10 Minute Paper

Jesse Mattson

© Copyright 2004 by Jesse Mattson


Photo of a rusted pile of chain.

10 minutes starts now.

I’ve been to hell. I’ve scaled hell’s high walls, pulling myself to a better, safer world; a world where I could function as a normal person.

When I was four years old, I was dragged from my safe haven of Barney the Big Purple Dinosaur and Ninja Turtles to a very real and rancid place known as the adult world. At four years old, I was forced to know the harsh realities this world withheld. I was forced to understand that the flowery world I found to exist was only forged from fantasies and fables.

I remember the night very vividly. It was a dark night that I would replay in my scared mind over and over and over again throughout my long days and devilish nightmares. Staying at my mother’s house was never a safe time. Dodging her drugged swings were a usual slalom for me. But, this night was different. Her new, weekly boyfriend was someone I didn’t know.

I remember the shame, the confusion, the embarrassment, the crying, the crying, the crying. To be abused was all of these things. To be so powerless against somebody was a feeling I did not deserve. Then rushed in the anger surging though my body, past the pain, past the embarrassment, past the crying, past the crying, past the crying, I was an enormous giant killing him over and over and over again.

I remember the betrayal by my insignificant mother. She knew of the unspoken damage that was being done. She knew what her boyfriend was doing. At age four, I truly knew what hate was. I knew what it was like to want to kill, to hurt, to damage.

Where was God when I needed him? Where was my fucking help? Why did I have to be the one to receive such unfair and unruly treatment? Why? Why? Why?

The embarrassment came again. Uncles, Aunts, Cousins, Grandparents, Relatives, Family Friends; they all knew. They all looked at me and pitied my helpless figure. I wanted to kill them all. Personality grew from the lifeless figure. An unbreakable and lifelong promise was made to my newly restored mind, never to trust.

Five, six, and seven: there was never any healing. Anger still boiled throughout my growing veins and hardened as the year passed by. Replaying of the unbearable incident was constantly haunting my relationships.

Ignorant therapists tried placing their dollar marks on my poor behavior. They knew absolutely nothing of what I went through, they knew nothing of the loss of golden innocence. I surpassed their intelligence, knocking them down one by one, growing to be a stronger more powerful, more influential, more intriguing of a person, using my experience as the weight to catapult over the high walls of society.

All I feel is Anger, Anger, ANGER.

10 minutes stops now.

I am a student at Choate and I wrote this paper for English.  I wrote this paper in ten minutes.

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