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Prologue: How My Life Goes
As all humans, my life started with my conception, then my birth where life begins. From there, people can have many things happen to them: loss, addiction, great evils, terrors, abundance, happiness, joy. Whatever outside stimuli they are surrounded by affects them greatly. It helps shape them into whatever they are destined to be.
I was surrounded by ignorant bliss, never-ending happiness. Things that belong, and should stay, within the realm of fairytales. Outside of fairytales, where reality exists, is when happiness can quickly and surely fall, and continue for many seconds, minutes, days, months, years.
The happiness my family and I experienced collapsed the day my father lost his job. My mother became constantly mad at him, and later on revealed the only reason why she married him was for money. No love. Any loving connection that existed emotionally was one sided. My oldest brother, Michael, was 12, and he started becoming self-conscious and introverted, more so than before. The next oldest, Jake, was about 10, and he takes after mother in everything: looks, personality, odd habits. So he too became constantly angry and was always sent home from a fight he started.
I’m the next oldest. I have a twin, well, we call each other twins. He is actually younger than me by about 10 months, but we have the same features and personality. He is more outgoing in his sports and things while I am more artistic, but that’s about the only difference. Our names, Steven and Stephanie, are close to each other that we can claim our parents wanted their twins to have similar names.
We were about 7 at the time, and watching all of this happen around us was confusing. And at the start, looking back on it, it was so much easier and less complicated than now.
Steven and I still didn’t understand, so everyone around us acted like everything was alright, putting fake smiles on, faking kind conversation, only when they knew we could hear. We are quiet people and we were small at the time, so eavesdropping was far easier than the rest of them knew, or would ever know. We would hear the sounds of hitting, breaking glass, large objects hitting walls, screams and yells. By the time we were 8 we learned to stay in our rooms all the time. At age 10, my parents finally fought in front of us. Dad always tucked us in at night and told us, "I love you,” and after all of this for 4 years, my mother says, "Why do you keep pretending you actually care?!”
His response: "They need a father! I can’t act like I’m not!”
Not because he truly loves us, but for our sake of needing a father. Obviously I don’t consider either my parent.
My brothers were raising us, and we stayed out later and later, and left for school earlier and earlier. Finally, one night, Michael said that we were moving. I can’t say I wasn’t excited to get out of that house. When we moved out of that house and stayed with Jake’s friends, I fell into a period of bliss once again.
This was at age 12, during the summer. Nice way to begin 8th grade, a seemingly important grade. Why is all of this important? Simply put: so you can understand what I’ve gone through.
Vaguely cryptically: cycles exist. And repeat… and repeat… and repeat…
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