Chapter 1: A letter
Dear Pete,
It's 2 in the morning. I couldn't sleep a wink last night. His memories are beautiful, yet they kind of haunt me. I can't see his face but there's this voice "Benny! Look how tall you are." He has me on his shoulders. I guess I really need to work on myself. The way I'm being, I'm just making it harder for mom. Sometimes in the bathroom, she suddenly breaks down in the middle of singing some 90's pop. She thinks i don't know about it, but her cries can be heard out in the lounge. I know you're not gonna judge me like all of them do, Pete. I just don't know what to do. My life sucks. What did i do to deserve all of this at such a young age? Kids my age are busy getting drunk and making out with their girlfriends. While they struggle to decide what to wear to the night club, i struggle to sleep with all those memories. While they are afraid of what might happen if somebody sees their girlfriend's half naked photos, i am afraid to think of what might happen if i lose my mom too.
Am i weird Pete? I didn't wish to be like this. I just... Why don't they understand? I am having a really hard time. Its just the circumstances. They made me the way i am now. Why can't they just be kind to me? I can hear them mocking me in my dreams. When i can't sleep, there is always this other thing eating me up. Dad's fading shadows. Will i ever live a normal teenager's life?
16-02-2019
Ben.
Writing to Pete calmed me down. That was my only therapy. I struggle to sleep, a lot. Even after writing to Pete, sleep didn't greet me. I was tired. I laid with my eyes wide open,
for a minute,
for another couple of minutes,
for an hour,
and then I don't remember seeing the time, I fell asleep.
I woke up startled. It was the same dream. Those voices never seemed to quieten. With a life that was already an absolute representation of chaos, my dreams screamed nightmare.
I took out my diary and began scribbling on the paper, straining it until it tore.
I often dreamt of my father. When it wasn't father, I dreamt of those kids from school who mocked me because of him. My ass of a father who left us when I was 4. I despise him. But I crave his love exactly as much. That is what kills me. After father left, mom lost control. She seems to have forgotten that she has a son to look after. It was, instead, the opposite.
For someone who didn't know what being loved felt like, I was certainly a better human being than most people. But it was hard. Everything was.
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