Cockatoo Diary 3.

I saw a man beat himself to a near death today. He was hitting himself with whatever he could reach - everything from sticks and stones to his own fists and even flinging himself against walls and the ground.

Apparently, his whole family had just been murdered and he just went mad.

But watching him abuse himself that way reminded me of my own little memory - of when I was a mere child working at the ranch that I spent most of my formative years on. I was an orphan child and the ranch owner took me in as an errand boy.

The rest of the help who were much older used to pick on the smaller ones - like I was when I was just taken in. We were made to do all the jobs the older ranch hands were too lazy to do. And if anything wasn't done, we'd get the blame. I was beaten constantly as punishment.

It happened so much, that for a long time I was actually scared.

One day, I knew that the ranch hands were coming for me. I was sick of being afraid. So I stripped myself of all my clothes. I grabbed a whip and started whipping myself. I smashed my head against the walls. I flung myself onto the ground.

I felt numb - which was good. Because I wasn't afraid anymore. It was a liberating feeling.

By the time the ranch hands got to me. I was bleeding all over. Cuts and bruises covered my entire body. There I was, standing naked and grinning at them. It was the first time I ever felt so powerful. The ranch hands just looked at me, unable to say or do anything. And then they just left me.

They never laid a hand on me again.