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Being myself, I sat on my a** all day watching Law & Order SVU.
God, Detective Bensen (Mariska) is so hott!

My dad decided he would make dinner for this "holiday."
Making dinner is a rare occasion from my father.
His meals are always satisfying!

Once I finally got myself up off the couch from my Law & Order marathon, I went to take a shower.
There must have been 10 minutes left 'till dinner was about ready.

A' 'course I knew I wouldn't be ready in time for dinner, but I did not want to bless every1 with my unshowered body.

By the time I finished my shower I realized I was 5-10 minutes late for the last meal of the day.

Quickly changing, I hoped no1 was angry with me.

I heard my father's voice call, informing me that he waited to serve dinner.

Fully clothed, and walking through the hallway, I stopped when I heard my mother's shrewd voice. She complained about my music, and slammed the door. I did not know my iPod was playing so loud. If she had maybe told me instead of disrespecting me like that, I would have obeyed, shutting the "garbage" off.

She should know by now:
1. Do NOT insult my music
2. NEVER disrespect me. We are all equal, right?
and 3. My friends are beginning to figure out.

Turning around, I ran inside my room, and darted under my bed, where I felt safe.
The issue was, under my bed is where everything 1st started.
The abuse; my 1st memory.

I thought it had all disappeared, but without my knowledge, both problems returned, as if never missing.

I could see my memory clearly.
My dad returned home from work, complaining about who-know-what that
happened through the course of his day.

I sit, watching him.
He becomes frustrated for some unknown reason, taking it out on me.

He was probably upset for thinking I was not listening to him speak.
My dad grabbed my hair. I cried out.
Somehow I managed to break away, sprinting through the hallway with Man behind me.

I scooted to the corner of the darkness, cowering in fear under the unknown safety of my sleeping place.
No remembrance if closing the door behind me gave more time to hide, but it did not matter.
My father entered the room, I hid, whimpering.

He could detect my whereabouts from my noises and all that was seen was an arm reaching for me.

I could not move myself any further back because my body was now against the wall.

He grabbed my leg as I fought.

Maybe he gave up, or I put up a good fight, but he let go and disappeared.

I was only 4.

My door was thrown open with a giant echo of it hitting the wall.
My ma's feet were visible from under my hideout.

She started lecturing, but I refused to speak, fore every time I do, a fight breaks out.

I lay still, shook with fear as her lecture evolved into accusations and questioning that did not even involve this subject.
No matter what I do this wicked woman angers. If I speak, or if I do not.

She slammed my door, like she had done earlier with the kitchen doorway and was not seen for a good 10 to 20 minutes.

When she returned I made a crude joke, "Had time to think about what else to whine about?"

Of course that comment messed her up even more. She practically blew up!
What was i supposed to do, pick up the pieces?
I lay and ignored every word leaving her mouth until she left.

I do believe she came back another time, when my dad was threatening me AND insulting me.

To block out the shouting, my iPod speakers were blasting into my ears.

I was afraid my memory would repeat itself.

The whole time he went on, I held my knife to my heart.
I wished to pierce through it right then and there.

Once they left, I still did not feel safe.
Only sounds heard were my music and my heavy breathing.
Fear could make me upset enough to go through another asthma attack.

I crawled out from under my bed. I pulled out my knife, lifted up my pants leg and started slashing at my leg.
I could not get myself to stop!
I felt nothing but anger and hatred as I rambled to myself how unwanted I am.
Cut after cut after cut.
I knew I should cease the mistake, but I could not.

All-of-a-sudden my music seemed to be canceled out with another noise.
Screeching.

I looked up from my raw red leg.

The screeching rang through the entire house, and in my ears.

It took me a few seconds to identify that this screeching was my mother.
She just stood infront of my closed door creating this obnoxious sound.

Sadly, this catastrophe took place all because I refused to eat dinner.
She's mad at me for not eating dinner!
It'd prolly do me some good anyway!

Nothing like this can be compared to what she did to me as a mere, defenseless child.

No1 will know the pain my mother has caused; what she had done.
I was only a child, obeying for the sake of gaining respect.
The instructions she gave me, if I followed correctly, caused her to be kind, like never before.
Not knowing my actions satisfied her, I would continue doing as she commanded.
Simply telling mother I was stricken cold would give her some uncomfortable impulse to "help" me out of my day clothes.
Thrown into bed, she began to stroke my infant body.
Hoplessly still, letting her do whatever she wanted.
I am always the victim, but no1 ever believes the kid.
I did not know I was pleasing her, when I was so frightened.

My ma stopped molesting me once I became ugly.
Thank goodness for that!
But maybe that's the reason why she does not respect me anymore.
I am too hideous for her to inappropriately touch.

That night I went to bed early, wishing and dreaming of death.

I am so afraid to kill myself because I do not know what lies ahead.

I want to leave this cruel, cruel world more than anything else.
Fear of what goes on afterward is a mystery.
A mystery I am frightened of.

Sadly, what also keeps me living is that most people hate my existence.
And that I must preach for all of my people.

But I've already wrote a note about giving up.
I may preach no longer of homosexuals with human rights.