God Help Us All.