Hello world. My (shortened) story.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
I have always found solace in reading. I have traveled through the worlds of writers. I have always wanted to write a book on my own but have always thought that I lack writing skills. Practice makes perfect, so I decided to practice and start writing a short memoir.

Submitted: October 01, 2015

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Submitted: October 01, 2015

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Hello World

 

 

 

 

 

Hello. I would introduce myself but that seems pointless, I also thought it would be a good idea to explain shortly why exactly I'm writing this but I can't think of why. I guess I'm just letting it out this way. This is a long post, I don't know if anyone will read it but it's comforting to write it. Anyway, here we go.

 

I was born 20 years ago, give or take a month or two. The country in which I was born in is a small one in the Balkans. Eastern Europe, the poorest country in Europe at the moment. There is a point to this but I will get to that later. I have seen pictures of me on my first day on this world, I seem pretty happy. A regular infant. Weak and innocent, you can do whatever you decide to me and I probably won't realize what's going on. My body would snap under the lightest pressure, my psyche being even more weak than my physical self. Kurt Cobain once said that he never understood how people can bring life to such a bad world until he had his child, it's apperantly something you won't understand until you have a child of your own. It sounds like one of those jokes that you need explanation in order to get it. Not a good one. My earliest memories are (I think) of my travels to Moldova. My grandfather had work there so he and my grandmother got me to tag along. I think I had a good time. My grandfather is an interesting character, his arms are full of ugly tattoos he has had mostly during his ears in Iraq. I should probably make it clear that he didn't go to war there, he worked there. Construction work. He is a very proud person. Actually so are my grandmother and my mother. My grandfather got paid in dollars during the years my mother was a child and teenager. In a country that is still heavily influenced by socialism having wealth like that must have felt good. She has always had whatever she wants. Every piece of clothing. Whatever she wants to eat. Whenever she wants to go. My mother's sister, close to her age, has been a very out going person. Going to clubs and having fun until the morning regularly. On the other side my mother has been kind of a bookworm. She has been the kind of person that would be the annoying one in class. The stuck up one. The goody two shoes. During the times she has spent outside in venues she hasn't really been with a lot of people. She has some friends, a number you can count on one hand, but that's it. One time like that has been a visit to a club that my father has visited with his friends and gotten pretty drunk. His friends, being also drunk, decided to play a bet for a case on beer on who can get down with a chick from the club. My father scored. Not long after they got married. One year later I was born. The pictures that I was talking about were taken.

 

 

Earliest memories

 

I don't recall much of the first few years so the real story will begin from the place I remember clearly. I was an only child at the time, a weird one too. I never really understood why I never had much friends. I was always trying to be friendly, really. I always felt awkward when with people. My parents even at an early age always fought. My grandfather didn't earn big money anymore so we couldn't afford everything. That was something new. At the time it was pretty crowded at home. It was me, my father, mother, grandmother and grandfather. Even earlier my aunt and uncle and their son lived with us but I don't remember much besides that my uncle abused both my cousin and my aunt a lot. Physically. At that early age it was easy for me to pick a side. My mother, of course. She was the one buying me all the candy in the world, while my father was the one who told me I can't have it. While they fought all I had was video games. Worlds where I had lots of friends. I saved princess Peach and defeated evil Bowser. I was a savior. I wasn't a nobody. In real life I was laughed at, but in these worlds I was praised for my characteristics. My ability to jump at the precise moment. To jump on the Goomba. I would go out sometimes but I always failed at playing with the other kids. I just wasn't very good at sports. We played football but I would always mess things up so no one would want me in the team. I very much prefered saving Peach. While getting lost in the world of video games, my escape, things happened very quickly around me. I would notice them for a while, cry, forget about it and continue playing. Fights were getting worse, my father ran three times. Everytime he came, said goodbye, kissed my cheek and left. He would come back eventually but would he last time? That was always in the back of my mind.

 

Run. Jump. Fireball, fireball.

You can imagine I didn't do all that too well in kindergarden and school right? In kindergarden I was the weird one who tried to make sense of my action figures. The other guys just smashed them together, simulating some sort of a fight. My action figures sat down and talked to each other. Had deep conversations, cried, laughed and most importantly had different relationships between them and different stories. I would have regularly get my ass kicked during these early times. Bloody nose, bloody knee, it was all the same to me. I had no time to think about that. Peach waited for me.

 

Jump. Jump! Fireball!

 

In the third grade I got my first girlfriend. I'll call her D. D was very special. She was not only the most beautiful girl in class, she was the most beautiful of all girls in all third grade classes. She was so very special... she was Peach. No more fireballs. No more Goombas. I just wanted to see her everyday. I was fascinated. Why was she with me? I had no idea. There were all kinds of cool kids in the third grade classes. Football players, breakdancers, everything. She had told me to keep our relationship a secret. I didn't know why, but of course, I said yes. So no one knew I was dating her. Well, I knew. That was enough. It was a daily routine and I loved it. We would secretly meet up before school and walk together, once we got close she told me to stay and wait a bit while she went ahead. I waited a few minutes and went to class. We wouldn't even make eye contact. My notebooks were filled with hearts and other love symbols. After class I would go home and just run to her place to call her out to play. I would buy her candy with my lunch money and we would go on the swings. Act natural if some other kid came along. I think a few months passed and I wanted to share share my happiness. We were at the playground, a couple of kids, and I said to the coolest one that she was my girlfriend. He said he knew. They all knew that she was my „girlfriend“. I was just standing there frozen. She came up to me and told me that we can't really be boyfriend-girlfriend.

I ran. I ran as fast as I can with to knowledge where I was headed. When I got out of breath I sad down on the sidewalk and cried. I looked behind and saw her playing with the other kids on the swings like nothing had happened. I went home.

 

Fireball. Run. Jump. Run.

 

Hitting puberty.

 

I was getting older and could grasp why my parents fought. I didn't want my mother's precious candy anymore. The thing is I didn't care much. I had replaced the Nintendo games with a Playstation. I had a computer. I discovered death metal. My hair was a mess. My clothes were ripped. I had an eating disorder. I quickly grew fat. Really fat. My life did not exist for me, I was a shadow mixed in the shadows of everyone else. Here and there people would step on me but no one would think twice about it. I was just a shadow. Fights were getting worse, my apetite for an escape got even bigger. More games. I despised the world. I hated everyone. I knew people were pointing and laughing. I had images of crushing them with hammers and axes. Everyone but one person. Peach 2.0. I had a reason to live through school. To come home and go on Skype. Peach waited for me. We will call her V. I was 11 maybe 12. She was 16 or 17. Lived pretty far, but she was even better than D. She was so gorgeous. I found her facebook a year ago and still secretly look at her pictures from time to time. I came home and there she was... online. She told me I was good looking. That I was a cool boy. She told me how she would fuck me all night. That I wouldn't have energy to walk. That we would do it rough. From time to time she would tell me about boys she has been the day before. When I told her how I felt about it she would tell me she will cut her wrists. I would cry when she would say that. For real. I cared so much about her, and her... well... story. Though, I'm pretty sure it's not true. We had this „relationship“ for a good amount of time. Until she got bored. One day she just told me. I just wasn't interesting anymore, so she blocked me and disappeared forever. Well, until I found her facebook but I never added her. So there I was alone again. I tried cutting my wrists this time. I had no sidewalk to sit on. I just had a kitchen to run to... but I failed. I was destroyed. I got sick and stopped eating. This happened in the beginning of the summer. At the end of summer I was slim. I had lost the fat body. I puked it all and starved myself out of it. I was still the same loner inside but this time people didn't get disgusted at me at first sight. Before even my gym teacher called me fat. I'm sure puberty helped me loose the weight too by the way. So if you're fat, please don't starve yourself.

 

to be continued...


© Copyright 2020 Paul Zhuev. All rights reserved.

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