I always felt so sorry for my grandmother when I thought about someone's life. She could hardly read or write. At a young age, she was married to my grandfather by her father. A man she'd never seen, who didn't love her.

Both were victims of old traditions, but the weaker and clumsy part had to endure even more suffering. As far back as I could remember, she almost never left the house. Her back was so bent that she could only walk with the help of crutches. She cooked, sewed, washed the clothes. Her only son was my father, who yelled at her when she used the water too sparingly. Then she died in a sick bed when she fell and broke her arm once. I couldn't be with her. But at that time in my childhood she was the only person who wouldn't yell at me, gently comb my hair, and play with me at home. She had endured so much and what had she got in her life?I didn't understand any of this at the time. I also didn't understand why my grandfather and especially my father yelled at me like that, threatened to beat me and sometimes actually did it. Why my grandmother and mother didn't come to my aid with this, even though I was so scared, felt so helpless and desperate.

I hated my father and grandfather because, as the stronger, they could get their way through force. In their rush of power they tolerated no contradiction, no thoughts of their own. But I also hated my mother and grandmother because they were too weak to defend themselves against injustice or to protect other people they supposedly loved.

I realized quite early that I was alone in this world and had to fight to survive. I couldn't hope for outside help, not even from my closest relatives. They were once forced to be different from what they actually were, to bow to the more powerful and to give up their own will.So now they tried the same thing with me. But they shouldn't succeed with that. Not with me. Inside I felt this tremendous anger that could drive me to risk my own life to resist.

I've always been considered a very difficult child. At home I was yelled at for listening to radio thriller instead of studying, for illicit painting (my school books were full of my drawings), for looking uninhibited while eating and for constantly breaking the strict house rules. At school, the teachers punished me for forgetting little things, talking to the people sitting next to me and being late once in three years. Then there were these boys who annoyed me in different ways every day. I passed on my anger by torturing a poor helpless classmate of mine. Later I heard that she wanted to take revenge on me, but luckily I had moved to another city by then ...

In my childhood there were only a very small number of things that comforted me.Every little human affection I had burned into my memory. Most of them would not have even noticed such little things. I drew and imagined my own world. The world I would have liked to live in. I enjoyed hearing stories and reading for my life. Immersed in the world of narration, I then no longer perceived anything of the world that actually surrounded me. Unfortunately, I got my hands on little that was legible. That is why an old universal dictionary for adults that I hardly understood was already exciting. The unknown in it fascinated me.

At another elementary school I fought with the boys and was mostly able to assert myself successfully, although the kicks in the shin gave me thick bruises, which then hurt for a long time.

Most of the time I was marginalized in class. I was considered weird and when I focused on my grades, I embodied the repulsive nerd in person.For some time I tried to improve my image by barely using expressions (although I needed it badly), behaving in a friendly and artificial way instead of being aggressive and natural, and giving up the brawls entirely (I preferred to blow my pillow instead). I also ran after the last idiot to beg for a piece of friendship. I didn't know this word (friendship) until then and because everyone had touted it so highly, I thought it must be something really great and of course I didn't want to miss it.

I'd rather not talk about the result. In summary, one could say that I perhaps had more fun in the brawls than listening to the same girls' sayings every day and even joining in. (Which one ?!) Disappointingly, little of what I had previously hoped for had reached me.

Okay ... I made a compromise with myself and distanced myself from the people around me.Yami, I couldn't understand the people around me. Just as little as they understood me. Why do I feel and see things differently? Why were my actions just unpredictable? Why did I always have the feeling of standing between two sharp blades and unable to move forward or backward?

When I lived with my aunt, I initially shared the room with my older cousin. Sometimes he would pull the bathroom door open when I washed in it. I complained, but my aunt and the others just laughed about it. I shouldn't pretend I'm special and have a right to secrecy. Back then, my cousin was playing a game with me that I didn't understand. I was a chicken he ate. So I had to take off my clothes and lie on my stomach. He even gave me a comic to read. I wasn't used to such touching friendliness and generosity on his part. He examined me and touched me on all sides while I was distracted.On a full moon night, he even took me to his bed. I don't know what happened then because I fell asleep pretty quickly.

The next day my aunt noticed us and I was put in a small room (former kitchen). When I remembered what had happened back then, my hair stood on end. Because after a long time a lot became clearer to me.

Every time I moved to a different city, to a different person, my previous past was buried. When I arrived in a new place, nobody knew my background. I could then start a new life if I wanted to. Each time I had resolved in different ways never to repeat the painful memories again. But no matter how I tried and pretended, I couldn't erase the past. They stayed sealed in my memory forever. They had become a part of my life.

Then I tried to make peace with my past.I tried to look at the events in a different light and to emphasize the beautiful and the non-recurring. But it only made me sad. I painfully realized that I had missed so many opportunities in my life to enjoy the moment of brief happiness. I felt sorry for my blindness and ignorance. I envied the people who didn't have all of my problems and who had apparently enjoyed a lot more happiness and contentment throughout their lives. I doubted my fate and looked for answers. Why did I have to go through so many wrong turns to finally arrive at such simple insights into life?

Yami, I've come too far to go back now.

It might sound stupid and ridiculous, but I feel like I want to protect you, Yami. When you looked sad and bitter, I no longer felt my own suffering, just an inner urge to hug you and comfort you.I want to endure your suffering and see you smile, Yami. Even if I collapse under the burden of pain, I want to continue my long journey for you.

...

"Your eyes, they are the gates to a mysterious world of darkness."

"And we are the fallen angels who live in it."

"Will people ever find out about our existence?"

"I don't think so. You won't see us ... You only see yourself and the others who are like you."

"You're right ... but where are we going?"

"We fly through the vastness of the universe. If one day we reached the other end, then we would assume our original forms again."

"You mean ... we will be reborn then?"

"Yes ... we will then be reborn and finally be able to forget our past."

"Thank you for accompanying me on this trip."

"Yes, we will stay together forever and no longer be afraid of the dark."END

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Dear people who have come this far: I hope you enjoyed my first story here. Let me know if you thought something was good or bad. Would be really happy.

Goodbye & see you soon
by LoveYami