Biography of a Scapegoat

It’s the little things family does. They add up.

I was happy for 6 hours this morning. More than I am allowed.

When you’re the unwanted and unwelcome child of a sociopath, seen as a mistake by your parents, a lifelong embarrassment to your family for continuing to breathe, the support system other people take for granted — it doesn’t exist.

Imagine trying to get your needs met. Well, you’d have to imagine it because it will never happen. Like me, you’d be in a constant state of stress. Always on the defensive. Always.

It’s a constant uphill battle to get people to see behind lies and manipulations. How could you ever be seen in a positive light? You’d have to be perfect. You’d have to hold all perfectly the same opinions on everything as your family. You couldn’t afford the potential loss of a single person from your corner.

No one would ever care if your basic human rights were violated. They’ve been violated your whole life. It’s “the way things are done.” It’s just “the way things are.” It’s the default setting of your family and hometown. They’d just laugh if you demanded to be treated with dignity.

Everything you do is automatically worth less than if someone else had done it. Your work, any academic pursuit. You will never be the first choice at recess. The social organization of a pack of wild children demand s that you are belittled. You are never given a chance. Anything you put noticeable effort into will be derided.

Escape is for the visible.

Forget about trying to escape your hometown. Even if some outsider would give you, a stranger, a chance, you’ve already been socialized towards being ignored and dismissed in thousands of ways you haven’t ever considered. You would have certainly internalized much of the discrimination yourself.

This is how you suffer when your crime is being born unwanted. Every moment that you continue to live instead of offing yourself adds to your ineptitude as people see what they want to see, you as the problem. They need to validate their treatment of you, otherwise they would be in the wrong. They will never allow themselves to be wrong.

Being unbelievable from birth, there is no humanly possible way to become vindicated. There is no way to achieve equal treatment from the very outset of any interaction you have with the world. You carry your training with you. It says abuse me. It screams “devalue me” in silence.

I could be resentful towards them. I could wonder why they never showed me enough love to see the situation as it is and kill me outright to save me from further torture and humiliation. I suppose they aren’t the merciful type.

They are watching, waiting for you to screw up.

Many of the jobs I’ve had in my life might as well come with the title of Scapegoat. I was hired to be made an example of in several places. I was set up to scare the other employees into submission.

The space given to grow, to express my personality has always been extremely limited. Any thought or action outside of “the normal allowable range”, whatever that is, is met with total social condemnation. Even just being left-handed causes some people to shake their heads when they see me write. That’s how unforgiving some people are for the most minor of divergences from the social norms when you carry yourself as if you don’t belong.

Even those I would find naturally affinity with give me a wide berth. For some reason, I have trust issues. I also tend to be a little sarcastic. Some might even say snarky. I can’t let those protective shields down to let anyone in.

There appears to be those on the periphery who are aware of my situation and why it’s happening. It doesn’t matter much. Except to keep me minimally alive. I’m still lonely and cower waiting for the next round of intermittent torture. That’s not what these good people would want to hear. Please, don’t let them abandon me.

Elaboration on the state of being outcast: a mental exercise.

They deserve my appreciation, which I rarely give. Their efforts are like attempting to soak up an ocean of tears with a ripped portion of a sheet of single-ply toilet paper. I understand their motivations perhaps more than anyone else alive..

I am one of those very rare outcasts who has been educated enough to synthesize my life experiences to reach a point of understanding regarding what happened and why. As far as I can see, I may be the only one.

When we are encouraged or forced to ignore negativity, it grows. The negativity grows in the darkness, feeding on our souls. We have less energy to deal with other people as our internal monsters devour us.

There are some victims of a punishment oriented society who try to see beyond the veil of our lies. They try to see the real world instead of allowing themselves to be deceived. They discover that we are led by those who are the least aware. The realists are then forced into silent agreement with the deluded or ostracized as punishment for not being part of a mass hypnosis.

The extreme need of my family for me to always be wrong, wrong without speaking, staying silent my whole life, to have angry red-faced hate filled monsters spit in my face and tell me I’m going to Hell. Silenced for life, silenced for eternity. And these people think they are on he side of righteousness? They think Jesus is on their side?

They are so used to not caring, so used to my automatic dismissal. They are able to read words like the ones I use here, heartfelt words, and shrug them off as meaningless.

Could anything be more offensive? A lifetime of fear of my knowledge, a lifetime of scornful looks cautioning me to stay silent. Now, you want to stretch my torture into eternity?

Aftermath of the election. Ripping American families apart after the battle was supposed to be over.

My family doesn’t want me to exist! Just as they voted, as they’ve always voted. They vote for me not to have basic human rights. My family wants me dead. They think they’re being nice to me by not telling me? Shallow. Thoughtless. Ignorant. Brats. Murdering Democracy.

I would rather be dead than remember, becoming aware of the way my family has treated me throughout my life. 50 years of disrespect. They had to drain any joy I could possibly get from seeing their pseudo-orange God, their narcissistic hero fall. Disowning me became part of the process of recounting. How dare I not fall in line behind the God-King?

Dismissing me?! I’m the sane one! What remains of my family ripping themselves away from me, voting for my death. No matter. I was never invited in to my own family. Never meant to feel welcomed or loved.

I remember when I was 5 years old, and how important I thought family was. I thought family was everything, and that I would do anything for any of them. Come to find out, that wasn’t a mutual feeling. Good to know. Now I I know.

They weren’t deceived by a second rate con-man. They really worship Him. He is their leader in ignorance and darkness. The enemy of God, Truth, Knowledge, and the Light. My family is no more. I wish I never loved them. They ruined me long before the world had a chance to inflict the damage they warned me about. Ruining my life, mental and emotional abuse for 50 years, was to spit in the face of God and the Heavens.

Psychopaths are born. Sociopaths are made. Whether they succeeded or not, they certainly put in a herculean effort into making me one at any rate.

God was right. I have no mother. I have no father. I have no parents. I am the first orphan. I was there at the birth of the Universe, first born with no parents. I was the head of the tempest. The chicken without an egg.

Cross-decade comparission of getting fucked over.

I lived through Ronald Reagan robbing me, stripping me of my ability to pay for further education. I remember all my family approved of that. They never paused to consider me for a moment then. either, they had an image to worship. Now, someone who wants to deny me dignity and equal protection under the law comes about, his supporters even worse, many want me dead. They call it moving further to the right. My family applauds again.

Then tell me I have my head up my ass if I don’t see how the country absolutely LOVES Donald Trump, and “my side” is a bunch of thieves and liars, and that I should be ashamed. Talk about projecting your faults onto others.

Yes, by all means. Let’s recount the fascist’s votes six times. Whatever it takes. After all, the narrative is that he’s a winner.

I have been gifted the perfect recipe for suicide or justifiable homicide my whole life. I’m just waiting for anyone who gives lip service to the idea that they halfheartedly love me to notice this twisted farce. It’s been 50 years so far. Not a hint of empathy from the nuthouse.

Just to be clear, should anyone I’m related to read this: This isn’t about Donald Trump. It’s about you, his loyal and deceived followers. I know, you’re too busy being persecuted to listen to me.

I am the silenced stranger. Unwelcome in his own home. I thought my family was ripped away from me with the creation of Fox News. I was wrong. I never had a family to rip away. They’ve always been against me. Ronald Reagan, Fox News, Donald Trump, Right -wing talk radio, they just exposed the wound that was always there since the beginning of time.