Music is good, domestic violence sucks

How long has it been since he died? a little over 4 years, it still feels so unreal. 2017 was an interesting year, musically and for me personally. You would discover the next upcoming rapper/ singer and be blown away by how relatable the lyrics are, how beautiful the sound was, and how many emotions come up in you. 

And then there was XXXTENTACION! (And Shiloh Dynasty, whoo!) 

When I first heard his music, a collaboration with Shiloh Dynasty, "Jocelyn Flores" I thought "wow I'm so deep and my emotions are so profound". Then I realized something, yes, sadness can be beautiful, it can inspire you, and it can create art just like happiness does. But it can be detrimental.

Back then I was just a kid, 15, and still naive and childish. I didn't know what "domestic violence" "child abuse" or "mental health" was. I just knew my parents were different from the ones of other kids. They can go outside and play, have fun with friends, have sleepovers, have birthdays, and have parties. Not me. I have siblings, what do I need friends for? I own a bunch of toys, no need to play outside and parties? I can eat cake, blow up balloons, and dance (in moderation) at home in my room. "Home" slowly became a prison, the more I noticed things were.. off about my family. 

At first, I thought nothing of it, what was I supposed to think? I was 15 and watched barbie movies and snuff films and played with Barbie dolls, not Ken dolls. I discovered girls kissing is nice to look at, and I discovered it was wrong, too. I was scared and secretive but indulgent, I drew badly scribbled sketches of two girls kissing and hugging and ripped them apart and hid them. 

I learned that I am sad, and very deeply affected by the things I considered "Normal", I am emotional and I lash out and I hide things and steal things. The breaking point was meeting X, he put my feelings into words, sounds, and music. I never really thought about him though, I just listened to the music and read the lyrics, I suddenly loved singing. 

His death however didn't hit me(no offense), when I found out his age, I felt how fragile life really was. But back then, I was living in an illusion, a bubble that does not allow anything from the outside to influence the inside. "What happens at home, stays at home." And vice versa. It felt like my fate to stay locked inside, away from people, I'm not like them. So I made it my personality, I became cold and distant, I sat in the back of the class, stared out the windows, napped, or drew awful things. People thought I was morbid for that, but sometimes I would break that shell and smile and laugh and make jokes. And I would regret it every time, I am sure my friends got whiplash from my erratic behavior. 

And when I tell you, "No one cares" I am being serious. I am 100 % sure I was suffering from depression back then, and no one noticed, not my friends, seatmates not even the "pedagogically trained" professionals, the teachers. 

I was done dirty, I gave up and I was dropped when I stopped being happy-go-lucky. But let's be for real for a moment, even when I feigned happiness I was not appreciated. 

I was a people pleaser and I knew. I was altruistic and selfless and it got me nowhere. I am still here in this hellhole, I hate all of my siblings and can't stand to be near my dad for more than 5 minutes. And my mom? She hates me, I am just a freak to her. I lost 3 kilograms and yet I feel like cutting myself. 

I want to run away until my feet grow blisters and my legs hurt, I would do it if it meant I can be free. I would rather be homeless and without food and shelter than here. I want to be far away from Berlin, I want this city to burn down I want a bomb to hit my family, and I want to have an excuse to flee. 

Because my safety and well-being aren't enough.