~*~Blank Points~*~
"All of the riches in the world haven't even the slightest ability to purge the darkness, the torment, of its holder."
- Bethany Jane Bennett, 2007
Entry Zero
I once believed that the magic would be my serenity, ready to pull me out of the pit of misery that haunts the very core of my black and withered heart. Dreams of the day that I would experience the feeling of true happiness, a sensation to bring me to completion. There should not be anything in the multiverse that restricts me from having the opportunity to experience that wonderful emotion. If there be a merciful god, whom I refuse to put my faith into, he would allow the slightest bit of happiness from such a pathetic young man. The dream was simple, really, but the most difficult to realize.
Like all dreams, at some point you need to wake up.
Father once told me that our family would never need to be plagued with sorrow. The vast wealth that my forefathers worked two lifetimes for is, according to father, there to buy my happiness whenever necessary. Mother says that money makes the world go 'round; that every second of wasting time is wasting money.
It took me into my first year as a teenager to realize how greedy and corrupt they both were. They thought that wealth was everything, that it made them tops. It could be used for bragging rights, buying extravagancies, and practically shouting in the faces of the common people that they were worth more than them. That very thinking process that was a running constant in the fine wiring of their minds, naturally, began to rub off on me. If I became a reflection of who they are and what they are, my younger self thought, maybe I could make them, for the slightest moment, spare their time to look my way and tell me what a good son I am.
I believe it took me my third year as a teenager to realize that they would never care about me or anything I did. A prop to them is all I am, and it is all I will ever be in their eyes; something to talk about at dinner parties. Caring about a prop is silly, after all.
My childhood proved unpleasant and empty, prompting me to meet somebody who genuinely cared about me: my godfather. He is egotistical, sure, but everybody falls short of perfection in some respect. I actually got along with him, and the miracle of being almost-happy was most definitely there.
As a child, I suffered from a lot of problems—some I still have today—which I now blame on father and mother. I stumbled into one trouble from another, my godfather supporting me through it all. It wasn't until I was one year away from becoming a teenager that I began to clean my act up. Someday, I may get deeper into this; for now… well I'm just getting started after all.
Today marks my fourth year as a teenager, and my first goal is to continue creating a unique identity for myself. So far, I think I have done a satisfactory job. Surely I have much more to learn—I am often told that I wear jade-colored glasses—but perhaps my misery is a reality that in itself will bring me to serenity in due time.
The first step in getting over your past is to recount it and understand it, or so I have been told. Hey, I'm a teenage boy, so I'm not very big getting in touch with my feelings.
God, I hope I'm doing this right.
~*~To Be Continued~*~
