You know, sometimes I just have to admit, that I have this deep deep cut inside me that I have got during childhood. Well, my childhood life isn’t treating me so well, in fact, I hated a lot of my childhood memories till the state where I say silly things and hurt everybody’s feelings.
Life isn’t treating me too well. Sometimes I wonder why am I even here on earth. Everyone doesn’t seem to care about me. Parents treats me as if I am some adopted son. It always make me wonder, am I really adopted?
As far as I can remember, when I was still very young. Mother was pregnant with my brother. We know it’s a boy with the advance of the technology, well the doctor told us so. I remembered one day when we were visiting aunt’s house, and everyone got panicked and sent mother to the hospital. I remembered hearing them saying how to clean the blood from the seat, I still remember it clearly.
Mother blames me for everything bad that had happened to the family. Mother blames me for ‘killing’ my little brother; a little boy that I have never got to know his name.
Why do they have to do this to me? Mother a very strong buddist follower, she listens to whatever the *medium* tells her to do. The *medium* says I am a bad boy that brings bad luck to the family, that is how I ‘killed’ my brother. That is how I made my dad bankrupt, that is how …
Why do they have to do this to me? I was like 8 or 9 years old at the moment. Naughty and mischievous, but never a murderer. Mother still have to remind me that I ‘killed’ my brother every now and then during my early secondary school. The impact was really great.
When we moved to Penang, things have not been the best. Mother often chase me out of the house, and I remember there is this once where I was late for dinner, mother lock me out in the cold of the night. I have no where to go but to wander around, and I ended up an apartment that was still under construction, and there was a security guard there. I was still young, I still remember perhaps at the age of 11 or 12. Right there and then I lost my virginity; the Indian security guard decided that he is the right person to shove his cock into my ass and pump me with his dead seeds. Thinking back of that, it sometimes brings me the horror, sometimes it brings me the fear, sometimes it just give me that excitement.
I regret, that I did not remember any of that ass fucking that the Indian old man had given me; I probably might have enjoyed it. I remembered he played with my cock for a while, and he thought I was going to cum. He was dead wrong. So ya, I got fucked by a drunk Indian fucker who I have not known, and till this date, I still could not remember, was it pleasure, or pain.
I still remember, the drunk bastard was playing with my smooth cock. No pubic hair at all. He was sure having his fun playing with it. He turned me around, shoving his cock with his saliva straight up my ass, my cock hurts rubbing on the cold cement floor.
I still remember when I was really really young, I had this itch on my butt and I put my hand in my pants to relieve it. Mother thought I was probably masturbating. Sure at the age of 6! She make me take off my pants, and sleep naked. That was the first time I was sleeping naked. After sobbing myself quietly for a while, I fell asleep and got awaken by mother because she saw my cock hard. She asked me why am I hard. I could not answer.
I remember thouse humiliating moments when I was caught by mother playing the 20 cents video games in the arcade center. Mother made me walk all the way home without my pants.
Does being mischievous have this kind of price to pay? Now that I am older, and I wonder back in time, and I felt silly that my mother does that to me. Yet, I was young to complain any of these.
Sometimes it really strikes me in the head. Mother always say that I have the best thing in the world that no one has. Really? Dad says he will buy me a computer, but instead you put it in a room that is not mine. Even the room you said you will give it to me, and you gave it to the other person.
I wanted to ride a bike, I asked nicely, and you refused. Is that what you call ‘having everything’? Don’t blame me for stealing, you are the one that brags to everyone that I have got everything, you are the one that make me jealous of everyone.
I wonder, did I really did all these things to myself, or was it just parental influence.
I guess it all started wen you made me spend my night outside, alone, lonely and scared. What did I do to make you so pissed off that the whole incident practically changed my life. Just because I stayed up late somewhere and didn’t make it back for dinner, you have to make me spend my whole life regretting it.