This is my first confession. Although I am not supposed to have the right to confess. I have not been baptized and will not be in the future.
I was born at the time of the collapse of the USSR. My family was poor. My father drank a lot, my mother was losing her health at work. She worked around the clock to feed me and my two brothers. It was hard. I know what hunger and need are. I had to learn what humiliation and beatings were like. Since childhood I learned to suppress my emotions. All my life I remembered my father’s words that I was not his son. It was like this year after year. Humiliation, pain, fear, hard work. We were punished for everything. Fortunately, we didn’t become cloistered people, we just became unsociable, cruel. Everything around us seemed alien, evil, hostile. I never learned to trust people. I didn’t know what kindness and love were until I was a teenager. Nor did I know affection. So those words were nothing to me.
Then puberty started. I became interested in girls, but nothing worked with them. After all, I got all the knowledge about courtship from books and movies. And there was no one to ask. My father only scoffed, my mother did not talk to us much. By that time she was very ill, and my father had stopped drinking because of his illnesses. I remember how hurtful and sad it was to hear refusals from girls. No one wanted to be friends with me. Although my appearance was normal.
Then school ended. I left for a distant city, went to university, started studying. I lived on a scholarship. Then I worked part-time. All in all, I got by somehow. Then things changed. I met a girl. How beautiful she was! And she came in contact with me on her own. We met, and she taught me how to live my life differently. To be happy, to smile. I waited for every new meeting. I breathed and lived only with her. Later we separated, she met a new love. I was just a toy.
There was a shock at first. I had never been in so much pain. For almost a year I had almost no contact with anyone. I worked, studied, ate, slept. I suppressed all my feelings, and then I realized that I wanted to love, I wanted to be loved again. So I met a new girl. I could not love her, but I became very attached. She became my wife. She gave me two wonderful children. It wasn’t so bad. Then I realized my wife was cheating on me.
There were no scandals and swearing. I know it was my fault. I just can’t give her simple human warmth. There’s nowhere for me to get it. We’re divorced. I still help her with everything. She asks me to live with her and not leave. So I lived like a biorobot for a couple of years. Eating, working, sleeping. Then there was a late-night phone call. My first love called and asked me to help her. She gave me her address and hung up. I can’t even put into words what I felt then. Pain, hatred, a real flame in my chest. Then I was curious. So I went to see her. I wanted to insult her, to humiliate her, to trample her. Revenge.
She opened the door and my legs buckled. Exhausted, scarred, one leg missing. I stood in a stupor, silent. She looked at me and cried. I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t. She told me what had happened to her during those ten long years. About a serious illness, about a dream, about a normal family, about her life. She asked for help from me, because there was no one else to turn to. I felt sorry for her. I helped her to make repairs, and then I helped her with all sorts of little things. I stayed the night at her place.
Now I think a lot. I want to be with her, to help and keep her safe. I’m drawn to her, but I don’t want to leave my kids. I’ve never been happy and I’ve made my peace with it. But what if I am? I’ve never even seen real life, just the inside of it. I feel like my love hasn’t died, it’s just been asleep for years.
