David Bowie – TVC 15

 

When I was a kid I was viciously bullied in a way that a viciously bullied kid could only know who lived in a small town. When I look back I realize that I experienced MI symptoms at an earlier age than I had previously thought. I was very paranoid as I believed that everyone (and I mean EVERYONE,) thought I was trash like my bullies treated me. I wouldn’t venture out of the house without a family member for fear that I would be ganged up on. That’s what happened at school, being ganged up on. The remnants of the mental punishment remain today. I sometimes can’t leave the house for fear that people will look at me. It’s like I live in invisible bars. As an adult I would take walks alone only after Midnight. No one was around and even if there were someone I could duck into the shadows and hide until they passed.

Later when I decided as a tool to help me exorcise the mental demons that tortured me constantly I would talk to my ParentsĀ and get a reality check to see if they saw life the same as I did at the times I was being bullied. (Remember that my mind bullies me now. Being bullied is societies way of brain washing you to conform to it’s standards and to become a whipping post for ignorant assholes’ fears and anger. It lasts long after the actual bullying stops.) I scrapped talking to my father. He was a sick m0therf^cker. He took it as an acceptable way to tell me his sex fantasies and sick experiences. He didn’t want to hear me, he wanted me to throw up his mind’s f^cked up fantasies onto and try to titillate. It made me hate him more.

My Mother did try to understand and she talked to me. One of the first things she said independently of me questioning her was that my younger brother had talked to her about the bullying I went through. He told her that he felt guilty for not protecting me from my tormenters. He was also being bullied at the time, this I knew. I told my Mother that I was not angry at him. I didn’t expect him to stand up for me. I also knew he was getting his own brand of torture.

I am tired just writing that down.

Today I heard that David Bowie died Sunday after struggling with cancer. I cried like I didn’t with Mom. I don’t understand that. The more I open myself up to my emotions the less I understand. Bowie’s music helped me through my Alaskan stay. Getting good music up there was a joke. And Bowie’s strange changes were comforting to me. They helped me feel like I was not alone in feeling so weird inside as an adolescent.

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