My family wasn't the only ones to blame for who I was. I was drawn to the fire. It burned my flesh. I loved it. Eventually, I needed more. My family wasn't abusing me enough I needed someone new. I reached out into the world and I looked around for people like me. I started studying people, realizing why they were doing what they were doing. I had a feel for it. It was like a drug. I became addicted to helping. Putting my nose in where it didn't belong and taking the punishment that came from each choice. Each time the price was higher. Each time I willingly paid for every choice.
Eventually, I wasn't helping people, because they needed it. I was helping people because I needed to fix them. I couldn't stop myself, and when they didn't form to who i wanted I would lash out and try to force them to play the role I wanted. I lost friends and Family. Slowly everyone turned from me one by one. They fled from me faster than I could keep up. I couldn't understand why I was suddenly unhappy. Somewhere along the way I became addicted to the chaos it caused, and I lost my calling.
I became wrapped up in helping, I didn't know how to stop. I was helping the people with the wrong issues. While I should have been telling them to turn left, I was telling them to turn right. Leading each one into destruction, but in doing so, I was leading them exactly where they needed to be. I took a step back from helping and saw what I had done. I stopped. I couldn't keep going. I wasn't helping anyone. They were feeding my addiction, and I was controlling their failures. I started pushing everyone out of my life. I started pitching a fit and I started playing the monster. Over and over, I would slip back in to the clutches of my addiction. One by one, I ran off everyone who would dare to feed me. I loved them, but I was abusing them, and in turn I allowed them to abuse me.
As I let them slip away, a few friends hung on. The ones who slipped though the cracks. The ones that I had chosen for a reason. The ones that saw the truth in my eyes. There were few, and so far between. I stopped hurting them and I helped them. The friends, who saw I wasn't actually crazy and knew what I was doing. They were the ones who wanted to be like me. I found, my family tought me to be a great puppet master, and I had mastered the art. I listened to their problems, and I heard the issue they were really dealing with. Now with all the noise gone, I realized I could really help someone. I started with them. I didn't give them everything they wanted. I only gave them the advice they needed. I started this to heal people by allowing them to heal themselves. I listened to how they whispered what they wanted in my ear. I heard them, and said, "Ok. Do it." I was the frirst person to completely conect with God. To worship God, is to lay down your life to him. I spent my life worshiping my family. Giving them everything they wanted. In doing so, I worshiped my God, because told me to do it that way. Honnor you mother. I honored her, by allowing her to treat me like a baby, because that was what made her fight to get through the day. I Honored her by never giving up on my self and just waiting till i could take care of her problems. By letting her yell at me, because she wasn't saying those things to me. She was punishing herself. I honored my father, but not excepting him when he returned to find me blissfully unawaire of how burried I was in my work. I loved my neighbor, but hating them, and leaving so they didn't have to hear my mother scream out in the night. Letting her fight to sooth herself and only stepping in when she needed me. I honored my mother, with sitting in my room crying my eyes out, because I knew this rotting corpse I was caring for wasn't my mother. It was the beast my choices left me with. It was the devil I chose to fight, because no one could care for and love my mom the way i could. She was my cross to bare, and mine alone. Why, because no one else could, now the would had become just like her. My cross to bare.
They were lost soles, and I was the one who could speak the truth. I was able to analyze a situation to know when to step in and protect someone from their own demons. I am also someone who is able to go toe to toe with peoples demons. They wanted to fight, and I wanted to help them.
Slowly I grew stronger. In helping them I found myself. I am the daughter of a crazy women, who was raised by other crazy women. Who gave birth to crazy sons. I am the daughter of Crazy men. Who created crazy sons and daughters to create crazy children. I was also the girl who could speak to the dead, and tell them exactly what they didn't want to hear. I was the one who would allow you to hang your self. I was the one who handed you the rope. I was also the one who reached out a hand in time to save you.
I gave you everything them everything they needed to ruin them selves. I was also there to catch them when they fell. To pick them back up when they failed. I was the one that let them wallow. Then pushed them out the door and made them get back out there and try again. The ones who saw I was helping helped me in turn. They gave me time to wallow and then ran me off back to fight my wars. Just a second to breath and then back to work.
In this I found, I wasn't as alone as I thought I was. I was connected to every one around me. Not just everyone, but everything also. I started to feel the energy that flowed though me. When I touched a room suddenly I could see the past. It played over in my mind like stories of old. I had to touch the world. I didn't realize, to touch the world, came at such a price.
If I wanted to hear the voices of the dead. I had to live where the dead lived. I searched the grave yards. What I found there were a ton of spooks. Nothing compared to my own demons. These were the ones we made to entertain ourselves. I could feel the depression of what everyone had lost there, but I couldn't find anyone who had anything to say. They were all at peace with who they were.
It wasn't until I turned my eyes to the world that I realized we made our own demons. We gave them to each other. We cursed ourselves to carry everyone's problems, until they haunted us. When we were tired of fighting one demon. We moved to another. I was running from the exact thing I was trying to find. The truth.
We create gods to worship, because we feel guilty for loving ourselves. We don't believe we deserve heaven, therefore it doesn't exist. We live in Hell, just to be able to do what we want. We blame God and the devil in order to protect ourselves. We create demons, that way we have someone to fight. All the while ignoring the fact that every race of man did the same thing in their own way. Not to piss everyone off, but to just get through their own war.
We needed something to look forward to in order to keep ourselves going. We crave attention and we get it. We push people away when we are done. We fight each other, because we are bored with fighting ourselves. We create reasons to fight with out realizing it, and its not our fought. That is how we are raised and keep raising our children.
To punish your child is a crime, to spoil them is love. To let them pitch their fit, is neglect. To correct them is abuse. There was no answer that didn't have a contradiction. To live in this world meant becoming a monster, but no one wanted to hear.
I did. I wanted to hear their problem. I wanted to hear what they did. I wanted to know how they would react. I wanted to help. I did.
Sometimes they would fight me, and I would have to let them do it on their own. Refusing to be any help till they fell flat on their face. I would wait. Then sit there beside them and help them figure out why that decision was wrong. They could see what was going on. For once, I was right. I ignored their whining and listened to their cry for help. I started fixing my mistakes, but helping them fix them selves. In doing so I reached out and touch so many lives. People who remember me. They take time and say hello. Stop me on the street for a hug and how do you do. They take me out to eat, or help me with a problem I'm having trouble with. Not because I asked, but because I listened and did nothing to help. In allowing them to vent. I allowed them to make their own choices. I let them find something to reach for. I gave them their lives back. Then I sent them back home and let them fight.
I would be here. With a helping hand when they needed it. I became the worlds mother. Touching lives and healing people. It felt good, and this time I didn't feel guilty.
I felt at peace. With each person I could help point in the right direction. With each touch on their lives, people opened up to me. I could see them for what they were. Their beauty radiated. Just as I knew it would.
People around them wanted the same, and some would try and steal their happiness. When they saw they needed help they would bring their friend to me. With each friend it became easier. I only needed a few meetings before I could hear their thoughts. Not because they were telling me, but because they were screaming it at me. I would listen to their words, but I heard their story. When I repeated back what they said to me they didn't want to listen. Trying to convince them selves what I as saying wasn't right. Each one fleeing from the truth that was them. Only to meet me later in life. By then I had forgotten about them, but they remember me. Because I made a mark on their life. I helped them through something. I told them the truth, and I never spoke one word. I let them do all the talking, and they told themselves exactly who they were.
I'm not a perfect person, and I don't claim to be. There are times when I slip up. When I make a mistake I own up to it. I also offer to fix my mistakes. I have a reason for everything I do, but the reason doesn't matter if it harms someone in a negative way. If I tell someone they should go left, and they miss what was on the right, only to get hit by a truck. By then it doesn't matter, I was trying to help them avoid the bus, I didn't collect enough information, to know to watch out for the truck.
That is still my fault. Sometime I forget to fact check everything in an attempt to help my friends, and end up hurting them in the long run. I use those experiences to evaluate my situation. Did I get involved because I was bored, or because they really needed my help. I found that when I am bored, they crash and burn. When I am actually helping they do not. However, I do not allow them to blame me for a lesson they didn't want to hear, and ended up crashing and burning anyways. Not everything is my fault. We share the blame. I can only offer my advice where I can, and own up to my words. It is their choice to figure out if I am helping, or if I'm just handing them their own rope.
I had one friend who took her aggression out on herself, and then turned it on everyone around her. She tried to play the savior, because I was helping her. She ended up getting a taste and getting drunk with power. As a mother should, I allowed her to do as she pleased. As a friend, I gave her the tools she needed. As her family, I picked her up when she was finished. I told her the truth. This time she listened. I handed her the tools she needed. Then sent her home.
Sometimes, she listens, sometimes she doesn't. When she doesn't I let her learn. When she does. I help her. With that she is learning to help others. After seeing it blow up in her face, she knows better than to take on more than she can handle. Help where you can. Don't take on the world alone. Bounce idea's off someone not involved, but always, always give all the facts. I will ask around and I will know. The truth isn't in your words. The truth is in your actions.
I promised every one of my friends I would keep them safe. I do. I'll never tell the world who they are. My story involved them. I never said I wouldn't tell our story. I will keep your secrets, eventually, you will tell the world who you are. It's not up to me to tell that. I'm simply here to help. You happened to give me a story to tell. For that I am grateful.
I hope that by me telling my story, it will help someone out figure out how to keep fighting. I've given myself to my breaking point. I had to rescue my self every time, and I hope my words give truth to those caught in lies. With that I hope they find their reason to live.
Getting back on topic. I saw how corrupt everything was. The bible was wrote to tell us of a god that lived in Heave. He was created to create us. To explain where we come from, the earth, his breath. Our mother and father, sitting right there before our eyes. We made a father to worship and relinquished out power to him. Then we ripped him from heaven and put him on earth. We hid him in human form. He watched us. Some us of listened and picked up on who he was. While others set out to defeat him. This world pushed him to telling them who he was. Then beat it out of him. He didn't fight back, he stood there and took it. In taking the abuse we dished out, he spoke volumes. Few people listened. We then strung him up on a cross and executed him for doing exactly what we asked. He let us hang ourselves. After words we asked why? When he answered, because you asked me to. When he prayed to him self, He called out to a father, one that turned his back on him. Exactly as he does us every day. Not because he doesn't want us to help. Because We ask him to. Just as we have since we first opened our eyes. After we abused him we put him in a tomb. When he rose again, we retreated. He had showed us ourselves, and the truth was, we created a god to create us, so we could destroy him, and it was all in his name. We split our religion through history. Spreading the word and breaking it up till we had something that fit to our story. With this we split our god in peaces, but he came back. Each time, helping where he could. He carried the blame for all the wrong done. He carried the blame for all the good. Nothing was his fault and everything was his plan, exactly as we demanded it to be. We created the perfect being. Someone to carry the load, but who could never do anything. In doing nothing, he did everything.
This wasn't the first time, or the last time I was confronted with this story. I started to see it in every story. Each god I studied. They were created for us to use. To blame something on, to worship, to simply exist for our entertainment. One by one we slaughtered them all. I started to wonder if maybe they fell from the havens we built for them. Only to become the monster's in our dreams. If that were true, then it would explain so much. It would explain why there were big foots out there believed to control the lightening and thunder, and why there were some who could read our minds. It would explain why aliens were visiting us, and never staying. Everything that was happening around me suddenly made sense. We created everything in order to defeat it. We were simply afraid.
Look at the moves we were making. Everything became backwards. Religion was bad, because it made you be good. Working was bad because it made you a slave. Everything was bad because nothing was created for good. We are taught to ignore hand outs, but to give everything away. We were told to forget about ourselves. The problem we listen.
I found that a person on their own, was perfectly fine. It was when you put in all the factors of life that they loose them selves. Give them power and they become addicted. Take it away, and they declare war. We made everything we love, and then ripped it to shreds it with greed. We created a trade system. Then ruined it by creating money. We sold our soles to a monster, but worship it as if it is a god.
Everything we want bleeding from our veins. Veins we cut open to feed the world with. She drank our blood till she craved it. When she fought back we tried to tame her. It didn't matter who got hurt, as long as we could find something to fight for. I chose to fight for something no one else had. The ability to stand still. To observe. To heal. Why? Not because I want something from them. Because they ask me to.
In observing, I found the tools I needed to defend for myself, and my family. Picking up new family along the way. Pulling them each from the brink of death to help them figure out why they were trying to die in the first place. Allowing them a moment to breath. Playing the victim is a hard job. Playing the mother is harder. I raised my self up from the ashes. I no longer needed any answers. Everyone believes something different. As long as they are around someone who believe the same thing, It made since to them. There was no other truth you could tell them. Not until they saw it themselves.
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