I still remember when read the sentence that said,
“Blessed are the pure at heart, for they shall see God,” and it made me angry.
It made me angry ´cause it didn´t seem fair.
I didn´t believe that, “pure at heart” was possible for somebody like me – somebody who´s heart had been soiled from the beginning. You see, the first time I touched myself improperly was at the innocent age of three, and contrary to popular belief about these things I don´t recall being abused or learning it on a screen. Even before I reached the age of four, thinking the unthinkable came natural to me.
Now, in my young mind of thoughts my parents´ threatening was reason enough to stop, but because I knew I liked it all I really learned was that I had to hide it. So by the active age of six I was what you could call an “addict.” Of course, I didn´t know that and neither did anyone else and I spent over a decade of life on myself and I wasn’t even old enough to know to ask for help.
I knew it was wrong, but I didn´t know why – all I knew is that it lulled me to sleep when I became too tired to cry. It became that magic trap door that opened in the floor when I didn´t want to think anymore, and for the next few years it was the way I soared with my mind and image in complete disaccord.
Then coming to the tweenager age of twelve my curiosity got the best of me and for the very first time I looked at pornography. All on my lonesome I opened up the port hole to the hell that would become my home.
Being completely honest, seeing those images so very bare that seemed to come out of nowhere really did give me a scare and make my conscious twitch. So I decided I wanted to forget it, but we all know I never did. Little by little my curiosity craved more and my mind became like that of a whore.
The things that went on inside my mind would take grown men by surprise – as a matter of fact it did when they would find out I was only fourteen after having talked to them. Then they taught me how to cyber in order to get my fix, so I soon stopped letting them know that I was really a kid. The internet became the world in which I hid where I lied about my age and everything I did. It then became hard to have real friends without privately and silently always undressing them. It was hard to have friends without wanting to screw them. I began to avoid anything that could be referred to as “him” in order not to add them to my automatic naked autopilot playlist – I felt guilty for mentally taking advantage of them.
I didn´t believe that, “pure at heart” was possible for somebody like me – somebody who´s heart had been soiled from the beginning. You see, the first time I touched myself improperly was at the innocent age of three, and contrary to popular belief about these things I don´t recall being abused or learning it on a screen. Even before I reached the age of four, thinking the unthinkable came natural to me.
Now, in my young mind of thoughts my parents´ threatening was reason enough to stop, but because I knew I liked it all I really learned was that I had to hide it. So by the active age of six I was what you could call an “addict.” Of course, I didn´t know that and neither did anyone else and I spent over a decade of life on myself and I wasn’t even old enough to know to ask for help.
I knew it was wrong, but I didn´t know why – all I knew is that it lulled me to sleep when I became too tired to cry. It became that magic trap door that opened in the floor when I didn´t want to think anymore, and for the next few years it was the way I soared with my mind and image in complete disaccord.
Then coming to the tweenager age of twelve my curiosity got the best of me and for the very first time I looked at pornography. All on my lonesome I opened up the port hole to the hell that would become my home.
Being completely honest, seeing those images so very bare that seemed to come out of nowhere really did give me a scare and make my conscious twitch. So I decided I wanted to forget it, but we all know I never did. Little by little my curiosity craved more and my mind became like that of a whore.
The things that went on inside my mind would take grown men by surprise – as a matter of fact it did when they would find out I was only fourteen after having talked to them. Then they taught me how to cyber in order to get my fix, so I soon stopped letting them know that I was really a kid. The internet became the world in which I hid where I lied about my age and everything I did. It then became hard to have real friends without privately and silently always undressing them. It was hard to have friends without wanting to screw them. I began to avoid anything that could be referred to as “him” in order not to add them to my automatic naked autopilot playlist – I felt guilty for mentally taking advantage of them.
When I finally came to the
realization of being oh so very twisted I was to the point where I couldn´t
help it, but I still couldn´t see that I was an addict – a realization I came
upon when I finally tried to quit. It felt like a monster had taken control of
me and I had no idea how to make it let me be. For years it was hard to even
try to sleep without it and what made me even angrier about it was that I
suffered silently and didn´t allow myself to shout it. Actually trying to quit
made me feel worse than when I was actually doing it.
It´s a sad day when you finally see that
curiosity has taken you over oh so completely that you can´t even think
straight, and what´s even worse is the feeling that it´s too late to take it
all back. Opening your eyes and everything seems to be suddenly off track. The
cold realization that everything has fallen through the cracks and you don´t
know who you are anymore. Knowing that you have the riches of the poor, but no
one would actually think to call you “pure.” The sad fact that you caused your
own self to mourn, but “no, never again pure.” You know that you are humiliated
and hungry, yet oh so very dirty.
I honestly thought that no one could ever fix me – I was about as damaged as anyone could ever be, so far gone that I wasn´t even worth touching, and so messed up that I was beyond healing.
I honestly thought that no one could ever fix me – I was about as damaged as anyone could ever be, so far gone that I wasn´t even worth touching, and so messed up that I was beyond healing.
Now, here´s where it gets interesting: did you know that gold is not pure in its original state? A fact that only heat can change. When we all first come through the gate we are not only innocent, but also soiled to begin with. So while pure may not be the reality with which we begin we cannot lose hope about the state in which we end.
Awesome. Thanks for the poetry.
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