There is no easy way to tell this story i really wish was only fiction. Maybe it's because of my history and relationship with my parents that my fear of death doesn't exist. I am currently sitting in front of a closed California Science Center writing all of this. I don't plan on leaving until Im done and this might take a while. It's currently 6:30 so lets see how this goes. Anyways, on my walk here i constantly pondered the "what if i were to die right now?" question. I wouldn't consider my neighborhood safe as i have been jumped in the past by gang bangers and someone dies every here and there. But if i were to die today i would feel like i have not contributed enough to my believed job (or jorb) of making others smile, laugh and feel better at the end of the day to die happy or at least satisfied. I have two reasons for this, one is because there are people in my life who have been there for me and continue doing it even when they're least aware of it and i will always be there for those that need me. Second, i want to die riding a bicycle after I graduate from college. The day i graduate i want all my friends to be there because they're all the ones who keep me going. I don't care at all if my parents are "proud" of me when I graduate. I've gone through life with very little support from them, so fuck them both.
Now that im done rambling, time to get to the actual story that led myself to not wanting to move.
I come from a family with hidden secrets but also is dominated by fear. My father is gay and married my mother to hide his personal sexuality from his family. I was born as proof that he wasn't gay. My sister, shares the same exact story but sadly is shadowed by doubt she has yet to find out about. Around the same time my mother was impregnated with my sister, my father was diagnosed with HIV. That was back in 99 and 13 years have passed but yet no studies have been done to check whether or not she even she has the virus herself. Every night when i go to bed i fear the worst. She's too young to die, id rather trade my own. Continuing on, my mother is not sure herself whether or not she has the virus. How can you fear death when around you it is an existing possibility? Like i stated earlier, this was in 99, and the current year finds itself to be 2012. My parents got divorced in 2008. Lets place this shit into perspective, for nine years i was part of a "family" that considered it "happy" and "loving." why 9 years you ask? Because the same year my mom got pregnant, she caught my father cheating on her with a another man. They didn't separate so my sister and i could be raised by both parents and both be loved. Didn't they ever suspect that it would have been better to have come clean from the beginning? i consider myself a bastard son who only finds happiness in the friends i have and activities i do. I don't have to talk about the friends part again because this blog has constancy gone over that. Without them i would be nothing. No one to laugh along with and no one to make smile. Activities, they keep my mind off these thoughts. Whenever i ride my bike, there's only one thing on my mind, am i going to get there alive?
During the entire divorce there was only one person who would ask me "how are you feeling / taking all this?" and that was Gio. When i needed my parents the most, they were too busy fighting with each other and trying to make them look bad in front of me and slowly revealing all the secrets and lies that they have shared over the years. Do you think i want to wake up one morning and have my mom confess to me that my father has HIV and could die at almost any time on any day. I was a 17 year old who at a point in time was more preoccupied with trying to graduate school more than pay attention to the divorce that had not only torn our "family" to shreds, but fucking ripped my own insides to shreds. That was the day i finally decided that my parents don't actually love me. All i wanted was some one to be fucking happy and proud of me at the end of the day. That is why i search for acceptance of myself. Before i started college, my father confessed to me that he never actually believed that i was going to even finish high school, let alone graduate. I dont think I've never had a bigger slap to the face than that moment in time. It still haunts my mind everyday. I've always hoped at least my friends are proud of me.
The house. The house i live in has a lot of sentimental value to me because that is where all my struggles have occurred. All the dark moments in which my true colors have shown all rose from there. This year marked my tenth anniversary living there. The place where my mom confessed me my dad's secret, where my dad told me of his own under estimation of me and the place where social services almost took my sister and i away. This is also where i fell in love with Crunchbite and where my direct neighbors ignored me (i didn't fucking need them anyways). this is also the house where i was accused of stealing from one of my neighbors and the place where Gio's and I's friendship really kicked off after he taught me to take the metro one night after school. This is also the house that has seen two robberies and two different families and i have been the only constant. </p>
<p>Friends have come and gone but the two who i have had since I've lived in the neighborhood have always been the same: Ed and Irving. (Chris doesn't count since he lives with Ed.) I've known them both since 6th grade which translates into 8 years in September. I met Ed in the homeroom of 6th grade and Irving lived across the street from him at that point in time. The four of us all continue being extremely good friends. They all bought PS3s and were the only reason I even bought one myself haha. Back to the house and neighborhood, beyond the few block radius lives America and Gio. I don't know where Id be without either. I love these two. I don't want to leave. The proximity of all of us has brought us together as great friends. Moving farther away feels like I'll lose them all. They all make me laugh and smile like not many can. Well this is all for now and I will update it when i get home later. It is currently 8:40 and very windy to say the least.
Now that im done rambling, time to get to the actual story that led myself to not wanting to move.
I come from a family with hidden secrets but also is dominated by fear. My father is gay and married my mother to hide his personal sexuality from his family. I was born as proof that he wasn't gay. My sister, shares the same exact story but sadly is shadowed by doubt she has yet to find out about. Around the same time my mother was impregnated with my sister, my father was diagnosed with HIV. That was back in 99 and 13 years have passed but yet no studies have been done to check whether or not she even she has the virus herself. Every night when i go to bed i fear the worst. She's too young to die, id rather trade my own. Continuing on, my mother is not sure herself whether or not she has the virus. How can you fear death when around you it is an existing possibility? Like i stated earlier, this was in 99, and the current year finds itself to be 2012. My parents got divorced in 2008. Lets place this shit into perspective, for nine years i was part of a "family" that considered it "happy" and "loving." why 9 years you ask? Because the same year my mom got pregnant, she caught my father cheating on her with a another man. They didn't separate so my sister and i could be raised by both parents and both be loved. Didn't they ever suspect that it would have been better to have come clean from the beginning? i consider myself a bastard son who only finds happiness in the friends i have and activities i do. I don't have to talk about the friends part again because this blog has constancy gone over that. Without them i would be nothing. No one to laugh along with and no one to make smile. Activities, they keep my mind off these thoughts. Whenever i ride my bike, there's only one thing on my mind, am i going to get there alive?
During the entire divorce there was only one person who would ask me "how are you feeling / taking all this?" and that was Gio. When i needed my parents the most, they were too busy fighting with each other and trying to make them look bad in front of me and slowly revealing all the secrets and lies that they have shared over the years. Do you think i want to wake up one morning and have my mom confess to me that my father has HIV and could die at almost any time on any day. I was a 17 year old who at a point in time was more preoccupied with trying to graduate school more than pay attention to the divorce that had not only torn our "family" to shreds, but fucking ripped my own insides to shreds. That was the day i finally decided that my parents don't actually love me. All i wanted was some one to be fucking happy and proud of me at the end of the day. That is why i search for acceptance of myself. Before i started college, my father confessed to me that he never actually believed that i was going to even finish high school, let alone graduate. I dont think I've never had a bigger slap to the face than that moment in time. It still haunts my mind everyday. I've always hoped at least my friends are proud of me.
The house. The house i live in has a lot of sentimental value to me because that is where all my struggles have occurred. All the dark moments in which my true colors have shown all rose from there. This year marked my tenth anniversary living there. The place where my mom confessed me my dad's secret, where my dad told me of his own under estimation of me and the place where social services almost took my sister and i away. This is also where i fell in love with Crunchbite and where my direct neighbors ignored me (i didn't fucking need them anyways). this is also the house where i was accused of stealing from one of my neighbors and the place where Gio's and I's friendship really kicked off after he taught me to take the metro one night after school. This is also the house that has seen two robberies and two different families and i have been the only constant. </p>
<p>Friends have come and gone but the two who i have had since I've lived in the neighborhood have always been the same: Ed and Irving. (Chris doesn't count since he lives with Ed.) I've known them both since 6th grade which translates into 8 years in September. I met Ed in the homeroom of 6th grade and Irving lived across the street from him at that point in time. The four of us all continue being extremely good friends. They all bought PS3s and were the only reason I even bought one myself haha. Back to the house and neighborhood, beyond the few block radius lives America and Gio. I don't know where Id be without either. I love these two. I don't want to leave. The proximity of all of us has brought us together as great friends. Moving farther away feels like I'll lose them all. They all make me laugh and smile like not many can. Well this is all for now and I will update it when i get home later. It is currently 8:40 and very windy to say the least.
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