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 am, I'm only 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. They spend their weekends partying and i sit in the dark, fearing what might happen if i lose my mom too.
Am i weird Pete? I didn't wish to be like this. Why do they not 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 the letter i wrote, sleep wasn't gravious enough to greet me. I was tired. I laid with my eyes wide open,
for a minute,
for another couple of minutes,
for an hour,
for some more hours.
And then I don't remember anything.
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 often dreamt of my father. When it wasn't him, 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 just as much. That is what kills me. I get desperate. Mom being around doesn't help. She seems to have lost control. She seems to have forgotten that she has a son to look after. It was, instead, the opposite.
But 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.