Kya Gardu単o
The Survivalist
can’t afford morals or beliefs. It’s not that I don’t try to be a pleasant person who follows normal social rules. It’s more of needing the freedom to act without a societal conscience. I feel most beliefs people have are built by the society they were raised in instead of being raised on personal experience. Unfortunately, I was never allowed to grow into one single community and never learned the values of their limitations. I’ve always had to fight and worry about making it to the next day, week, or year. I was raised by my father, a high-school dropout and independent artist. My mother, a meth addict, was never really in my early childhood (for obvious reasons). My father and I never really had a lot of money and were always worried about meeting next month’s rent or keeping food in our cupboards. My dad tended to rely on girlfriends for cash, mooching off of them and never staying single for long. We moved houses frequently, lived with many people, and never stayed in one place for long. My fears weren’t solely focused on money, however. My father was also paranoid, and believed in massive government conspiracies and prophecies of Armageddon. His perpetual fear infected me and made me suspicious of everyone. He raised me with a belief when the Apocalypse came; it was our job to save the human race. His beliefs were filled with delusions and grandeur. The only moral my dad tried to teach me was to never lie, though it was more for his own security, since he believed the rest of the world was against him. Ironically, my dad rarely believed me when I did tell the truth, so his paranoia got me into the terrible habit of half-truths and vague lies.
Around the age of ten, I decided to live with my mother, who was presumed sober, during the time in which she had just given birth to my younger sister. My reason for this was because, two years prior, my dad had another child who died of Sudden Infant Death syndrome, so, fearing that I would lose my new sister before I got to truly know her, I asked my mother if I could live with her. However, the next two years were hell. My mother and her new husband quickly descended back into the world of drugs, forcing me to take care of my younger sister along with myself. I tried to feed and clean her as best I could with my minimal knowledge of toddlers. School wasn’t much an escape either: rocks being thrown at me, getting into after school fights, and consistently having trouble follow me. During this time I learned how to truly lie, how to attack, and hide. “Right” and “wrong” had no value to me, only survival. I knew how to argue with teachers and peers, where to strike them emotionally. Yet I excelled in school, went to church, and influenced others to vandalize property, and start fights with their enemies. I was shredded into many people: rebel, caregiver, nerd, and orphan. If I had morals, I would have broken under the pressure and weight of them. If I believed in right-orwrong, I would be a lot bitterer today. Oddly enough, the stress of surviving with my mom was easier than coping with normalcy. Trying to adapt to a calm situation after years of constant vigilance is the hardest challenge for me today. My mind tries to cope with it all by elevating its stress levels, and it’s taken a toll on both my physical and emotional health. However, I am coping nonetheless and finally at a point in my mental maturity where I can watch my sister grow without worrying about her starving because I was there to provide for her, and I am poised to go to college and have long term plans for my future. It’s better now. And yet, it is what it is. We can’t change the past, but we can sharpen our minds and strengthen our bodies and detect the patterns in society, situations, behaviors, and personal outlook on life. Adaptability is a great human asset, so when that proverbial tsunami hits, we can brace ourselves, and those who can’t float in the waves, will drown in the rip tide.