Living in a harsh, painful and chaotic reality is hard, but escaping from it is even harder.
I grew up in a chaotic family, experienced a lot of bullying during my childhood days, orphaned by my late mother and have less than 5 friends til now.
Dealing with my life is not a walk in the park.
Going through so much had lead me to experience such stresses that sooner affected my physical conditions.
I went through severe depression. I had anxiety. I experienced panic attacks. I could no longer process the way I used to.
I never told my friends because they’re busy doing things to please their own selfish needs and to feed the vanity that lurks inside them.
I never told my father for he is to busy trying to bury the heart that is still grieving.
I never told my teacher who only cares about those he favors.
Time passed and I suddenly find out that I can’t even tell myself what I’m feeling.
The mixed feelings inside continue to pour.
These feelings continue to fill me up til I ached.
The feeling was painful and unbearable. I knew that I had to express myself somehow.
I tried to express myself through cutting, violence and anger.
It worked well. The feeling of pain leaves every time I do it.
Anger, Cutting and Violence were the only ways I escaped. They freed me from my own emotions by creating new ones; Hate and Anger. The most powerful, violent and superior ones for they could devour every sense of emotion and reason you have.
One day when I looked in front of a mirror, I saw nothing but a broken soul, a dirtied dignity and something else.
A person who only knows how to be angry, not happy, not sad. Just plain angry. It was like Once upon a time, I could express myself and my emotions but now, all I could do is wait and watch as people go by because that something else turned out to be a hole in my heart devouring whatever reason, soul and hope I had left.
For long I tried to cover up the hole, to remove it.
And the only way I could do that is to find an outlet.
To let out all the feelings that came pouring in the first place.
Feelings that poured and broke every pinch of me left until I was only a body with no hope, soul or even a pinch of faith.
When me and my sisters were clearing out our stuff. I found my old color pencils and some bond papers and my old drawing books. (Faith was trying to help me I suppose.)
I was mesmerized and thus, I decided to draw Art too.
The pencil drawings turned out bad at first but I kept on practicing and practicing.
Practicing helped with reducing my stress til eventually drawing became an outlet for me to escape from the anger within me.
Drawing helped me express the sadness, the happiness, the fear inside me.
Drawing soothed the pain and blocked the hole inside me.
I fell in love with drawing. Drawing became my outlet. Drawing became my new escape.
Until one day, I met Writing. Writing also became my outlet, but both became my escape.
It’s been a long time since this happened, I loved drawing and writing when I was a kid but I never thought that something I use to like and something I have almost forgotten were the ones who is going to save me from everybody and from myself.
And all it took were pencils and papers.
Response for the Daily Prompt: Escape!