Some times it hurts. Only some times when I let my mind wonder.
It hurts like an old wound that never healed properly and never will and some times when bitterness is all I seem to have I allow my self to be angry. I allow my self to go though the titles they have given me and hate each and every one. The-boy-who-lived is a traitorous title that has given me little comfort.
I am not a boy, boys are not so haunted nor are I a man, men are not so broken.
I have not lived for a long time but existed out of want to survive. Most of the time I can ignore it and push it to the back of my mind but some times it's just too hard. I want to hate them they left me to rot in a cupboard for years and expect me to save them. Savoir another title I can't live up to.
I have hated for a long time and have lived in darkness for even longer and the darkness has taught me many lessons. It has taught me that hate consumes and leaves you empty in the end. It has taught me that vengeance is a cold comfort but a comfort all the some. It also taught me humor such as……..
How they expect me to save them when I can't even save myself.
Some times this makes me laugh, laugh until I cry ,cry until I scream and scream until I want to die. After all that it still hurts.
But only some times.