Why The World Picked Me
Now time for the truth, my father knew it was me and was so mad at me he pulled his belt from his waist and started hit- ting me with it. I was screaming “NO, NO more!” And finally the beating was over. When he stopped hit- ting me he looked at me and his anger drove a stake right through my heart and stayed there for a very long time. The look on his face was so enraged that I thought my time on this planet must be over.
There wasn’t a lot of love in our family and my par- ents never seemed to show much love towards each other. It seemed like hatred and emptiness ran their lives. I heard anger in my parent’s voice pretty much every day. Of course there were good times in my life, but they were few and far between.
When I was three I discovered wine. It seemed to make everything feel good again and I would steal glasses of wine and get drunk when company came over. My parents would find me passed out in wood box and would put me to bed. Nothing was said.
Inside my heart I ached for a life that I didn’t know existed, one where I felt loved and appreciated. Was that even possible?
Of course, there were good times in my life, like the time when I asked for a nice shiny new bike for Christmas. When I got it, I was so excited that I want- ed to ride around the farm until the sun sunk slowly past the horizon and day became night. Those were moments of pure joy in my life.
My parents had a few moments of joy together, like when they had a vision of building an amazing garden with fresh vegetables and apples in the fall ready to make fresh apple juice, but those moments were far and few between.