Like anything I’ve tried to write over the last few years I’ve restarted this post several times. In some cases I lose that motivation the moment I try to put the thoughts into words. In others it’s because I’ve been trying to accomplish too many tasks at once. Recently I have been attempting to deal with a lot of mental and emotional struggles that have gone on longer than they should have.

I’m an angry person. I can feel it. Eating away. Mostly suppressed down, but occasionally its dark tendrils find freedom with a brief rant or even a slight emotional burst of irritability and frustration. Most people won’t see it often, if ever. I wear a mask. A mask made of false contentment. A mask covering a lifetime of resentment, regret and disappointment.

Yes, resentment. Only recently have I realized exactly how much I hold on too. In considering the often faded memories of youth I started to pin point very specific things that bother me. Things I put up with for no other reason than I didn’t know better. Naivety of youth.

I was class nerd from kindergarten to graduation, within the same building and with the same people, never fitting in for 13 years. A black sheep. A target for the physical and mental torment at the hands one ones peers. Something only recently do I think had a more profound impact on me than previously realized.

The resentment I hold onto isn’t just centered around childhood. It is affected by choices I’ve made, and people I’ve let into my life or people that I let stay in too long out of some misguided notion of loyalty. Recently however, I have been considering those things in life that I resent, or rather realize now how much I hated.

These are things I can’t change. It’s taken me a long to time get to that understanding. The belief that opportunities and ideas were twisted and malformed because of that time. Or realizing that a friendship was more of a competition not from childhood competitiveness but by parental jealousy.

Feeling different than others because of how I saw things at the time, and still do even now. A social pariah. Only recently understanding other factors that may have played a role in social acceptance.

The whole process has helped me see a lot of my faults. Today it seems almost like a past life. Dreams of a memory. I’ve said numerous times that person is dead, but his memory lives on, lingering like a shadow, haunting. To be honest, I think it’s relatively clear that the memory, the shadow, is the angry one.

I spent the majority of my childhood escaping into video games. I was the champion of the Mushroom Kingdom, and the savior of Hyrule. I traveled to the Moon and toppled Zeromus, survived the World of Ruin to bring down Kefka, and defeated Sephiroth. My Final Fantasy. Eight and sixteen bit heroism. Maturation in isolationism.

There are indeed many things I have to work through and I will get to explaining those in due time. I wanted to look back on my own past with new eyes. However it has been suggested that might not be helpful in “healing” as what could be thought of as facing something, could be more damaging in that it is only reliving the trauma.

“And now I see clearly. All these times, I simply stepped aside.
I watched but never really listened as the whole world passed me by.”

Five Finger Death Punch: I Apologize

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