all i can remember is wanting to fit in, wanting to be like the rest, or be gone. even as a child, i would walk around the playground wondering what it would be like if i died. and i don’t mean in the innocent, curious, childlike thinking kind of way, i genuinely wanted to be dead. i don’t know where these wishes spawned from, but very soon, they took over my personality. perhaps it was overexposure to the internet at a young age, or being abandoned by someone i saw as a mother figure. nonetheless, this desire dwarfed all other aspects of who i was. i was unable to see a future for myself, and thus my mind came up with the only solution it could think of: death. i was miserable. everyday i would come home and wonder “why me?” but no matter how much i suffered, no one seemed to notice my parents were always distant, both physically and emotionally. they never had time for me they never noticed my pains, my sorrows, my joys. in fact, they hardly even noticed me at all. they much preferred their work to their own child, but that all changed when they had my brother. i could always tell they wanted a boy over a girl like me. no matter how many times they tried to tell me they loved us the same, i always knew. i could see the difference in how they treated us. they were never there for me, but it was like the universe stopped, and they suddenly had all the time in the world for him. i admit, watching him grow up with all the care in the world made me angry, bitter, jealous. i shut everyone and everything out. i didn’t want to get attached to someone who could never love me as much as i loved them. i could never be equal to my brother in their eyes. they didn’t have enough room in their hearts for the both of us. i always tried as hard as i could to receive at least a fraction of the care they gave him.
i was always the smarter of us two. i was the kinder, more mature and independent version of him. but no matter how hard i tried, i was never good enough. he could crash and burn, but i needed to be perfect in every way, and perfect i was. however, not even perfection was good enough for them, so as i grew, i began to resent them for this fact, i grew to hate them for taking away my childhood and pushing me past perfection until i was more machine than human. but in order for the child to hate their parents, the parents must hate the child first. i could not take their hate and my own. perhaps this is where my lack of lust for life began i knew my life would never be valued in their mind, no matter how perfect i was, so what was the point? i was so young, but i was already living for others and not for myself. now, answer me this. what’s the point of living a life that isn’t yours anyways? to me, the answer was simple. there was no point. my mind couldn’t comprehend why i was inferior to a child who was less than me on practically every level. thus, i gave up. ever since then, i’ve been living the life they want of me, allowing them to take control of everything. my body is on autopilot, but my mind begs to be free, to be a unique, happy individual. i need to start living for me, but i know as long as i live under their roof, i will never truly be free.
Hayden Ludwig, 13-15, MICDS