There once was a boy.
Growing up wasn't easy for him, but then again, it's not easy for anyone.
Many times, this boy went through all sorts of abuse (verbal, mental, emotional, and spiritual).
At first, things looked pretty normal. As he got older, he seemed to disappoint the people he cared about.
This boy couldn't help but feel that he was a disappointment, over and over.
In an effort to make other people happy, he sacrificed his identity.
He became whomever others wanted him to be. He did what made other people happy.
But this left the boy feeling empty inside.
Over time, he forgot who HE was, and so he decided to make an attempt to figure it out again.
But the more he discovered about himself, the more he felt the stinging, burning lash
of disappointment and anger like a cat 'o nine tails upon his spirit.
Every turn he made seemed to garner either disappointment or anger,
and in other cases, this boy just blended into the scenery, invisible.
Soon, prolonged exposure to these feelings left the boy hopeless.
He was certain that he was unimportant. He had been invisible too many times.
He was certain that he was a waste of time and space. He had been a disappointment too many times.
He was certain that people would be happier without him. He had been the subject of anger too often.
Clinging onto the crisp, freezing weather of winter, he felt sad. A sadness like a deep, dark, inescapable hole.
He kept trying to pour meaning into the hole. Tried to make sense of what he was feeling, but every time he tried, it just came back to the same conclusions. The problem was him. There was no way the problem was everyone else. Surely, if so many people thought he wasn't important, they must be right. Surely, if so many people thought he was a disappointment, they couldn't be wrong. And surely being a disappointment was as bad as being useless. It was practically the same thing, in his book.
The boy wanted to feel love, but when he turned to face the ones he needed it from the most, he was met with opposition. He reached for the people he cared about, doing what he could to show that he was worthwhile in some way. But in return, he was corrected. Shown how little his efforts were worth.
Then, one day, the boy gave up. And he decided that it would be better to just die.
He didn't want to be a burden to people anymore, and all his efforts were bringing back results the opposite of his intent. But, when the time came, the boy was such a failure, he couldn't even die properly.
Screaming out in anguish and despair deep in his mind, the boy did the one thing he had yet to try.
He was certain that he was going to fail, but he tried. He spoke frankly about it to a classmate.
It was only in passing, and he thought, being invisible as he was, surely it wouldn't work.
But somehow, it did. Just this one time, something he said made sense to the people around him.
Like a breeze, normally ignored, suddenly receiving attention because it howls through a crack, his words were heard.
At first, the boy was happy that someone had heard him, but then as the situation developed, he realized that speaking that one time had only brought more disappointment in the people who he cared about.
They said they were worried about him. What he heard was "how could you say something so stupid?"
In an attempt to fix the boy, who was clearly broken, a man tried to teach him about other people from thousands of years in the past who had felt sad, or angry. The mad said "look at these people. They were sad, and they were angry, but they didn't kill themselves."
But the boy didn't buy it. It wasn't that the boy felt sad or angry. The boy felt like there was no hope for him. He was far beyond sad. And if he was angry at anyone, it was himself, for being such a miserable failure. The boy also felt that the examples were too detached. These were guys in a book from thousands of years ago.
For all the boy knew (and he admitted to himself, things could go either way), the people may not have even been real. But even if they didn't kill themselves (once again, the boy thought that it was possible they might have, anyway. "I mean, it *was* thousands of years ago. Maybe that story was just lost or not recorded.") their issues were much different than his. They were leaders of large groups of people. The boy wasn't even a leader of himself, much less anyone else. They were inspirational, grand figures who started out as humble but capable people. The boy wasn't even capable, he was just a disappointment.
But as time went on, the man refused to stop telling the stories of the bygone people, of questionable existence, and dead regardless. The boy grew tired of hearing these stories. They made his problems seem small. His problems seemed small, and the fact that he felt their weight so heavily just was more proof to him that he was worthless.
In an effort to end the suffering, in a manner of speaking, he came up with a brilliant solution. Probably the first thing he ever did right, he figured. Simply, don't feel anything, and you can't feel bad, he thought. So, he decided to become like stone. Unmoving, unbreakable, and unfeeling. And when he had taken up this charade enough that he began to feel nothing, the suffering at the hands of the man trying to help ended.
But this solution was no true solution at all. The deepest feelings seeped out, and once again, became a disappointment to others.As the years went on, the boy began to realize who he was.
His role in the world was to be alone, misunderstood, and hated by some of those whom he cared about the most. And this did little to help the boy move forward. So he sought some good. He tried to make friends with people who would care about him, and not be disappointed with him even if he was a disappointment to everyone else.
That backfired, though. And soon, he found himself isolated. Some confused ladies in his isolation asked him why he had been set aside as he had. When he explained, they were shocked.
"That's not right! You're such a polite, nice boy! You follow the rules, and you're so kind. You don't belong here." they said. And here, the boy felt like maybe he wasn't such a disappointment, because he was being compared with people who were just as much a disappointment, but they hated everything else, instead of themselves. The boy concluded that he was less of a total failure than the other people were, because he knew how to accept responsibility for being a total failure and giant disappointment to the people in his life.
Soon, the boy was allowed to re-join the group, but it wasn't too long before he had been enough of a disappointment to get placed back into relative isolation. But this time, situations got worse. The boy made some bad decisions, and became one of the biggest disappointments ever. Not only were people yelling, screaming, and crying because of his actions, but his latest mistake had cost the people he cared for a large sum of money too.
So, trying to make up for everything, the boy poured all his energy into becoming stoic, and unchanging. He figured if he could get to the point of just being invisible again, and then never change, it would be better than costing everyone is his life everything. And this time, it worked. Or, so he thought.
Several years passed by, and by being invisible and trying to not be himself, the boy somehow became liked. He was still a cowardly disappointment down deep in his heart, but it wasn't hurting anyone, so the boy was satisfied with being stoic, even though it meant he felt nothing.
But people kept coming into his life, and leaving. And the people he kept meeting started wearing down his careful stone defence. And soon, he found himself back where he started. Several years older, but just as much of a disappointment as ever. If not worse for all the time he spent deceiving people into believing he wasn't worthless and disappointing.
And soon, the boy fell back into that pit of despair and hopelessness that he had painted with bright colours to pretend it wasn't there. Sitting at the bottom of the cavernous expanse of hopelessness, he reached out to some people across the world who were in the same place. But, one evening, he was discovered participating in actions that caused him not only to be embarrassed, but also to disappoint some of the few people who he hadn't hurt yet. And, in an attempt to stop him from making that mistake again, those people cut him off from the only connection he had to anyone who know what it was like being where he was.
They didn't know, but it dealt a heavy blow to his spirit. So, he spoke to a man who was supposed to be a spiritual guide. And that man told him to stop being a disappointment, and things would be ok. When the boy asked how, the man had responded that he needed to show respect to the people whom he cared about.
And when he tried, the boy ended up back in a place where there was no light. The deepest section of the pit. The part so far down, he hadn't bothered with painting. He couldn't even wake up after that, because he was too tired of being a disappointment. And when he missed meetings and classes, he knew that even doing those things was an act which was causing disappointment and anger.
Eventually, this boy managed to make it through college, but it meant very little. It was a hollow victory.
In many ways, the boy was still a disappointment. All his history reminded him of what a failure he was.
His looks were undesirable, and his skills were diverse, but pointless.
His knowledge was plentiful, but of no use.
And so the boy found himself still alone, less than a handful of people who saw him as he was, and loved him regardless. Less than half of them not disappointed or angered by him at some time.
And the boy was sad. He was very sad.
He felt so alone. It felt like there was no hope for him.
He knew he could accomplish the bare minimum, but that was it.
He could tell: nobody would want to be with him.
Why would anyone want to be with a guy who was such a disappointment?
Why would anyone want to be with a guy who looked like he did?
Why would anyone want to be with a guy who had messed up so badly?
Why would anyone want to be with a guy who was so unworthy of the love that he desired?
The boy thought about these things, and he was certain that the time would never come.
He knew. His chances of finding the love he wanted were like the chances that he would live to be 300.
His chances of finding the love he wanted were the chances he had to win the lottery's grand prize.
His chances of finding the love he wanted were like his chances of being anything more than a disappointment to the people he wanted to love, but had lost the ability to care about.
The boy, hurt as he was, couldn't bear to look at himself honestly anymore.
Doing so hurt. Doing so reminded him of how he had failed so badly.
But sometimes, the boy couldn't help but think about who he was.
And he realized, the person who he had disappointed the most, was himself.
He had become exactly what he had wished he wouldn't have to be.
And if he couldn't love himself, he didn't know how anyone else could love a failure like him.
He felt convinced that love would never happen for him.
And it was a relief. Because he could finally stop shouldering the burden of hope.
Hope, which had been the only thing keeping him going.
It was a heavy burden. It was supposed to be the thing that lifted him up, but hope had become the one thing that always weighed him down. Because every time his hopes were dashed, he was forced to look at himself.
And every glance at himself was filled with despair, disgust, and anger.
Why should anyone love him? He didn't deserve it.
And so the boy was free to let go of hope, but he had become attached.
So, he couldn't even let go of hope anymore. And he knew what it meant.
It meant that he was doomed to forever be further and further let down.
That a rock-bottom would likely never come. Only a bottomless abyss.
And this boy was me.
