Childhood memories

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.

4 Responses to Childhood memories

  1. Justin Sung December 22, 2007 at 8:52 am #

    Poor you, I guessed you must be lone­ly that time, and you might need peo­ple to under­stand you. Why don’t we chat per­son­al­ly? Mind to be my friend? I wish I can be your frend.

  2. Cedric Ang December 22, 2007 at 7:54 pm #

    Being lone­ly is a very very sad expe­ri­ence. I mean, I have been there, done that; but I would not want to be in that sit­u­a­tion anymore.

  3. tee December 27, 2007 at 1:32 pm #

    u have a real­ly poor child­hood mem­o­ries oth­er than just­think the nege­tive site i think u have learn lot from these expe­ri­ences u have become much more inde­pen­dent than oth­er much more stronger than oth­er u r the best of now take k

  4. Cedric Ang December 28, 2007 at 10:45 pm #

    thanks tee

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