Youth and Manhood from a kyphosis sufferer

Used to think why me, GOD why me, once remember discussing why me, again told son theres a lot worse out there be a man, think i was around 16, guilt again more guilt, thinking back i was made to feel a lot of guilt for something that is and was completly out of my control, be a man, your having a laugh i was a boy, entitled to a little self pity, entitled to be a boy, entitled to be, whatever i wanted to be, too young to be a man, why do boys feel they have to be men, there's another debate, boyhood full of darkness, wanting sleep, the big sleep, northern males aren't allowed to feel, talk, discuss feelings, got to be a man, no one to talk to nowhere to turn, statistically speaking young northern males don't talk they just commit suicide, i'm one of the lucky ones (sic), i made it, many don't, feel lucky, strange thought, i don't feel lucky, was i cowered as well, back then, sat there with a razor blade in the bath, thought about it lots, even got as far as writing a note once, burn't it, felt guilty for writing it, felt guilty for not having the courage to do it jesus, why, where, how did someone manage to make me this way, why are people so cruel, why are boys asked to be men, grow up, used to here that a lot, was i not growing up, yes, i was growing up, differently, yes very differently, no one to talk to but myself, had friends, good friends but who at that age is suitably developed to discuss something so dark, so make lots of boxes, bury those boxes, lock em away, throw away the key, except the keys not been thrown away just hidden, and sometimes found and the pain starts all over againGOD now theres a theological debate i don't think we should have here but surfice to say i am and have been for as long as i can remember a devout atheist. Why make me in this image, i'm the only one, perhaps chosen, chosen for what, ridicule and self loathing, o that self loathng extending into self pity and yet more guilt, spiralling in a world of hurt and loneliness, no wonder i'm so militant in my unbelieving.You might be thinking why these posts, don't know, its cathartic (sp), getting it of my chest, why, doesn't make me feel any straighter, maybe i never grew out of that 16 year old,comfortable, like an old pair of slippers, Asked above where's this going still don't know another day dawned and i woke up, from the hour or so's sleep, do i want to get up, did i want to wake up, no, probably not

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