Broken Windows

2~ Tragic Situations

Isn't it nice when things turn out the way you want them to?

Like when you really want a situation to go a certain way and somehow it turns out exactly the way you wanted it to, and not like you convinced yourself it would go prior to the situation. Its a nice feeling, isn't it?

It would help if I had actually experienced a situation going exactly like I wanted it to.

That would help.

For example: my tragic birth.

I was an accident. My father says that often when he has a bit too much to drink. One too many cans of lager when he is dwelling in his own disgusting self pity and utter lonliness. Him and my mother in the early days of March 1999, forgot to use protection. Biggest mistake of their lives, am I right?

My mother fell pregnant with me on the 10th March 1999. When she took the 7 different tests to make sure that it was true, she refused to tell my father. Even though they had been married since November 9th 1993, my father refused to have a child. He just didn't like kids. At all. Great for me.

However, when the fact that she was pregnant with me got through to father, he reacted extremely differently to what my mother expected. And not in a good way.

He started to hit her.

All throughout her pregnancy with me inside of her stomach, she was physically abused by my sick excuse for a father.

The authorities still don't know.

But that might be because she is dead.

The abuse that my mother suffered as a result of my fathers rage caused her many complications during the actual birth. She started bleeding heavily when I was being born, she haemorraged internally when the placenta came away and she was dead within minutes of my birth.

Her last words were a weak whisper of my name.

My father, being the sentimental and oh so innocent man he is, named me as she wished.

Thus my name, and therefore I, was born.

It kind of makes sense that I'm called Rosa; my mother was called Lily. There's a theme of flower names in my family, it might seem.

So, at only a few minutes old, i was a murderer. Not even my birth was a situation that went anywhere near what it should have done. It was an event which sparked a chain of events which sent my life spiralling downwards into the miserable pit I call my entire existence.

Thanks dad for not wearing a condom like you should have. Again, thanks a lot.

~

I was bullied as a child. Mercilessly.

During primary school from ages 3 to 11,  wasnt so bad. It was just name calling, some guys in my classes calling me the terrible names all 6 year olds call each other; "poopy head", "smelly bum", and the worst one of all time, "you aren't my friend anymore."

Life changing.

But those few insults that I received every single day of my life during primary school were nothing compared to my high school life. Up until halfway through year 8, it was basically the same as primary school: insults, the occassional hit on the back of the head in passing.

But then when I was forced to come out, it got worse. The little friends that I had somehow gotten in the year and a half that I had spent in that hellhole, left me. Alone. In the sea of negativity that I was forced to swim in.

Fun times.

When I was in year 10, the bullies took it too far. I was dragged into the local park and beaten with sticks, fists and feet. They broke my wrist, knee, and nose.