Illegal Memories (StoryADay post)

Depression. (Photo credit: Mary Lock- Goldilock Photography)

So here we are once again, just you and me. There’s no one else but us, and I hope that this time you hear what I have to say.

You are making me sick. I mean really sick. Like so sick that now I have to see a doctor just to determine why I am sick.

But that’s not all it is, or is it?

The reason that I’m sick is because of you.


You’re the culprit in this situation.

Wanna know how I found that out?

Well, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that you are the one behind my illness and pain. Heck, even a 7-year-old could figure that out in less than a few seconds.

But why did it take me that long to find out that it was you all along?

Let me tell you the answer to that question.

You have held me back from realizing my potential for many years. You would not allow me to have any friends, unless the friends I had were invisible like you. You wouldn’t let me even be around my family for that matter.

In fact, last night I overheard my parents talking about sending me to a mental hospital because they can’t deal with me anymore.

Isn’t that sad? My own family now hates me and is rejecting me. And it’s all because of you

See what you have done to me?

You have stolen the best years of my life and I can’t recall anyone but you. You’re like freaking everywhere, and I don’t see anyone but you.

I’ve had it with you.

Get out of my head! Get out of my dreams! Get out of my imagination! You’re not welcome here anymore!

Yeah, I said it once, and now I’m going to say it again.

Get away from me and don’t ever come back here!

Yeah, I’m being harsh with you, but it has to be done. I have but two choices to make: you are my life.

And guess which choice I made.

That’s right; I’ve chosen my life. You have no place in my life, not anymore.

Now, do us both a favor and go bother someone else, someone who isn’t me. I mean it.

Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

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Carry On

I truly hate my life.

It’s not like my parents beat me or my teachers and classmates are determined to make my life a living hell, (which 30% actually do), but I just hate my life.

Why am I saying that?

  1. I am afraid of being known as a gay boy. It’s already bad enough that people are being teased for being gay; I’m not about to go down that path.
  2. I don’t want to be different. I want to be like the other boys, the ones who love video games and talking about girls. Not boys like me, who likes girl things. I’m supposed to be a boy. I should act like a boy.
  3. I just want to be a normal boy, not a boy with the nice clothes and the gelled-up hair and nice shoes. My parents would go through the roof if they found out that I was dressing like some sort of wierdo.

So, what am I to do with myself? I won’t cry out for help; it means that I am weak. My parents didn’t raise a weakling. I had to do something now or else I would be at the end of my rope.

I took some scissors and chopped off all my hair until it was in a style that was acceptable to a boy. I then put my “nice clothes” in the closet and took out scores of t-shirts and jeans. I switched from loafers to sneakers. It was time for the boy part of me to come out.


When I went back to school the next day, everyone turned around and saw me. No one could say a word, other than, “Why are you dressed like that? That outfit is lame. That’s not you.” I shook my head and walked on by. I had better things to do than to respond to their criticisms.

But I did receive a message telling me to go meet with the school counselor at lunch. I can’t believe it. To tell you the truth, she did corner me and said that I should not have done what I did, that it was OK to just be myself. I glare at her; since when was it OK to “just be myself”? People who try to be themselves usually end up committing suicide or shoot up the school. I wasn’t about to do either.

I said to her, “I’m losing my identity as a boy. I want to be a regular boy, not some kind of girly-man. I know it’s painful to hear this, but I have to learn about what is and isn’t acceptable and then apply that to my life. Did you know that I was teased and made fun of because I liked girly things for the past few weeks? Did you know that the other boys called me names because of that? I couldn’t even walk the halls, for fear that someone might try to beat me up. That is why I had to change.”

The counselor shook her head and said, “Sometimes, you can’t just force yourself to do what other people do. You are different for a reason. You have to learn to suck up all the cruel words and carry on with your life. Stop trying to change who you are meant to be.”

“But if who you’re meant to be goes against what God wants you to be, then there’s going to be some problems,” I argued back. “Who am I to argue with God over what my life should and shouldn’t be?”

I left the room in disgust, making plans to talk to the pastor after church on Sunday. I knew that, yes, I’ll have to carry on with my life, but I want to live a life that is pleasing to both man and God. I refuse to give into the lies of the secular culture and its false promises of tolerance.

I will carry on. I must keep going.

FAWM song – My Greatest Regret

he shot me and i fell, never to rise again / as i bleed my life out, i wonder how did it all come to this / they made fun of him, but i said not a word / my parents told me not to interfere in anyone else’s business / so i kept my head down and went on my way / but little did i know that at moment of my choice / i had sealed my own fate, so i’m getting what i deserved

they beat him and they bullied him, and no one reached out to help him / he cried for help, but they turned up the volume on their own selfishness / and ignored the rotting smell of abuse; for that, we should all rot in hell

if i know now what i should have known then / maybe i would have help him out / but i did not, and so, this is my fate / if i wasn’t so selfish and wrapped up in my own life / then maybe i’d still be alive today…

One day, that same boy had had enough of the teasing, and it wasn’t going to end / so he showed up at school shooting up the place, causing chaos everywhere / no one knew that this could have been prevented if only they helped that boy / and because they failed to stand up for him, they’re getting what they deserve…

but someone did get shot that day, someone is paying the ultimate price / who paid the price for the deed with their blood / who is the one who is suffering / the answer to that question is (and this is very sad) it was me / me, the girl who ignored him and went about my life / I was just 15 years old, and guess what? I DIED!!

i can’t believe that this is happening to me / i can’t be dead; i’m only 15! / i’ve got a life to live, i want to go on that date tonight, i want to hang out with my friends / but i’m lying cold and dead on the floor with people screaming around me, they don’t even know that i’m dead / and all i worry about is that little boy, who was so cruelly tormented all these years / what would have happened if i just simply helped him out? i’ll never know the answer to that question because i am now dead.

oh God, what have i done to deserve this? why am i the one to die? / all i did was mind my own business; i didn’t do anything wrong, but this isn’t right / my parents are crying, my brother is sad, my friends are asking themselves why did this happen, how could this happen to me / it was because I never thought that this could happen to me / they did not know that it was because i ignored the boy and now i’m paying for it with my own life.

God, i’m sorry, just give me another chance / this time, i’ll get it right / i promise to help those who are downtrodden, even if everyone else doesn’t care / if i see the boy again, i’ll reach out to him / ignoring him isn’t worth my life…

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