Hurt people hurt people.

A lot of people claim they know a lot about being hurt. At different points in life, everyone was hurt. Badly. Lightly. Accidentally. Intentionally. Whichever it is, it doesn't lessen the fact that you indeed, are hurt. Now, as I can't speak for everybody else, I'm going to talk about my hurt.

I didn't have a happy childhood. That's too bad, because you can't have your childhood twice. You can keep the girl/boy in you alive but you can't be a kid twice. There was only one time in your life when you could think of nothing except play. There was only one time in your life when the hardest decision you had to make was to choose which crayon to use. There was only one time in your life when your father could lift you up, let you sit on his shoulder and carry you around so effortlessly. So, if your childhood sucked, you're pretty much fucked up.

Talking about unhappy childhood, there are hundreds of reasons. In fact, all teenagers would claim their lives suck. I agree. Teenage years are pains in the ass. You are confused, you hate your parents, you love your friends more than anybody. That is if you had any friends. And when you don't, you blame on your weight (for girls) or your nerd side (on boys). Now I'm not saying that I'm an expert in this, but I've been there. An angry teenager. A very sad and depressed one.

But my hurt was not only about my vengeful teenage years. It was not only about hating myself because I was fat or stupid. My hurt comes from my strong belief of my worth. I used to believe, that I wasn't worth anything. I used to believe that I was so lowly created that no one would even miss me had I vanished from the face of the Earth. I was so depressed and hurt, I almost believed I was invincible. But what made the difference was when I realized that I wasn't.

My hurt came from my parents' abuse. Now, you might say at this point, 'Oh so this is what it's all about. The same old abuse story again.' Let me tell you what. It's never going to be an old story. It's so commonly heard, you thought it's no big deal. It's always a big deal, it's always going to be something I would talk about and fight against. It's part of me, the only part I wished I could change and I wished I'd never change. It's the part that crushed me but it's also the part that strengthens me. Am I thankful for that? Not really. A part of me still longs for the happy childhood I didn't get to experience. A part of me longs for the happiness of a young girl who could care less about the world. But another part of me knows it so well that I wouldn't be the young woman I am today had I been that happy girl.

My mother used to make me choose what I prefer to have her hit me with. I usually went for the belt. At other times, she wouldn't even let me choose but she'd let me have some taste in each and every tools she had. She sometimes locked me in the bathroom, without towel or anything, and I would sit in the corner of the bathroom, naked and freezing. Or at other times, she would wait until I got out of the bathroom then hit me on bare flesh. She sometimes would hit me so badly I had bruises all over my body. And she would literally chase me around if I ran away from her. I remember locking up my door terrified. Not terrified because she was out there with tools ready to hit me, but I was terrified at the fact she might be able to knock down the door and get me. I still have nightmares until now. Mostly they're about the feeling of being so helpless and scared. And after the nightmares, I would slightly return to that little terrified girl who was so helpless and... sad.

Again, perhaps what I had wasn't as bad as some others had to experience. Some might undergo much more terrible abuse. It doesn't make mine less abusive, or less damaging, though. It's all the same. Once a fist was raised to your little face, you're in the circle.

Now, I am an accomplished young woman. There were times I was crushed so badly I thought I would just die. But I didn't die. There were times I thought my days were extremely horrible I didn't even want to go through another one. But I did go through another day. There were times I hated my parents so much I thought I'd never forgive myself until the day I die. But I did forgive them. I've conquered most of my painful past, even though the nightmares are still haunting me. I am damaged, but I survived. I was severely beaten but I healed. I lost a lot of pieces of me but I glued what I could find. I am pretty much okay, maybe much more okay than some other 21-year-olds who had a happy childhood. So why worried about abused children? We don't need to help them. They'll survive.

No. They will not. Even if they will, it's one case out of a million. And for the rest 999,999 cases, they would be trapped in the endless circle of hurting. They were hurt so much, they thought the only way to relieve some of the pain is by hurting other people. They knew that's the only way to do so. They hurt people, so their pain becomes less hurting. Hurt people hurt people. And it'll go as a cycle. Your parents hurt you, you hurt your kids and your kids would hurt your grandchildren and so on. And the world is really going to be fucked up.

I watched Bill Cosby's speech today. He said, 'If you hit your children, you'll end up really abusing them. You would never be able to restore the wound or undo the pain." Think twice before you raise your fists to your children's face. Look at them in their eyes, does anything they do really deserve a punch at their little faces? The answer is NO. It's always no. And if the answer's yes, then you should pack your things and leave the house. You shouldn't be a parent at all. 

Children should not be terrified of their own parents. Parents are supposed to be the most comforting place to go to. We should feel the safest when we lie our heads upon their chests. We should be able to expect a hug whenever we got hurt or fell down. We should not be terrified to expect a kiss whenever we succeeded in school. We should be able to go home and cry after a bad day in school without having to worry whether or not they would hit us for crying. It shouldn't hurt to be a child. You might already know all about this, but you have no idea how this feels if you hadn't experienced it yourself.

Abusing your children and hope they'll be strong enough to be an accomplished person later is never right. You have to raise your children right. You have to listen to what they've got to say. They are talking to you. They are trying to tell you something. And you have to listen to them because you are their parents. You could never, never be able to imagine how much pain they have to go through. You can lose the hatred, you can lose the bruises but the nightmares, they never go away. And trust me when I say it lasts a lifetime. It really is.