It is one of those things you don’t talk about much. Not for the fact that you might be embarrassed by it. It’s just the fact if you told anyone they would think you’re weird and insane. Probably lock you up and discard you for a schizophrenia psycho.
When most people ask about my family I simply lie. My brother and I ran away from our abusive parents and came out here. We somehow made a living and here we are. Not so far from the truth but then people eat up mushy heartbreaking tale.
Fact I don’t even know where to start or what to make of it. I often dream of the past or should I say I am haunted by it. Something I can’t tell if the dreams really happened or not. But every time I awaken there is a cross in my hands. I know I never go to bed with one and each one is different. Sometimes it still burns when I touch it a little. However, I believe it is a message telling me God has not given up on my soul or the Devil being playful and trying to remind me of who I am or what I am?
A nun once told me, “ I am that which I chose to be…” she lowered her eyes a bit and said “there is a darkness that can not be changed in me but a light that can be shown threw.”
Strange for a nun to say that and even stranger for me to reflect upon it. Perhaps I don’t want to be what I am and I chose to be something else. It is after all a novel idea to be a different star upon the stages of the world. Then again that choice is beyond my control. Those who believe in fate will tell you that there is no such thing as control only a path to follow. Other will argue that fate is simply a guiding light shining in the direction we need to go, leading us before allowing us to find our destiny. Funny thing about life, death and fate is there is a million different ways to see it and a million different people trying to define and only one is right. Maybe, just maybe it is fate that brought me to where I am.
Certainly I have no control over who adopted my brother and I. I don’t remember why we were there, how we got there, who our parents were or anything before the adoption. I just remember leaving the building and driving. We must of drove for hours upon hours. I would look out the window and it seemed like we were driving the same stretch of road over and over again. Grass, fence, cow! Repeat.
Finally the car begin to slow down and turned a sharp corner down a gravel road. I remember looking out the back of the window to see dust clouds swirling behind the car. There I swear I seen an angel. She had this sad look on her face and seemed to be chasing after us. I thought for a moment that this was a blessing. A good blessing telling me everything was going to be alright. I have since learned to be more careful about declaring things a “blessing” in life.
I remember the longer we drove on the gravel road the darker it seemed to get and the further back the imagine of the angel seem to be. Finally I could see her no longer and shifted my attention elsewhere. There was this strange cloudy mist everywhere and it was not like normal fog. It was heavier, stickier and left a burnt taste of meat in your mouth. Now even to this day I still get a little nervous in fog.
As the car begin to slow down I started to unbuckled myself to look out the window easier. I was trying to see a house, the place where I would live. However, I couldn’t see anything. There was just darkness and fog. Finally the car stopped and the man got out and open the back door for us. I stood there confused and more afraid then I ever thought I could be. Then again at that time I didn’t know what “true” fear was. The man lead us up to an old metal gate that was so bitterly cold it hurt my fingers to even touch it.
“Go on pass the gate, remember to lock it once inside. Then follow and stick to the path… When you reach a door just knock upon it and your mother and father will await you,” he said in a deep monotone voice. I remember trying to search for warmth in his words but I couldn't find any. I was so cold, that I just opened the gate hastily grabbed my brother by the hand turned to take one last glimpse at the man as I locked it and then started to run as fast I could. I could hardly see the path in front of me. It kept twisting and turning and there were these sharp thorns biting at my flesh every time I missed stepped, even if it was just a little. I kept going faster and faster until I reached some stone steps and found myself face to face with a big, old, wooden door. I took a deep breath, look at my brother who was almost in tears and knocked upon it. I guess this is where it all starts. When fate intervenes with my life.
When most people ask about my family I simply lie. My brother and I ran away from our abusive parents and came out here. We somehow made a living and here we are. Not so far from the truth but then people eat up mushy heartbreaking tale.
Fact I don’t even know where to start or what to make of it. I often dream of the past or should I say I am haunted by it. Something I can’t tell if the dreams really happened or not. But every time I awaken there is a cross in my hands. I know I never go to bed with one and each one is different. Sometimes it still burns when I touch it a little. However, I believe it is a message telling me God has not given up on my soul or the Devil being playful and trying to remind me of who I am or what I am?
A nun once told me, “ I am that which I chose to be…” she lowered her eyes a bit and said “there is a darkness that can not be changed in me but a light that can be shown threw.”
Strange for a nun to say that and even stranger for me to reflect upon it. Perhaps I don’t want to be what I am and I chose to be something else. It is after all a novel idea to be a different star upon the stages of the world. Then again that choice is beyond my control. Those who believe in fate will tell you that there is no such thing as control only a path to follow. Other will argue that fate is simply a guiding light shining in the direction we need to go, leading us before allowing us to find our destiny. Funny thing about life, death and fate is there is a million different ways to see it and a million different people trying to define and only one is right. Maybe, just maybe it is fate that brought me to where I am.
Certainly I have no control over who adopted my brother and I. I don’t remember why we were there, how we got there, who our parents were or anything before the adoption. I just remember leaving the building and driving. We must of drove for hours upon hours. I would look out the window and it seemed like we were driving the same stretch of road over and over again. Grass, fence, cow! Repeat.
Finally the car begin to slow down and turned a sharp corner down a gravel road. I remember looking out the back of the window to see dust clouds swirling behind the car. There I swear I seen an angel. She had this sad look on her face and seemed to be chasing after us. I thought for a moment that this was a blessing. A good blessing telling me everything was going to be alright. I have since learned to be more careful about declaring things a “blessing” in life.
I remember the longer we drove on the gravel road the darker it seemed to get and the further back the imagine of the angel seem to be. Finally I could see her no longer and shifted my attention elsewhere. There was this strange cloudy mist everywhere and it was not like normal fog. It was heavier, stickier and left a burnt taste of meat in your mouth. Now even to this day I still get a little nervous in fog.
As the car begin to slow down I started to unbuckled myself to look out the window easier. I was trying to see a house, the place where I would live. However, I couldn’t see anything. There was just darkness and fog. Finally the car stopped and the man got out and open the back door for us. I stood there confused and more afraid then I ever thought I could be. Then again at that time I didn’t know what “true” fear was. The man lead us up to an old metal gate that was so bitterly cold it hurt my fingers to even touch it.
“Go on pass the gate, remember to lock it once inside. Then follow and stick to the path… When you reach a door just knock upon it and your mother and father will await you,” he said in a deep monotone voice. I remember trying to search for warmth in his words but I couldn't find any. I was so cold, that I just opened the gate hastily grabbed my brother by the hand turned to take one last glimpse at the man as I locked it and then started to run as fast I could. I could hardly see the path in front of me. It kept twisting and turning and there were these sharp thorns biting at my flesh every time I missed stepped, even if it was just a little. I kept going faster and faster until I reached some stone steps and found myself face to face with a big, old, wooden door. I took a deep breath, look at my brother who was almost in tears and knocked upon it. I guess this is where it all starts. When fate intervenes with my life.
