Many of us face different types of struggles in life. Some financially, some emotionally, some mentally and yes even some sexually. sometimes, its more than just a struggle. It can be a war. A living hell. Somethings cant be explained, even when you can see the damage take a toll on your friends. Maybe even your family, your significant other or even yourself. The only difference, is some people who are affected by it cant see it themselves and are led to believe its their fault. It’s a feeling than can not be controlled. Maybe kept under watch. But it’s an inner demon that’s hell bent on destroying you from the inside out. A darkness that swallows you whole. An endless pit that makes you feel as though you are nothing, worthless how you’ll never amount to anything nor be loved by anyone. The love of your life can be completely devoted to you, and somehow you’ll still feel as though she wants and deserves better. So it eats you slowly. Creating confusion, anger, sorrow, fear, frustration. Leading to more, swirling together as though it was mixing a recipe that forms into unstable pain. From your heart, to your soul, to your body. The darkness is the human hearts greatest enemy. It can even get to the point where it can kill you.
It might be easier to explain if i shared my story to the world. So that maybe, just maybe it can help save someone from their demons. I’ve had many nicknames along the road on this adventurous life. Jorgie, Jorgito, gochino, Jo-Jo, Godfather, Damien, Jay. But i will forever remember myself, as the bastard Jorge. It may be a little difficult to explain what has happened in my life while dealing with this internal struggle. So i hope you can bare with me. And i’ll try and make this quick without sugar coating anything and hopefuly get my main point across.
I was born on labor day, september 7th, 1992. In Berwyn Illinois. From what i remember correctly, the ones in the room with my mother were my grandmother, and my aunts i believe. My father, knowing his first born son was being born, decided to spend that moment drinking at the bar with his friends. My mother originally wanted me born as ‘Damien Louis Spohn’. Umfortunately, my father being the man he is, wanted his child named after him. So i was born Jorge Contreras.
Now, with my memory being a little fuzzy at that young age, i can still remember moments from that time period. However, not many of them were joyful. My father would rather spend time with booze instead of the woman he got pregnant and his son who, for some ungodly known reason, looked up to him. My first memory of those days, my father comes home late one night. My mother, the hard working saint that she is, did not have time to cook dinner that night. He was not a very happy man. I cant remember what exactly was being said, but i can remember the anger from his voice. That chilling fearing vibe that came from his hate. My mother trying to apologize, yet angry with him for spending all of their money on alcohol, he broke the glass kitchen table with his fist. I remember seeing the droplets of blood on the floor leading to the bathroom. My mother crying, and me not understanding the full situation, i walk into the bathroom where my father was showering. I Remember asking him if he was ok. He brushed me off and told me to get the hell out. I was only a child, concerned with his fathers well being.
As time went by, all i could remember was my fathers anger. All of the yelling, the fighting and alcoholism. My mother being lost and scared, i tried to ignore it all by playing my old sper nintendo. But even though my eyes were on that screen, my ears were open to what was going on around me. One day, i suppose my mother had enough. I saw my dather packing stuff in his car. And i ran across the street, asking, “Papi, where you going?” I asked if i could go with him. After that, i dont remember. What i do remember is that it became more deifficult for my mother and I. We left that apartment. My mother and i found an apartment in lyons Illinois. She had to work alot. I was either at school, or with a babysitter. The only time i saw her was late at night. We would watch t.v. together, She would read me a bedtime story, She was trying to provide for her child, while struggling to even see him.
My father, every now and then, would pick me up for a weekend. The only thing was, i dont believe it was father son time. He needed an outlet for his drunken rage moments. I became his punching bag that stayed quiet. Now i’m sure a lot of people would ask, “Why didn’t you tell someone?” The answer was quite simple. I knew who he was, and what he was capable of. So i feared him as though he was the devil himself. I took my bruises, took my lumps and stayed quiet. And like a scared little fool, who barely saw his mother, rarely his father, I only wanted My parents. Over time, my father created something inside of me that would lead to a series of events that would become the the road i walk now, and the person i am today.
My mother met a man at her job. A good man. One who actually gave a damn about her and her safety. To even accept the fact that she had a pre-started family. Now i know i wasn’t an easy child to get along with. And this man was new. But i saw how my mom would smile. And she asked me one day if it was alright that he became a part of our lives. I told her yes, because i want her to be happy. Now being young, going through some events to be able to tell when someone makes another human happy instead of being scared they’d be taken away, is just questioning what the child has seen before he even hit the age of 7. By that age, my mother told me to pray to god, for a sister or a brother. I remember i was so excited about that, i prayed as hard as i could. Asking God to give me a little brother to play walkie talkies with, or soldier or pokemon. Or even a sister, i just want a friend.
November 20th, 1999. A beautiful baby girl was born. My baby sister. My Alyssa. My kiddo. But of course, as time went by, This man would seem like he started to change. And i began to feel ignored. Different. Unwanted. As though i was a ghost. Now that i’m older i understand why my mothers attention would be focus on a new born, a potential new husband and her job. Now she did not make a lot. She was a waitress. But a damn good hard working one at that. They both worked hard, and got us away from the city. We moved into a suburb. About almost an hour drive away. That’s where i met my first, best friend. As my sister grew, He and I had great times together. We laughed, rode bikes, played soldier and spent the night at each others homes playing video games and watching silly movies. But i wasn’t always happy. As a matter of fact, i was the opposite. Something was stirring inside of me. A conflict I’ve never experienced. Something i couldn’t understand.
As time passed, I still visited my father when he did make good on his word. Because i had hopes that i can still have a father. My step father and I, never really saw eye to eye. His focus was on his daughter. My mothers focus, was keeping her husband and raising her daughter. Making sure her family can get by in a one story house in a nice neighborhood. I pushed away my step father, because i still had hopes for mine. But instead of a father, who would teach me how to catch, how to dress, guidance through tough times or even just how to be a man in general. But it was always the same thing. ‘I love you mijo.’ over the phone became something dark. One day, I remember very clearly. He was drinking with his friends in the apartment, Still living around the Berwyn and Cicero area. I remember he was yelling, laughing with mariachi music i the background. As time went by that night, his voice became angrier. When everyone went home, that’s when i would see the devil in a human body. He yelled at me, calling me a crying bitch, a faggot, a fat idiot. He would even go as far as choke me and disown me. He threw me into the room with all the lights off. Just before slamming that door shut, he threatened to give me a reason to cry if i didn’t stop.
That room, that dark room, where i could not see anything, became what is in my chest to this day. My abyss of darkness and sorrow. This was all before i hit the age of ten. I began to have nightmares, causing my body to preform embarrassing acts. I always use to think that i would never speak of those moments. But i have to accept everything that’s happened in my life. I ended up wetting the bed at night, while i was dreaming of my father yelling at me and hurting me. To piss yourself until you’re thirteen can be a lot more embarrassing when you’re the one going through it. You don’t want you’re friends to find out. You’re family crack jokes, of course not meaning anything by it, but still affecting you. It created a form of humility. By than i was already using food as an escape. I became overweight. And that would become another downfall of mine. One to last all the way through high school. But that’s just a bit later on. There’s still so much more along this road of mine. My fathers and my relationship escalated as i grew over the years. I just learned how to fake a smile and laugh so that i can see my friends and my mother happy. They didn’t need to worry about me. Who would listen to a fat loser like me. But even a fat loser like me still found friends. Even a fat loser like me can still fall in love.
Every night would be the same. Awkward around my step-father, mom avoiding the fights her son and husband had. The daughter being raised to become the golden child of the family. Whilst i became the black sheep. I’d always leave my t.v. on because the background noise would help me sleep. It would make me feel like i wasn’t alone. I was quiet enough so no one could hear me cry to sleep. Talking to god asking him, ‘Whats wrong with me. Are you there? I need your help. Please?’ yet there was no answer. And my chest began to turn into that dark empty and lonely feeling. As though there was a tiny anchor tied to it pulling it straight into a blackhole. When i would finally fall asleep, i could see and hear him. As though it was real. I created an imaginary friend, to spend those cold nights with me. I called him stitches. Because i didn’t want to hurt alone. So at times, i would talk to myself. And he would become more and more real to me. But knowing who i grew up with in my life, they would all think im crazy. Maybe make fun of me again. As i grew, so did those thoughts. Those thoughts became the words stitches spoke.
“You’re fuckin pathetic, You’ll always be your fathers son. youre worthless. You’ll never be anyone, even your mommy doesnt love you. Look! She won’t even protect you against that jerk, And thats because no one wants you. Your friends only hang out with you because their parents told them too. No one will ever like you you fat fuck.” He would even speak to me about the women i would like. How they would just use me. More and more, it grew. It never eased up. I started to become more angry. And it would be taken out on my own family. I did not know what was wrong with me. But as always, i do what i was told. ‘Just shut up and deal with it.’ Or ‘Grow some balls you fuckin pussy!’ After the summer before i attended middle school, was a major turning point in my life.
My father talked to my mother about taking a vacation to see our family in mexico. I though, ‘WOW! My daddy wants to spend THAT much time with me?!? Maybe he does love me.’ And as always, i was wrong. I remember it was damn near the same thing, though my mind is still foggy. Some things you just end up blurring out. Because you just need to forget. One night, nothing new, he went to drink in the city. I was worried, i didnt know where he was or what happened. I went everywhere asking my uncle if he knew where my father was. He found him later that night. I saw them walking down the street. My father stumbling. My uncle caring him. He told me father, “George, He’s just worried about you. He’s your son.”
“No, i have no son!” You think after hearing that enough you’d get use to it. But something about that moment, felt worse than any other time before. With, tears in my eyes, and stitches screaming in my ear, i ran. My fatass ran. Tears flowing, all of the memories and voices coming back at once. The pain in my chest spread like never before. That anchoring weight getting more and more heavy. The darkness clouding my vision. My body knew when it ran against a hill, but my eyes saw nothing but an endless void. An invisible floor that my feet could touch, but i was going anywhere. Just running in place. I stopped at a canal and broke down. Burying my face into my knees. Punching myself, wanting to scream, eyes shut tightly feeling like they were glued shut. I yelled for someone to come save me. After that…I can’t remember. But if there was anyone i could rely on to make me feel better, it was my best friend Dallas.
Now Dallas wasn’t a person or place, she was a beautiful and lovable golden retriever that stayed at my grandmothers. We always considered her MY dog. She was the only one to make me feel like someone else was there. When i would lay down on the cot in the living room, Dal would walk up to me, put her head on my hand, and i would pet her until we both fell asleep. When she was there, it was like the darkness slowly evaporated away showing me a beautifully colored world. She gave me real smiles. If she sensed a threat against me, she would stand in front of me as though she was saying, ‘Try touching him mother fucker.’ I loved her. And for once, i could feel someone loved me. Just thinking about her is bringing tears to my eyes. I’m wanting to burst in tears as i type thinking about my oldest and best friend. When she was just a puppy, and i was just an infant, my mother would visit my grandmother in forest park and she put me in a little play pen with that cute little puppy. That is the oldest memory i have, and luckily the best one. She was my pup Dal. And i was her best friend. She could sense when i hurt, and she would take away the pain.
When i came back from mexico with my father, that all changed. My aunt had told me, that my best friend had passed away. I didn’t believe her, yet there i was. Shocked in silence. I cant remember how long it took for me to speak again. When i found out what had happened, and i saw the photos, it all hit me like a goddamn train. And it all came pouring out. My faith in god already questioned, now completely gone. Someone took my best friend away from me. And i could never forgive them. I never saw that beautifully colored world again. And there he was, Stitches, whispering those words to me. Of how god took her, because he hates me. I never thought the darkness could grow more. But it did. When Dallas was taken from me, a huge piece of my humanity was taken with her. A huge chunck of my heart slowly cut of me with a rusty blade. A chunk i could never get back. She will always have my best memories. I miss her. And i always will.
I began finding solace in other ways. I started writing, letting my imagination run wild. Trying to think of adventures or a life far better than the one i lived. They were my escape, my plane ticket away from reality. I wrote stories. Stories of WWII, future soldiers, vampires, warewolves, the apocalypse, monsters and demons. Always stories about fighting back. But even writing couldn’t fully help. I still carried that burden, that unknowing feeling that i still couldn’t understand. In middle school, i met some new friends. The ones that would give you the greatest memories of your life. I started doing terrible at school. I slacked off of assignments, didnt do the homework hell i just didn’t give a damn. With no religion, my best friend gone, the darkness growing and fights at home i saw education as nothing to me. That it was more important to laugh and smile and to just be happy. I didn’t think of the toll it would take on my future. My step father and i got worse. My father, nothing changing except the fact that i was getting older. It even began affecting my mother emotionally. I couldnt see that. Because all i could see was anger towards my step-father, envy towards my sister, fear of my father and even neglect from my mother. Though it is not her fault and she does love me. That part i understand so much more. I tried playing a few sports throughout my middle school years. I was never any good. Hell i didnt even like sports. The only reason i did it, was in hopes id have a father to cheer me on at my games. That was the only reason. He never showed up. How, after so many years and moments of terror would i expect my father to finally show me love and acknowledgement? Simply because i was a damn fool with hope. Hope that everything will change. He never did. And i only grew with more conflict.
Hitting into high school years, my friends and I became inseparable. We had our own little group of under dogs. It really did seem like a rag tag group or nerds and goofballs. I would skip school to go hang out with them when they were sick, or just didnt want to go. Now they wernt bad kids or bad influences, they were actually really smart. I mean, we had the rocker kid who was the youngest yet the tallest. Than we had the big italian guy who could make anyone laugh in any situation, we had the asian kid who was just full of spunk and did impersonations of his own race. Hell he’d threaten to eat our dogs. Yeah he was that kind of guy. We had the indian kid who loved Anime and focused on his future. The one that hold sleepovers in his big ass home. My cousin, the emo style kid who has the best sense of sarcasm. And than me, just the lovable goofball who always wanted to get everyone together and just have fun. those are memories that last a lifetime. We wern’t the ones who were all preppy and loved parties and mainstream b.s. We wern’t meant to fit in with everyone else. We were meant to just be us. God the things we got into. Fireworks on the neighbors fences, keeping our parents up at late hours, or even tossing a Molotov into an open abandon piece of land. Freestyles, video games, wrestling you name it we probably did it. But as always, high school are the years that change you and everyone else around you.
That was the first time i fell in love as well. I wont get too deep into that. But lets just say, even the closest people can find a way to break your heart. People you thought you could trust. People you never knew would lie to you. I never dated before i mean, who wanted to date the fat kid? Who would like that kid? Well, i found out what had happened, and i lost trust in the closest person to me. None of us thought something like this would happen. Luckily they were the right friends who would be there to comfort me. The friends to see me cry, and comfort me. Was the closest ive felt to not being alone in the longest time.
Again, with school just did not give a damn. Not at all. I started to lose my interest in writing, Because after my first heartbreak, i began feeling even lonelier, heavier, angrier to the point where there was literally not a moments peace. I havnt slept right in years and not having a parent to talk to about relationship advice and friends who wernt exactly sure what to do in that situation i found something else. That’s when i smoked my first joint. I remember it too.
I was frustrated just walking, ended up walking past one of my friends homes and he knew the recent love breaking situation he offered me a couple hits. That feeling starting behind my eyes, my mind slowly feeling like it was easing, my chest not so empty. Hell even my gut stopped hurting. I bagen to think more clear, and started to forget everything. My mind was swarming with all kinda of hell and memories. It was silent. I could see straight. And i can feel human again. I was alive for the first time in a long time. So every now and than, i would smoke whenever possible. And my pain would go away for that time being. I was able to sleep more. Now when i was sober everything would be there, but it was manageable. I did my best to keep it away from home. Id sneak out of my window at night and walk to my friends house. Than sneak back in later. Hell, i needed the sleep. I needed peace in my life. Although i found a way to begin battling my unknown demon, i still didnt understand why. Smoking weed actually helped. Not financially but something more important. My imagination began moving again. I started to freestyle out my pain and anger. Now i wasn’t talented at rapping thats a guarantee, but my friends saw it was real. The pain, the anger. My only issue was just timing my words with my rhythm.
I had another enemy, another addiction besides food. To be honest i cant exactly remember when it started. But that feeling of tobacco smoke going into your body gave this weird little kick in your chest that sent a vibe throughout your body. I’m angry, cigarette. I’m just waking up still really tired, cigarette. I can’t sleep and the thoughts are alive, cigarette. I wish i never picked up that damn habit. Because i became a heavy smoker. And overtime would start affecting my body and health. I didn’t care. We’re all addicted to something that takes the pain away. Even if it was a brief moment. That brief moment could make a huge difference. Like you wouldn’t believe. Only those who even remotely feel the way i do can understand, that it can not be explained. But it’s as though it becomes needed. A necessity. That quiet cancer. In exchange for just one more day with less pain. To make a day tolerable. Just tolerable. Now that was a huge damage into my family’s financial life.
My anger towards my step father become a reason to steal from him. I figured, “If you want to put me through this shit, than you’re gonna pay for my habit.” God i hated him. Always thought i was lying up to no good. If you put someone down they will want to give you a reason to think of them in that way that you have pushed onto them. I didn’t think how it would affect my mother. And for that i can never forgive myself. I was too blinded by my own anger. To not see how everything you do affects people around you can either go two ways. One, You need to take a step back and question your motive. Or two, your anger will consume you and leave you completely blind to other possibilities. It consumed me.
In the first three years of high school, everybody began changing. Friends started to become acquaintances. Memories become torture of times you would give anything to re live. You become more lonely. Of course the weed helped, but it can’t do everything for you. The pain won’t fully go away. Stitches just a voice in my head. The darkness continuing to grow. The world around me, as dark and empty as ever. The fights at home finally became, a time to leave. And as usual, i decided to give my father another chance. So i moved back towards Berwyn. And with no friends, and no one to talk to. It was just seeing my father drink, my father angry, my fathers fists and a hint into my fathers past.
Now we had family members who chose a certain life. And them being there i was finally introduced to them. Only about seventeen or eighteen, and i was drinking heavily and got into a serious addiction for cocaine. Just like the weed, i kept that quiet. It felt like the same day everyday. But i must have stayed for almost half a year or just over. I remember that one night, where i would see nothing but blurs, and my fathers voice echo. Paramedics trying to carry me to the ambulance. My father trying to convince me that if they asked any questions dont tell them ive been drinking or that he knows. I guess his citizenship was abit more important than his sons health. I guess his DUI’s didn’t say enough about it already. When i came to in the hospital bed, i asked the Doctor not to mention the cocaine. And that i was done. I was too close to death. But that wasn’t the first time. My mother came with my sister when they had heard i was in the hospital. One of the main causes of that night was dehydration and a horrible diet. I was prescribed medication and spent the day with my mother for abit. My aunt living in forest park, not too far away thought it would be a good idea to offer abit of sanctuary.
She invited me over one night and we relaxed joked around and played video games. It was nice. I think we went for mcdonalds that morning. She told me if anything were to happen again, call her. She is just the next town over. I went back to that place after we ate. It was morning still. Just barely afternoon. There he was, drinking with friends. Didn’t even ask if i was ok. As though nothing ever happened. I was tired but they wouldnt let me sleep. One guy was so drunk out of his, my father literally grabbed him by the loop of his jeans and dragged his ass out of the apartment. Hell i still remember seeing that guys head clunking up hard steps from the basement to the cold outside. He never woke up. How much do you need to drink to not wake up from all of that. I went to lay down on my futon but there was blood, broken wood from underneath, glass and one of my shirts ripped and stained. I guess one of the guys were so drunk they got hurt. Yeah go ahead and destroy all my crap in some drunk guys blood. Whatever.
Later that night, my father was still drinking. A roommate of his, Guero, might have just saved my life. Now what im about to say, is nothing new to what has been done over the years. He was so angry, for no reason. He called my mother yelling at her over the phone.
“WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SON?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM?! IS HE STUPID?!” Blah blah blah more angry drunk espanol. The ironic part is she didn’t have to do anything. It was him causing the damage. And me letting it take over most of my life. Later, he began yelling at me. Talking about his past as a gang member. For obvious reasons i can’t and refuse to say who. Many will understand why, and no reason for this choice to be justified. He grabbed one of the kitchen blades, ran up to me, grabbed me by my dick and put the blade to my neck. Threatening to kill me, claiming he has no problem doing it. Asking me if i thought i was better than him, more important. And if i wanted to hit him go ahead and fight back. But i wasn’t seventeen, i was seven in that moment. And i froze. But i heard his voice. Stitches whispering in my ear. That this was my chance to end it. So i can sleep. Doesn’t that sound nice? The bad guy finally loses. Kill him when you get the chance. Guero came and pulled the blade away slowly trying to calm down my father. I can still feel his grip on me. When i saw him turn around, That;s when i heard stitches scream at me. Like it was right in my ear. That voice so, dark and sinister with this sort of sadistic joy in his words. KILL HIM NOW! TAKE THE KNIFE, STAB HIM CUT HIS THROAT BREAK HIS FUCKING NECK SHOW THIS MOTHER FUCKER A REAL DEMON!
That’s when everything stopped. Thinking how crazy am i? Am i even human anymore? But i want to. I want to stop him so bad. I can do it…why won’t i though? Time stopped. And it felt as though i was questioning everything about myself. With nothing positive. A flash of my life up to that moment. It was unsettling. Disturbing. But when i snapped out of it. I just continued. And as usual, all of the darkness continued to spread. More than i thought possible. Proves me wrong every time.
I went back towards my mothers and began working. I learned how to drive, made my own money for abit and decided to spend it on my car and my fun. Not thinking of anything else. Tried to just do me and avoid everything else. Because i was tired of dealing with everything. But as usual, nothing changed at home. I eventually screwed up, lived out of my car, got it repossessed. I move around alot. Town to town, Indiana and back. Still not really caring about myself. Kind of gave up on that. Gave up on myself. Still drank and smoke. One year, i finally moved back to Illinois from Indiana. I met someone. She became my second love.
Now this was abit difficult and i am not going to get into it. I remember our first kiss. We were sending cute little text messages to each other, and we are sitting next to each other in the front seat of her car. She texted me, ‘Would it be ok if i kiss you?’ I leaned towards her and kissed her. And it did something i have never felt before. The kiss that took away the pain. Now i did love before, but not like this. This would become my first serious relationship. And my most heartbreaking. Because this was new to me and i still had no idea with what i was dealing with, i couldn’t control my fear of losing the one person who took away all the pain. Goddamn we had alot of adventures and memories between us. Through her i met one of her relatives who would become my brother to this day. We had trust issues with each other and i was a paranoid fool. I drove her away. Not once, but twice. The second time, forced her and i to become different people and to end what felt like my last hope. I left her mothers house because the thought of seeing her with another man would kill me. More than us saying goodbye. I walked around alot, tried to find work and ended up staying with one of my cousins for abit. He was on my fathers side and i rarely ever got to see that side of the family.
One day walking around, feeling as though i was disappearing bit by bit. It all came swarming back in one huge hit. Especially after an argument with my ex. Not to defend myself of course but merely saying this as a way to understand. I just wasn’t myself when we argued. But it was what set me off. I screamed and punched the side of a gas station. I took a knife out of my pocket and put it to my wrist. Coming closer and closer. Someone had saw me punch the gas station and called the police. If it wasnt for them, i doubt i would be here. Surprising myself how many times i could come close to death and still be lucky enough to get past it. I told them, as i broke down in tears that i needed someones help. take the knife out of my pocket and keep it away. The ambulance came and took me away to a nearby hospital in order to to evaluate my state of mind. From the hospital, to a home. A Psychiatrist would let me tell him some of the crap that when on in my life and how ive felt along the way. This is where he would find out one of my demons for me. He explained how Depression can take a toll on the human mind and body. How one step could trigger or lead to something affecting something we barely have control over. Knowing that, i listened to how it worked and remembered how it would affect me throughout my life. And began to plan how i can fight back. I wasn’t there very long. Was prescribed medication and given a number in case i ever came close to it again. Than i moved again.
Closer to my mothers side of the family, i got a job at a hotel for a graveyard shift. Good money, easy job, paid for my studio apartment. As i took the medication i started to feel less and less human. Not guilty or in pain. just completely emotionless. Now you would think that’s what we want. You’re wrong. We want to feel normal like a human being. So like some others, I stayed off of them. And my feelings of being alive came back. But the one thing that didn’t go away, was that darkness. It was contained, but still not fully controlled. It still would eat away at me. I tried to bring in a friend in hopes he could help both of us move forward. But financial issues struck. I lost my apartment, took my friend back to town and lived out of my car so that i could still keep my job. Even in the winter. Feeling sick, tired, heavy and all around hopeless. But still trying to push through it all. Although it slowly built up in side of me, causing me to be trapped inside my own hell and fall asleep in tears, Most of the time, stayed awake and let them dry, I still fight. And i fight hard. But when i moved back to the town where i met my friends and my first two loves, something else happened that would change everything. The Third love.
Now i remember hearing somewhere, that you are only allowed three great women in your life. And the third was the silent kill. She worked at the local store by mymothers house. I began working at a small fast food diner just across the street. Everything was going smooth but felt like it was going nowhere. My buddy who lived across the street ask me for advice on how to talk to a woman. So i found out what he meant gave some advice and he managed not to listen as usual. When i met her, yeah i knew she was beautiful. She was foreign. Had an accent, beautiful looks, and an overwhelming generous caring personality.She was the perfect woman for any man. A pure angel, godsend from how you could describe it. She cared about me. Alot. I remember i didnt see her as more than a friend at first. But as usual thats how the best ones start. And when the saying ‘If something is too good to be true it usually is’ is very true. We cared about eachother. And i knew we saw more than other people saw. I started to get feelings. For someone who made me feel like a human. She would want to talk to me over everyone else. I would visit her as often as i could. I say that because, she was already in an arranged marriage. When i heard that, it bothered me. But i knew there was nothing i could do about it. She honors her family’s customs. And if she were to go against it, her entire family would cut her off from everything. Which is understandable regardless of what we may think. So i had to silently kill myself, as i let her slip away. I still miss talking to her. And i’ll never forget her. She became the one that got away.
An issue happened at my job where multiple were laid off. Including me. Clever managers from other stores. They know how to keep their people with no regards for the ones who have already been there trying to work and keep that place running. I couldn’t find another job in time, and once again had to leave. I tried to stay in that town, but it became too hard. I was hungry, starving and sleeping behind a dumpster eating dunkin donuts to survive. The darkness starting to become overwhelming again. Months later, an old friend from high school offered me some time and an opportunity. Only thing is, i would have to move 1700 miles from my sister and my mother. But realizing i need to start bettering myself, i took it without hesitation. And began our road trip to Arizona. He let me drive with him, and luckily i love driving. So i drove a majority of the way. Listening to music and planning. Two days later we arrive.
I saw his mom again who was always like a second mom. A home away from home. With the funniest guy i ever met. We had an agreement, and i did my best to honor it. I found a job in the next town over, unfortunately i did not start in time and had to leave their house as well. A series of unfortunate events right? But i kept my agreement. And didnt want to destroy my friendship with him. Whatever was left of it. I had a few other buddies i believed would be good to get through this part in our lives and to start creating a stable living. Unfortunately, sometimes thats how friendships are destroyed. When youre simply trying to survive. We used what we could, called in what favors we could to get a night or two at a hotel. Sometimes we got lucky enough for a week. But after our falling out, it was just me. Sleeping next to a library, sometimes no sleep still walking almost two hours to my job. Had some financial aid for cold foods. Nothing precooked. More like canned goods, ramen bottled drinks etc etc. Soon, a man i would work with, would show me what true friendship is. Brotherhood, the thing i thought would never exist again in my life.
A very understanding man who brought me into his home twice. Who i got along with, and help me get through what i deal with. He knows he may not ever fully understand it, but he has shown that he is here for support. And to get me through it. I remember waking up from a night terror, which rarely happens, and he came shooting out of his room asking if im ok. If i needed some water. A very caring man. One I can safely say once again, is family to me. He even let me finally live my birthday i’ve wanted to. And it was nothing big, just simplicity. Get drunk and stoned beyond all reason. I remember waking up the next day with two new games i bought for myself. I don’t remember buying them the night before. So you can tell i slept good.
Of course, nothing ever stays calm. He can see it too. The pain in my eyes. The way i walk as though there is the weight of the world on my shoulders. Either i sleep too much, or not at all. Even the simplest tasks like cleaning dishes, feels like i cleaned half a house. My pleasure in games and writing going away. Staring blankly into space, knowing my mind is swarming in that hell. He does what he can. He helps me bare it. But he can’t do it all of course. I still have to manage it myself. One night when we were both working together, i broke. I asked him to come out back with me. Because i was going to snap. Trying to talk to him, is what made it obvious. I couldn’t speak, i couldn’t find a way to explain it. I was in tears, broken and lost. He reassured me, that no matter what happens, i will always have a brother right in front of him. Even if its just to talk and let it all out. So that my building it up wouldn’t destroy me again. So i can feel somewhat human and cared about. Like i matter. Like im good enough. Like the demon, will never win.
Shortly after that, he found a better job and took it. About one month after, i had to quit. Managers from other stores were coming in to cover the missing shifts. Of course they either did nothing, or waited too long to where we would get out an hour or so later. I had to start doing a majority of the store. Basically closing it by myself. I am missing half the pay i deserve for all my work. Not to sound conceited about my work ethic, but that can take a toll on someone. That on top of everything else i was dealing with, i became more tired. I couldnt strain myself for 450 dollars every two weeks and than to be talked down to by a manager who hasnt even been there since the store itself opened. The store has been opened for just over a year. I worked there for about nine to ten months. And i worked hard. Two weeks later, Here i am typing. Waiting for my last check to go through to throw to rent and buy some more time. Still fighting this growing darkness.
Yes, my mother, my sister, my grandmother and my aunts all do love me and i know its true. My second love, i know she truly loved me. My brothers then, and my brothers now do love me. But here is the thing. No matter how much love someone can give you, it can never fully fight all of your demons you battle on the inside. This is where it gets brutally honest. Where i’m honest with myself at least, and not afraid anymore to share what is going on. So read what is in my mind, from than to this exact moment as i type. Here goes…
I Jorge Contreras, Known by some as Jay, have been through hell that no one can fully see nor understand. This is not for pity, or for help. The reason I share this is to try, and i mean TRY to help others who feel alone in their world of hatred, anger, pain, emptiness, loneliness, regret, fear, terror, torture, confusion, frustration, and overall hell can see they are not alone no matter what they think No matter what they feel. No matter what they see.
From childhood to this day, I want to die. I’d rather take my own goddamn life and welcome that sweet sound of silence. To stop it from hurting the people i love most. To stop feeling like nothing, worthless, hopeless, lost, cursed god damn the list goes on. I can still hear him at times as though he is just a whisper. To just jump in front of the train across the street. To feel like no matter who i catch feelings for, no matter who i fall for i will never be good enough for them. No matter how hard i try it will be for nothing and that i will have to suffer whatever is left of my pitiful life. I see myself in the mirror, and all i can think about is how ugly i am. How no one will ever love me me. How everyone will always leave me. How this abyss will continue to grow. I will keep falling forever. Stitches laughing at me. My father screaming at me. My step father putting me down. My relatives thinking it is just for attention or its just all in my head. Well they are half right. It is in my head. But not my choice. If this was really something by choice, i would have turned it off at age seven. I would have been happier, i would have an early heads up on my war i could have done so much more if it was really just all in my head. If i would have screamed for help alot sooner than maybe things would be different. But it is too late now. This is who i am. A survivor with no inspiration. A fighter, with a broken body. A human with no soul. A lost man, with no guidance. A faithful man, with no god. A smile, thats not real. And hope, with no belief of making it through. A person who is a nobody. At this very moment, i want to sleep forever. So it can all stop. There are many events similar to those that i have told you, and some darker. But as i have said before. Somethings you just need to forget. And for good reason. And all i want to do, is try and make it through. To go back to where i can sit and write instead of worry about everything around me. So that when those who read this and understand, can finally feel like someone else is in that darkness with them.
My hands hurt. My back aches. My stomach feels like its eating itself. My knees feeling like they are going to pop out of their sockets. My body tired, my mind exhausted and even better my emotions twisted. Stitches whispering in my ear that no one will read this and no one will care. Might as well just slit my fuckin wrists now. I’m using my own pain inside and out as motivation to type this all out. Without letting it all get to me. Off the top of my head, including suicide attempts, i believe ive cheated death at least eight to ten times. Like i said, sometimes we just keep quiet. We let ourselves burn. We don’t try to leave to hurt the people around us. We give up, because we are the ones who need to stop hurting. I can recall many dark moments in my life. More dark than happy. Because this mind is hellbent on winning. This demon is devoted to his job. To take this soul of this planet. To send it straight to hell. Even though i have lost my faith in god, this is what real demons are. And hell, is what we go through day in and day out. You would think, the lucky ones are still alive. In our case, the lucky ones are the ones who are sleeping and got away from all the pain. I can give all of you deeper detailing into what it is i go through. Or even more events in my life to make people relate to the situations that could completely destroy us and send us into that abyss. I want to scream, and shout and just go on the most furious rampage. To let the world see my demons that are inside of my heart. Like im declaring war on the world and blaming everyone and everything around me for what has happened. But i cant. Because than they win. All i know is, maybe this story can help others out if it gets to them in time. Before they are consumed like myself. Be careful, because some of the people you think are the happiest people you have ever met, are really just good actors about it all. Don’t judge someones road that you have never even come close to walking on. Our eyes see different things than what yours might. Now its time for me to gather the courage to publish this short story, and go look for a god damn cigarette. If you know someone who is in pain or may seem like they are in a dark place, don’t give up on them. Seek help, and try and remind people what love truly is for another human being. We need it so much more than you think.
With much love,
-The Bastard Jorge Contreras
