I am not really a victim. Okay, maybe. I cannot really judge it.
I don’t know much about me, but sometimes I know everything, and this back and forth in my head and my soul sometimes make me run through the world as if I were no part of it.
In my childhood I am the older sister although I am younger.
My sister was born with a severe handicap. Very early I became a second mother to her.
It’s okay for me, even if I vanish behind her and slowly become invisible. She is my sister, that’s all that counts.
I am also sick. I am losing a kidney.
Another piece of me, I am thinking today.
Not a good time, never ever.
In the mirror I don’t see a girl, I don’t see a boy. For a very long time I only see an it.
Something without a name, without a self, without a worth in this world that reacts so hostile towards me, is so indifferent to me.
At school it’s over for me.
I am one of the kids who goes to the same school as their handicapped sister.
My parents think it’s a great idea.
I don’t, but I do it for my sister.
I’m invisible, here as well.
The moment they start to notice me, something begins and for me it is impossible to find it better or worse.
In the corridors I get knocked over, run over, pushed over.
Visible, but I am the only one who notices.
No teacher, no supervisor reacts to what I have to endure daily.
Sometimes I even think it is normal, but I know that cannot be true.
Talking about it with my parents is impossible.
We like each other, but there are more important things than me.
Without friends one of your senses gets stronger.
I hear everything that’s been talked around me, and it’s nearly always about me.
And nobody says anything nice about me.
Which makes me unbelievably furious.
Rage, well above my standard level.
During recess one of the bigger boys passes me and slams his fist in my stomach.
The air leaves my lungs for so long that I fear it will never come back
And everybody keeps on going, not one stops to help.
What kind of people?
The pain stays for a long time. Not only physical. Something has changed.
I am not alone anymore.
This blow has awoken something in me. Something that would be better off sleeping.
Does everybody has it?
An animal, that only awakens when you are about to wither?
At this point in time I naturally knew too little about everything.
The first time the animal roars to life when a girl from a higher grade starts to mock me.
Strangely enough I am not alone with me anymore.
The three of us grab her and put her head first into an empty rain barrel, hold her down, pour sand in the barrel until only her legs are sticking out.
Legs that don’t move anymore.
She was saved, barely. Someone looked out for her.
I only know that I felt no other emotion than joy on this day.
No regrets, no shame.
The mobbing stops at this day, as well as the hitting.
I am no longer feeling helpless.
I never did anything to anyone thereafter again. I somewhat get by with myself.
Reading a lot. Anatomy. Killers. Werwolves.
Werwolf. That’s how I call the animal inside of me.
It doesn’t hate humans as much as I do, but it protects me when I encounter something I detest.
I am hoping that this animal, which is getting stronger, gets something positive out of this strength and shares it with me, so that I can go stronger through this world, too.
That we understand and help each other.
In my fantasies I see myself waking up from a forgotten crime, covered in blood, with a gutted coincidence lying next to me.
And there will be no way back.