Growing Up Is Wrong

Ever since I was young I have always happened to find myself being the black sheep of the flock; the odd one of the group. I was the youngest of my two brothers and also happened to be the quietest. Growing up wasn’t easy for my family and I, since my mother was a single immigrant mother of three and had no one else to support her. You might be asking yourself “What about your father?” well my mother left him right before I was born due to the fact that he was abusive to my mother and siblings, an alcoholic, and wanted to include my mother in illegal activities he would commit. So one can assume my mother spent most of her time working on a factory just to support her three children and keep us in school. Even that wasn’t enough, although mother

Growing up school wasn’t easy for me either, I tended to be tormented for how reserved I was towards other people and would always keep to myself. It was no different at home, you see my brothers loved to spend time with each other, but would never want to include me, they’d go out of their way to bully, torment, and since my mother was never really home till about midnight occasionally even abuse me. So as you can imagine I grew up isolated with a constantly working mother who was completely oblivious to everything that occurred at home and two brothers who genuinely resented me for it believing it was my fault mother was always gone… There were times when I’d try to read my problems away, but even in my land of books… I’d get to see mothers tucking their children to sleep, rocking their baby to sleep, and sometimes kissing their little boy goodnight; but it never really worked due to the fact that I just happened to remind myself about how I was destined to be the rejected outcast amongst any group I happen to find myself in. At age seven my mother had me sent to a neurologist because she would frequently catch me rocking myself to sleep and insisted something was wrong with

I never really told my mother the actual reason why I would do that, I wanted to feel the feeling, the sensation of actually being held and rocked but I soon grew out of that. I have always referred to my youngest of years as a time period where I never really lived. I imply this because I had always believed since the age of four to five that I had no purpose in this world, that I was nothing but a burden to others, and I loathed just the thought of myself. It wasn’t until I was twelve years old that everything completely changed, I had discovered something that completely changed my life. The Piano was my escape I began to learn how to play piano at school, I’d stay every day after school just to get a chance to play several keys. The more I played the better I felt, it was as if with every chord id play a chunk of the darkness that surrounded me would deteriorate. The piano was my only friend at the time but as I played and composed my own miniscule pieces I began to realize that as long as music was in my life I could freely express myself without saying any