What Lies Beyond The Smile.

   Hello, to the freaks and the forgotten. A long time ago, I made the mistake of letting someone in, instead of building my walls. It was a very bad mistake because after I let them in, and after they saw the real me, I began to trust them. I began to open up to them even more. I even began to care about them and worry about them. It even got to the point where I considered them my best friend.

   You see, I was that kid who was bullied all of their life, didn’t have any friends, even thought about ending it. So, when someone else came along and helped me out of the locker that my bullies had trapped me in, and became my friend, I began to think that maybe ending it wasn’t worth it. I began to feel as if I had friends, as if I belonged somewhere, and people wanted me around. The bullying began to settle down, and almost stopped completely.

   But, just as I thought that things were finally beginning to look up, the only friend that I had ever had, throughout all of the pain and misery, left me. I watched, unable to stop it, as he fell. He fell and hit the ground with the sound of a gun, and there was nothing that I could do about it but run to his side and hope that it wasn’t over. Hope that there was another battle to fight, a war to still win, and that he hadn’t lost his war. I hoped that there would be a chance to sit in our tree house, once again, as he strummed his guitar and I pretended to bury my-self in my homework, but actually listening as he played. I ran to his side hoping and hoping, but my hope was lost, as I saw his face and his bright blue eyes, staring at me.

   People were screaming, my face was dripping in tears, sirens were screeching from over the hill, and yet all that I could really hear was his voice singing How to Save a Life by The Fray; the last song that will ever hear him play. I heard his laugh, saw his smile, in the back of my mind, all while listening to his voice sing the song that he loved so much. But, when I looked into his eyes, I couldn’t see the light that would brighten up the beaten old tree house, nor the wrinkles under them as he laughed. I saw a darkness clouding the blue of his irises and scratch on his left cheek from when he hit his head. As the ambulance took the only person who ever cared and the only person whom I cared about, all of the things that reminded me of him, were lost in the back of my memory. My mind flooded with the sound of his body hitting the ground and the sad, lost look on his face replacing the reassuring smile that he would give me every time that I came over after school.

After that, I pushed away my new friends, and began shutting people out, once again. When it came to the bullies, I used to at least try to block them out, or stand up for my-self. But, after watching my best friend loose his final battle, I would sit there and take it. I would listen to the insults and not even flinch, as they gave me a black eye.

   Eventually, what little friends that I had gained before the fall, moved on and forgot about me. All except one, she’d continue to take the time to come up to me every morning and ask me how I was doing. Even though, I never answered her, she would still ask me, every morning, and sit next to me, in silence, until she had to leave for class.

   I never understood why she would do that, I didn’t understand why she cared. Hell, I still don’t. But, I never asked, I never even replied, expecting her to leave and move on just like the others. But, she never did, she kept at it for months, until I finally looked at her and asked her, “What are you doing, asking me if I’m okay? I’m the freak and every one’s punching bag for them to release all of their anger out on. But, never mind all that, you still talk to me, when you could be picked on too, for it. Why do you even give a crap, anyways, about someone like me?” (I was 9.)

   What she did next, surprised me. She looked me square in the eye, and told me, in the most monotone way, “Because, while every dumb person here seems to want to tell you that you’re no good, and not worth anything…I want to remind you that none of these dummies are right. You, are really cool, and I think someone needs to remind you of that. Plus, you need to know you’re not alone, and you have a friend.” She smiled at me after saying that, and I was shell-shocked. I never thought that anyone, other than the one who lost his war, would ever say that to someone like me. I always thought that people would only throw their stones and never take a second glance at the one they were throwing them at. She had to leave for her class before I had a chance to thank her. But, she didn’t leave without giving me a quick glance and a slight smile, before saying “hi” to one of her friends.

   She and I are still friends today. She’s gotten me through a lot, some might even say the she has helped me from hell and back, but, I would do the same for her. I was still bullied, but she would stand up for me when she saw it. She and a few others became my closest friends, and I could never repay that.

   My point is… Life is a war worth fighting. Every decision, your battles. Every friend, a soldier. Maybe you have the smallest army, or maybe you have the largest. Maybe you’ve lost a few battles, or you’ve lost a lot. But, the war isn’t over, the fighting will continue. You will lose some soldiers, and you will lose some battles, it will happen. But, that doesn’t mean that the war is over, just because you lose your best soldier, because, there will always be another soldier fighting the same war, helping you fight your war. The only way to win this war that is life, is to continue fighting. You may think about retreating, or surrendering, but, you can’t, you have to continue fighting. Just because you’ve lost one battle, doesn’t mean that you will lose the next, nor the next. If you keep fighting, doesn’t matter how many battles that you win or lose, it matters if you kept fighting through it all.

When you look back on how many battles you’ve lost, all hope of winning this war may seem as if it never existed. But, it will get better, there will be another battle and it’s your decision whether you fight stronger and smarter, or if you surrender this war or not.

   Though we part our ways now, we will meet again, on the path that we all follow. Lost in the depths of this cruel world, this is Pheonix Slade, walking The Trail Of The Broken.

The Confession In The Dark.

   Hello, to the freaks and the forgotten. Normally I would tell you something worth reading, or something to help you get through the day. But, today I can’t.

   Remember how I said that we all walk the trail of the broken? Well, today someone asked me something that made me realize just how long that I’ve been on this trail. I guess you could say that I’ve walked this path before, strayed from it for a while, but just ended right back on this stupid trail.

He asked me “why do you self-hate, so much?” On the outside, I blew it off, changed the subject, not answering the question. But, on the inside, I thought about it. And the more that I thought about it, the more I realized, I’ve felt like this for as long as I can remember. I don’t know when it started or what started it, but I know that I believe what I think about myself.

   I look at myself in the mirror and all I see is a mop of un-brushed, greasy brown hair, that no matter how many times I try to fix it, it just goes back to that hideous, tangled, crap-mop sitting on a worthless, piece of shit that no one will ever care about. I see a poor excuse for an ugly, crap face, beyond the repair of makeup or some other cosmetic style. I see ugly, crappy, swamp eyes, just above two inch bags. If I look deeper, I see a bitch with problems. Many problems, from paranoia to depression, from ADD to depression to schizophrenia. I hide it from other people, but, I still see it. And no matter how hard I try, I can never see something good within me, because from my experience there is nothing there.

   As I think about that question, I realize just how broken I am. I realize just how pathetic I probably sound, but, there’s more to it than me sitting here talking about how much I hate myself. What I’m trying to say is that when I think about this question, everything just kind of falls into realization.

I’ve been feeling like this for as long as I can remember. So, I self-hate and look at myself in awful ways because I don’t know how to look at myself any differently. I’ve never had anyone look at me a different way. Throughout my life, I was surrounded by bullies. They would torture me, tease me, push me, beat me, even spit at me. So, when someone tells me something different, than the things that the bullies throw at me, I don’t believe it. I don’t believe them. I think that “they’ll change their mind, realize that I’m not worth even a second glance. They’ll move on with their lives and forget about me completely. Then, I’ll be alone, once again, surrounded by bullies.” I’ve lost a lot of friends because I would push them away, and they would move on. Those few who wouldn’t let me push them away, were just hurt, in the end, all because they didn’t follow the others and realize that I’m not worth puling back.

   But, if you really know me, then you would know just how hypocritical that sounds, because as I push people away, I also refuse to abandon the ones who push me. I just push back. But, while we stay together for now, soon enough, one of us is going to slip up and we’re both going to fall. We will hit the ground and while it’s true that neither of us are pushing each other anymore, neither are we standing. We will fall, and they will pick themselves up and leave me, lying there on the ground, not wanting to get back up.

   But, as the question at hand echo’s in my head, I can’t help but think about just how broken I really am. So, the answer to your question would be, I don’t know. I don’t know why I hate myself so much, I can’t remember what made me feel this way, or why I feel this way. All I know, is that I don’t know how else to feel or think. I know that the many things that I hate about myself, are things that I truly believe.

   Go ahead, reticule me. But, that wont change the fact that I believe these things about myself. And it sure as hell wont change the fact that when I open up to people they’re either hurt or scared away. So, when I tell you “I’m fine.” Think twice, because for me there’s great, good, okay, not okay, dying, RUN, fine. Believe me, when you ask me something like “why do you self-hate, so much?” I will tell you that “I’m fine.” When in reality, I’m not okay (I promise).

   Though we part our ways now, we will meet again, on the path that we all follow. Lost in the depths of this cruel world, this is Pheonix Slade, walking The Trail Of The Broken.

Welcome to The Forgotten Trail.

   Hey, guys. I'm Pheonix, and welcome to The Trail Of The Broken. To be honest, I hope you like it, because we are all stuck on this trail, together. No matter how badly we wish to turn around and choose a different trail, we will all end up on the trail of the broken, one way or another. So, strap in, because there is no escape from this hell that is life.
   We are the freaks and the forgotten. Other people see us as nothing more than trash. We welcome the torment, and greet the pain with open arms. Because we're afraid and broken, that's why we are on this trail. That is why we follow this "beaten path." Why we hide our faces when we come across people, or why we will avoid making friends...Out of fear. Fear of becoming close to someone. Of allowing anyone to see just how broken we truly are, because when people see the real you, they get hurt or they hurt you.
   So, you hide you pain, suffer in silence, you don't speak your thoughts, and you never let anyone see you suffer. You fake a smile. You put on an act, just for show. You pretend that you're happy and innocent, when in reality you're far from it. You fake a smile and hide your scars because if you let your true self show, people get hurt. You do it to avoid the teasing and worried glares.
   But, the truth is; we are all here...On the path of the freaks...The road of the forgotten...The trail of the broken. We are all here, and we are all alone, wondering this world with no map, no compass, nothing to guide you. You're on your own in this cruel world, with no one to  catch you when you're falling, or to pick you up after you've hit the ground,
   People will tell you that you're not alone and that they're there for you, but, just as you need them the most, they're no where to be seen. That hurts, a lot. It hurts to believe them, that they would be there for you, and then they aren't. It feels as if they intentionally hurt you...
   Now, this isn't some inspirational shit speech or something. In fact it's probably the complete opposite. While most people will tell you, "get over it" or "stop being so over-dramatic," I'm here to tell you that there are other people who feel the way that you are feeling. I know that it's hard to believe sometimes, but, I'm right there with you, along with others. But, I'm not going to say that "we can get through this together" because there is no "getting through this", we are who we are and there is no changing that. Besides, even if we did change our personality, we will still have these emotions.
   Everyone feels them; from the popular/preppy girls who dress like sluts, the "pumped up on steroids" jocks , standing there, slapping each other on the ass, to the "emo and goth" kids in all black and listening to music with a deeper meaning than sex and drugs, we all feel it; the depressing thoughts of worthlessness. All of these stereotypes and labels are just that, stereotypes and labels, nothing more. They're just masks, false appearances, put on to hide what is truly beneath them...Emotions.
   Because, under those masks, and behind those fake smiles we all feel the same depressing emotion. It's not the emotions, or the thoughts that separate us into these stereotypes. It's how we express the pain and the suffering. "It's how we deal with these emotions, that matter." Not the thoughts that run through our heads, or the pain that we feel, it's the way that we show them, that puts us into these stereotypes and labels.
   Remember that next time that you wonder off, onto the trail of the broken, alone. But, just because you wondered onto the trail alone, doesn't mean that you have to walk the trail alone. As you walk down this lonely trail, you will figure out just how broken we all are, and people will come and go. But, by the end of our journey, we will have lost a few, but gained so many. And while those gained will never replace those who were lost, there will always be the group of the freaks and the forgotten wondering down this beaten and deserted trail of the broken.
   Though we part our ways now, we will meet again on the path that we all follow. Lost in the depths of this cruel world, this is Pheonix Slade, walking The Trail Of The Broken.