1. i see your image with little x and you walking down spacex hallways.

2. following a baby wearing mask.

 

if you mean to imply i was protected and loved think again.

 

the man was a violent asshole who turned at the chance.

 

this began when i was 3. one photo, that was his first punch.

the bruise on the left eye. i don't know what is going on, how violent he is.

i am smiling.

 

as a baby, no. i wasn't hit. i was 'protected'.

it began when i was a toddler. as i started walking.

 

 

one instance, as my mother told me.

 

that we were exchanging ball pass.

between my father and i.

 

i apparently as a baby, got bored throwing back the ball at him.

 

so i threw the ball at a different direction, in order for him to fetch the ball.

 

at that moment my father's expression changed to something grim. something concerning,

angry.

 

 

when 17. he told me this.

 

when a tiger lays a cub, you instill fear into the cub

while it is still young. or otherwise it will grow up to eat the father.

 

this is why he hit me with all that insane violence since i was 3.

 

there may have been a 2 year gap between 3 to 5. but since after it was

about once every 6 months or so until i was 13-14.

 

unbelievable?

 

don't believe it then. that is what it was. insane authoritative control

by pure physical violence, and when not physical violence, verbal, constant threats.

 

 

another instance.

 

"if what i hold in my hand is a potato, and i tell you it is cabbage.

you believe that it is cabbage."

 

"and if i don't, will you kill us?"

 

he grins, half-serious as he says "yeah".

 

 

my father was a severely disturbed man.

 

he would justify his own violence on myself,

 

claiming his own father tried to kill him with a club as he entered a room, waiting with a full pose.

(baseball stance)

 

ok. mr Musk.

 

I don't think. this realm is something that you can comprehend, or empathetically understand.

 

it is beyond reason. it is beyond civility.

 

and yes, every bit i say is the truth.

 

i lived that life since i was a toddler.

 

 

and the father was closer to an animal than a human being.

 

in his expression, the way he communicated, his values in dominance and threats,

insane anger that could have killed us at whim.

 

 

and hunting was his life.

 

i recall often, and i'm not trying to be poetic here to instill some imagery,

but trying to convey what it was like.

 

i recall often, the smell of animal blood permeating the house,

air becoming thick, heavy, pungeant smell.

 

and the sound of knives being sharpened throughout the night.

 

all the while the threats have been present. that fear of him going whacko again.

 

 

i remember him hitting my mother as we ate in the kitchen,

across the face with her ear alongside it, in deliberate attempt to affect more than a slap to the cheek,

with a very violent force, swearing.

 

then as i glared at him, unable to do anythiing. (i was 14)

i became next.

 

i can't even recall what it was about but it was own psychological complex.

 

 

 

just. don't even think that i'm exaggerating or lying.

 

that was my life.

 

 

you have no idea what mental illness is and how that is hidden in public viewing.

 

domestic abuse, and what fear we lived through.