Life of Misery: story of my trapped soul

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
short story of my life.

Submitted: June 05, 2016

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Submitted: June 05, 2016

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Can you imagine living in a household where you always feel trapped like you are in a prison? Can you imagine being 20 years old, growing up socially awkward because you weren’t around people much except for being at school and now you don’t have a social life? I must admit this is the worst feeling in the world. Being trapped. Never being able to leave a place where you hate to be. It’s like being forced to hell and not being able to ever leave because there is that one thing over your head controlling your every move and you have no idea how to stop it.

Growing up, from a child to an adolescent to a young adult is the most crucial years of your life. People don’t realize it but these years are what make you who you are in the long run. Personally, I am a very weird person and it’s truly not my fault. I have been trapped in this “prison” all my life. My mother being that thing hovering over my head controlling my every move. I have had the craziest upbringing and here I am twenty years old and sitting in my room writing this story about my sad life. A few minutes ago I asked to hang out with my older brother whom I didn’t grow up with because although we had the same dad, we didn’t have the same mother so we grew up in different households. You would think, that at age 20, I would be able to spend some time with my big brother whom I want to build a relationship with because I don’t have many people in my life as it is. I don’t think it is a crime to want to have a relationship with family or friends so I can have people to talk to, hang out with, and have people in my life as I grow and get out into the real world. But no, my mother looked at me like I asked to have sex on her couch in her living room when I asked her this. It amazes me how I have put up with this for years. Losing contact with cousins I loved to hang out with, ending friendships because I could never socialize with them outside of school so we grew apart. I’m sure my mother doesn’t realize it at all but this has brought on a big problem in my life. I have become very socially awkward and have even recently noticed that I have social anxiety when I’m around a lot of people. Something as simple as going to Walmart makes me really nervous. Obviously since I have dealt with it for years, I am very good at playing it off and acting like going into public places doesn’t phase me because I know if I tried to explain my anxiety to people that would look at me like I’m really crazy. I have lost so many friendships with individuals I absolutely loved and would probably still be really close with if I grew up differently. Now here I am, 20 years old with only about three good friends who I barely ever see and when I do get out the house to see them it’s because I pretty much have begged my mother to let me go somewhere with them. I am at a point where I have given up completely. I decided to not even ask to do anything anymore. I am content with sitting in the house now since that’s all I really do and now I just pray that I would wake up the next morning and things would be different. I swear that if it wasn’t for me going off to college, I would have been such a closed minded, shy, timid, boring no-personality individual. I have experienced a lot simply because I was able to go off to college and it was the best time of my life. I did three years and I recently got kicked out because of my grades. I was drinking alcohol and smoking weed a lot because of the stress that had grew on me knowing that I had to come home to deal with my mother and being trapped in the house again. I do truly regret not being focused and taking care of business because now I am here for lord knows how long dealing with this madness. When I tell people the things I encounter here at home, their faces become very puzzled. The response I get the most is “How old are you?” and I simply reply with my head down, “twenty”. It amazes my few friends and family members that my mother is that strict and overprotective. When I was 10, yes. When I was 13, yes. When I was 16, yes it is necessary for me to have plenty of rules and a curfew. But when I’m 20, it’s crazy. I am convinced that at least 12 years out of my 20 years I have been on this earth I have been depressed. Now, here in this moment, it is worse than ever. I sit in the house and watch TV mostly or clean what she say clean, or just scroll through social media all day. Watching snapchats of people out living their lives makes my depression worse actually because it reminds me of all the things I have been missing out on and still am. I am learning how to deal with it however. I try to remain positive as much as I can and just take it day by day. Being able to work has been very helpful simply because that’s the only way I can really get out the house and just not be around any negativity for a couple hours every day. It has become something I look forward to. Just to be able to get some fresh air and be able to work on my social skills with my coworkers and customers. I try very hard not to seem weird around my coworkers and I think they like me so far. It’s only been four weeks but they don’t seem to be annoyed with me so I guess I’m not as awkward as I feel I am. All my friends are growing up. I’m proud of them. They have their own cars, some have their own place. They are working and going to school. I envy them. They live their lives to the fullest as much as they can. Something I wished I could always do. Even if it was something as simple as hanging with my friends and going to the movies. If it made me happy and I was living my life and enjoying it, I was free. But instead I’m locked up and I’m no longer living my own life. I don’t know whose life I’m living. I’m living someone else’s life. Someone whom I don’t know but it is controlled by my mother. Everything. I am no longer an individual. I don’t even make decisions for myself because it is done for me. I don’t even think anymore because I don’t even have to use my brain because my mother thinks for me. I don’t even have feeling and emotions anymore because it even seems like my mother carries my emotions on her shoulders. I am not me. I am someone else, someone who I don’t know. It is hard living like this I must admit. At first I thought I would just try to cope with it but now I am too depressed and don’t even want to be on earth anymore. The only reason I have made it this long is because of my little brother, whom I pray does not have to grow up like I did. Getting beat for senseless things, being scared of your own parents, not being able to be normal, and hang around friends or family and being controlled like me. I want him to have his own life and live it for him. Although I wish to see him grow old and live his life, I don’t know that I’ll make it. Lately I have been feeling myself sinking faster and faster into this hole (my bed) in my prison dorm (my room). I have cried and have been angry all of my life. I cannot see myself dealing with this forever. I don’t see the point of continuing my life just to sit in the house everyday all day and be yelled at for stupid things and dream every night about the life I wish I had. It’s tiring. Although I love my brother to death and I would hate to leave him, I think it might be best for me. Maybe just maybe I could live my own life for me in heaven. Maybe there won’t be someone controlling me and I’ll finally be free. Free to be me. Free to speak and say what I feel. Free to express how I feel at every given moment. Free to love who I want to love. Free to spend my precious time with whom I would like to. Free to do whatever I want. Just maybe my trapped soul could finally just be. Just be free!

 


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