Troubled Child

Here are few questions for you all. Do you ever remember the times you’ve gotten into trouble? As a child? Teenager? Hell, even now as an adult?

Do you remember those times that you got into trouble, was it something that had actual reasons for you to get lectured at or have something taken away or just something? Have you ever sat down and thought, perhaps I do deserve this, I did something wrong and need to be corrected or learn a lesson?

I don't always remember what exactly I would do or things that were pointed at me by others that would get me into trouble and when that would happen I would start to think, was I always a troubled child? Or did everyone around me make me feel a troubled child?

Back to elementary, I would always be sent to the office for no reasons- well on rare occasions there was a reason- and back at home I would get into trouble for one of my older siblings fault. So, to do my best at avoiding getting into something I started doing things as I was told, tired getting things done on time, arriving either before or right on time and I'd always sat wherever I was quietly. I always went and sat at the same place, time, always sat quietly where I could be seen doing nothing else but my usual reading and coloring or always lost in thoughts. Cause what else could one do to as "good behavior"?

That's when I'd randomly start to think about everything, I'd people watch, and always wonder, how does one know from right or wrong? How do you know that you're doing something that’s supposed to be “nice” or right but it’s actually so wrong? Or the other way around? Does that mean that all the things I’ve done could have possibly been wrong in some way all this time? Who knows, its too late to think about that now, I can only think about what I do from now on, right?

In elementary on the other hand, as much as I had tried to keep from the trouble doing all that I could, I also began to get sick and tired of being blamed for others deeds so, if I’m going to be known as the “Troubled Child” might as well act on it right?

Oh, best believe your kind story teller became quite the menace. AT first, it was just small things here and there, nothing truly fancy just the casual push, pinch, smack, you know just the small things. Once, when I was bored I pretended to tip over on someone's foot and oh yea that got a laugh out of them, so you know what I did? Have you ever seen the movie Salt Lake City Punk? — great film I recommend — when Stevo introduces Mike? and Mike grabs that one kid and slams him into the wall? Well yours truly did something similar—but instead of it being a wall it was more of a chained fence. Other times with the kids that would call me names I began to fight back with, I’d push, shove, smack them, behind and away from the adults eyes some would run away crying, or some of them would fight back but them team up against me. That’s when I started slowly feeling that feeling I didn’t know what it was, but I could always feel it.

That was the second time I had a blackout, and again woke up in the office. Who knew what had happened that time because I honestly didn’t have enough energy to remember that day or bother. I think it was that feeling that had helped me keep up or surpass my bullies, they were always surprised, at the fact that whatever they did to me or pain they wanted to cause wouldn’t affect me the way they wanted. They wanted to see me cry again, after only making me cry the very first time, but instead it would be them that would be crying. It was about time after having dealt with 6 years of bullying from kinder to 5th grade, it made me stronger and the start of being emotionally numb or distant. If I was going to be what they wanted me to be, oh I became it alright, and I became good at it, it was almost fun, I even became good at it that I even stopped getting into trouble for it, after to many kids complaining about me, the adults started thinking differently and I was finally left alone.

Who knew that becoming the “troubled child’’ would work best in my favor at the end. This child-sh trouble was only the beginning of what trouble was to come, along with that feeling that grew. If only one can know how Rage is a quiet thing.

•