52 stories

52 stories - WeFree

It was always my fault

What would I have given in order to have a girl to love, which would have given me strength, and hence experiences. The only thing I knew I could do was to feel guilty

for something, believing that I couldn’t do anything. To let my voice be heard was a struggle. To tell my point of view in order to feel important was hard, just so that I could have others see that I was worth something, and in the process, I would have hence been known for who I am, it was all to me, as hard as climbing Mount Everest would have been. If only I could not feel as if always wrong!

I’m 20 years old, and I come from Brescia, the first years of life I spent them with my mother and my grandmother, I never got to know who my father was.

The relationship between my mother and my grandmother, with whom I lived, has always been complicated, contentious. I remember them trying to get at each other in a bad light and this created a lot of confusion. And I suffered because I thought it was my entire fault, the cause of their quarrel. Just as I thought it was my entire fault: the end of the relationship between my mom and my dad: he had left her when he learned that she was pregnant with me.

In short, it was my fault. Well!!! I felt unwanted, unloved. I was convinced that I would always be the cause of all problems of the people I cared about.

I also felt responsible for my mother’s sacrifices, I felt like the weight that took away her freedom.

Even outside home, it did not go much better. I was shy, reserved. At school I hardly bonded with my peers. I only had few friends. Why would they be with me? I wasn’t funny, I seemed as if I never had anything to say, or never do anything that was interesting. I was on the sidelines. But I would have liked having fun with others.

Every time I felt uncomfortable or down because of my peers, I thought I was the wrong one and that I wasn’t wanted by anyone. As it had happened to me at home.

This discomfort, as well as conditioning me a lot, manifested with fear and anger: fear of being alone and anger of having all these weaknesses that would lead me to be alone.

To quell my fears and feel equal to others, I had to adapt to what I considered my closest friends, and so I began to smoke joints.

Initially this helped me and made me feel stronger, but then as time went on, I realized it was just an illusion, in fact, as the effect had passed, my fears had resurface ever more intensely, making me feel worse.

I then tried another route and I took acid with friends, and as with the joints, at the beginning I thought I had finally found the solution to my problems. Yet it was another illusion, once that world of extraordinary marvels ended, it only remained me of my messed up head. I was scared because I realized that the strong and happy person who I had became was just a fiction, it disappeared in an instant when the effect did.

I was angry with myself because I didn’t want to stand up; I preferred to pretend to feel good rather than to believe in myself.

I had achieved absolutely nothing. Indeed I had only made things worse. With more and more guilt, and more and more insecurities. Without any consideration for myself.

The drug had destroyed me ever more.

I was nothing.

I didn’t know how to do anything.

I had no friends, and I couldn’t talk to anyone.

I was too shy and I always felt as if I was just wrong.

I was alone. Terribly alone.