I believe in what Fyodor Dostoyevsky said “Sarcasm: the last refuge of modest and chaste-souled people when the privacy of their soul is coarsely and intrusively invaded.” I must say many believe this is false. They think of sarcasm as humor used to hurt people. This is true yet utterly wrong. People do use sarcasm to hurt people, others as a way to defend themselves, in a sense there is a good and evil side to sarcasm. Nevertheless, just because a person uses the power of sarcasm to hurt others, does not make them evil. They could be hurt, and use it to protect themselves. You don’t believe me? I thought you wouldn’t. Well, let me tell you a story, the story of me.
I grew up on the island of Lanai and I am both Hawaiian and Irish. Even with the combination I still looked white, and most of the children around me did not like it, so they fun of me. I felt like an outcast. When I was in second grade, I tried to make friends, only a few though. At the age of ten, my parents began to fight, then, when I was 12, they got a divorce, and I was forced to chose sides. I was forced me to perform drastic measures, something that could damage the mind and spirit of any child. I shut my feelings away, and only revealed them to close friends. Again, this was another mistake. For you see, I began to put too much faith in a single friend, and one day, it all came back at me.
When I was around 13, my best friend of eight years, betrayed me, and used all of those feeling, the secrets, the pain, against me, making me the joke of the school. Like typical kids, they called me a fag. I was special though, and they created the game, avoid the fag, in my honor. It killed me. Then I began to lose my few friends. I was truly alone. Oh this really messed the me up, I broke down. Just before I got over the blow, when I was 14, my dog died, truly my only friend left, worst of all, it was the my first experience with death. This feeling was new, it could not be described. The only way I could put it, it is as if all the joy, laughter, and warmth was taken away all in on breath, an in the next, it was replaced with a heaviness. Then fire, rolling up from the gut to the eyes, and heating me up, while at the same time, a great cold takes in my lungs and heart. I did not want to feel this ever again, but I did when my granny and uncle died that year. I needed help, so I sought out my mother, who was always there for me, except now. You see, my mom had made a new friend and I got no attention from her. I lost it. All of my emotions drove me crazy, the armor was broken, I was vulnerable. At the age of 16, something happened, I became cold, mean, most importantly, I became excessively sarcastic. It was not my fault I was this way, sarcasm was truly my last refuge.
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