Alright, so Emina made a thread in missions where you could email them with an excerpt from your life. The goal is for these passages to become a compilation, which will then become a book or ebook, hopefully. This thread is for anyone who wants to publish their stories on the BBS, either in conjunction with that thread, or if they choose not to contribute to that thread. This thread can also be used to ask others questions about their lives (though whether you get an answer depends on the individual). I'll start with my own (next post).

Time has this funny way of screwing with your head. That's my take on things, at least.

Looking back, I guess it's rather silly. In fact, I'd have to attribute it to the nature of youth. Recalling who I was when I was a small boy, and looking to the woman I am now, I can say that I never imagined my life would change so drastically, in what was truly a short amount of time. But I should probably start at the beginning. My name is Madeline Koller, and I am a transsexual.

My memory takes me to when I had first entered middle school, but perhaps it was even before that and I was just unaware at the time. I was your typical child; I worked hard in the classroom, played games with friends out in the schoolyard, then went home and hung out with those I knew in my neighborhood. While I had my share of challenges, I considered myself the same as anyone else. Still, something didn't quite feel right to me.

I had always been more attached to my female friends than to my male friends. I cared more about them, I related to them more, and overall I was happier when around them. While I still had some male friends, I just didn't relate as much. At that age, boys tend to get more competitive, yet I shied away from that nature; I simply couldn't understand it.

Being as studious as I was, I tried to turn to books for the answer. It was during the latter half of seventh grade that I stumbled on old folklore and the myth that "If you can lick your elbow, you will turn into a member of the opposite sex." It's silly to think that such a thing would be possible at all, but for some reason I wanted to cling to the idea; to feel, if only for a day, what it would be like to be a girl. I wanted to know what it'd be like to wear a dress, to try makeup, to feel beautiful, to express my emotions instead of having to be "tough" like most boys were supposed to act.

Of course, I knew these things would be strange to say to my parents and to my friends. Refusing to stir up scandal, I pushed the thoughts out of my mind, though it wasn't long before they surfaced again. Regardless of how hard I tried, I couldn't silence them after a time. This only served to deliver more and more confusion into my life. I became irritable, and this led to depression, which led to isolation. I didn't feel I could trust anybody with this curse I had to wear.

However, even with my best efforts to keep it a secret, I had to unveil the curtain on my situation eventually. And so I began the process of coming out. It is at this time in the story that I wish I could say I was accepted in open arms, but unfortunately acceptance didn't come until much later. While the best friend I came out to was somewhat understanding (herself being bisexual and knowing some of the pains I felt), my parents were less so. As I remember, it was the month I had entered high school.

My parents were shocked to say the least. My father couldn't understand it at all. My mother tried to respond positively, but on the inside, tried to convince herself that this was all a phase, that I would move on from it within a matter of weeks or months. And the more I insisted that it wasn't, the angrier they became at themselves, and at me. There were many arguments, many visits to counselors, and the command that I keep who I was a secret.

High School hadn't gotten any better. I started to get bullied by other males who made the assumption that I was simply gay, and that they could prey on a perceived weakness. This only served to make my depression worse. I started to self-harm. I turned to cybersex in order to keep from feeling lonely. I began to shut down in every way. And while I could put on a facade of happiness for a few years, eventually it all would come crashing to the ground.

My parents and I had yet another fight. This one was different, though; it was much more emotional, more heated. My parents had become sick of seeing me spiral out of control. Everyone was angry or sad, and many violent words were said. I was so broken at this point that I suddenly snapped. With all of my strength, I threw myself into the shelf that was next to me, hoping to crack my skull open, hoping to fall unconscious into the embrace of death.

And then, I looked up. Both my mother and my father had their hands holding onto my arms, and they pulled me toward them. I could see them crying, feel the pain in their voice when they witnessed me wanting, trying to end my life. A few days later, I had another suicide attempt, this time at school. Finally, with no other options, the decision was made to have me admitted to a mental hospital, in order to get the help that would keep me from destroying myself further.

Those five days completely changed my life.

During my stay, I was put in a group with other people my age, and there were social workers who would talk with us and get to know us better. And for the first time, I was able to be completely honest and express myself. There was a lot of curiosity by others, but overall I was accepted, and it was a wonderful feeling. Over the next few days, meeting with my psychiatrist, I unloaded all of the pain, sadness, and inner torment that had been locked within for so long. With that, I felt the largest weight lifted from my shoulders.

When I got to see my parents again, we had a group therapy session. For the first time in ages, I felt I could be myself around them. And they seemed a lot more open when they saw how much happier I was, having released the stress I had bottled inside. Thus they relented, and decided to trust me.

That was eighteen months ago from the time of this writing. Since then, I have graduated high school, started college, and begun my transition. Surprisingly, most of my friends from high school were accepting, albeit with much curiosity as to the process. Those who didn't agree with it were still good sports about it, and I've been able to live as a woman happily. With any luck, I can start on hormone therapy at the end of the year.

Now that I've told my story from start to finish, I can't help but notice how rapidly my transition occurred, in comparison to everything else in my life. It was a small moment in its own way, and yet it is one of the most significant. I can still remember all the times I spent as a boy; some moments happy, some sad. Of course, I know that years from now, those memories will likely fade, and my true self will be all that remains. It is what it is, I suppose.

Not that I mind. Spending the coming decades as the woman I've always dreamed of being is literally a dream come true for me. My only hope from here on out is that I have the time to enjoy this new life of mine. After all, time does have a funny way of screwing with your head.

I am completely speechless. This is beautiful. You are, with out a doubt, one of the strongest people I know. Thank you for sharing this with us, MKoller!

I believe I started to cry a bit while reading that story of your, MKOLLER.

>>4 Trust me, I cried too when I was writing it, particularly when I had to talk about the suicide attempt.

You're a good person, MK. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

I don't know if I want to craft a story tonight or tomorrow.

:U wow mk, u sure be spajazzley :O IN A GUD WAY

well peepoh, dont just talk about MK, write yer own storyyyyyy 8D and.....i won't becuz im in the opens....IM IN DER VULNERABLES.

Pfft. I don't have a story! I'm too young, 13 years going on 14~

>>8 Everyone has a story, even if it's only beginning.

Wow MKOLLER, your story is So...Inspirational.Thank you so much for sharing it.

I'm bumping this.

>>12 Awfully hated indeed. I'm not gonna rage at you, given that everyone is always entitled to their own opinion, and I don't really have the right to rage at you since it's not my life that you don't like. Anyhow, this is how the modern world is, there are people like that everywhere, you're going to have to deal with it eventually. Reading your comment gave me the impression that you're mind is about the same as a Christian house-wife that's spreading an anti-gay marriage petition by text.

I'm surprised Live 2 Die is even on the internet. From what he has spouted, he gives off the feeling that he's someone who'd join the Westboro Baptist Church, going all "THIS IS THE DEVIL'S WORK, BURN."

... Actually, for all we know, he could just be doing that, but under the radar.

Anyways, going off topic. I'd post my story... But then, I got lazy. Derp.

>>12 See, opinions are really funny things. Some of them are positive, some are negative, and some are in-between. No matter what branch a person's opinion falls under they all have at least one thing in common. There will be a group of people who dislike your opinion and find it absolutely unnecessary. Let me start by saying that I fall into that group when it comes to your opinions, not just on this matter but your opinions in general. I believe everyone is entitled to their own opinions and should have every right to express how they feel on any topic or subject. So I won't hold back from telling you my personal opinions on you and your opinions.

To me, your opinions show that you are a weak person. In the grand scheme of things, do you really think that we should be worrying about a person's sexuality and what body they are most comfortable in? Is letting something so simple divide people really going to advance our species? The answer should be clear. You are a hindrance to advancement. It's of my humblest opinion that you have absolutely no right to exist. You are the former state of human evolution. You're not really needed but time hasn't been kind enough to let you die out. You do nothing to contribute to the human race because you're too busy nitpicking trivial matters.
Of course, as I said, people should always be free to express their views on things. So don't misunderstand what I have said. I am not trying to change your views. I'm not trying to get you to hold back on your opinions either.

I don't know why, but I get the feeling Live 2 Die is a wannabe troll.

... Oh wait, he is. Apparently. He made a thread once about... Grammar. Or some shit. And then he failed. Or succeeded. Or something, I don't even know. meh.

>>17 Pfffft. Damn trolls.

>>12 Live2Die, you are free to think whatever it is you want to think. It doesn't matter to me in the end. But I will point out that what you said is incredibly short-sighted. You're judging based on pre-conceived notions of what you believe a transsexual is, rather than judging my actions both in life and on this BBS.

Transsexuals get a bad rep because the media oversexualises us. We are made out to be nothing more than prostitutes and perverts. I want to point out that this is incorrect. There are many transsexuals who, like me, make it our goal to live fulfilling lives.

Right now, I am a student at Oregon Institute of Technology, pulling a cumulative 3.43 GPA in Geospatial Analysis. I have friends who support me and family members who are proud of the person I have become, despite the anguishes I have faced in my life. And to top it all off, in five days I will be attending an engineering conference in Seattle to give a speech on the ethics behind information sharing in industry. Needless to say, I have a life full of honor, dignity and respect.

Live2Die, what do you have?

>>19 Hooyah to that! BTW I wanted to say that im proud of you being able to fight for what makes you happy. It doesn't matter what people say; in the end the only one who should decide whats good and bad is yourself.

>>19 I really do admire just how easily you shrug off all the criticism you receive.

We should really stop derailing the thread, shouldn't we? (；´Д｀)

>>21 Takara...get to writing your story. >_>

>>22 I started writing it... But some of the things I put in it are really personal, so I'm trying to get rid of some of the details in it so that I don't give too much away about my family.

>>25 Same here :\ I'm not sure how much I should/shouldn't say, you know?

>>23 I was going to argue that sex changes aren't selfish but then I looked up the definition. Now I quite agree with you. They are indeed selfish, but not in a bad way that selfishness is often associated with. Barabi, you'd hate it too if you were something you're not, like in MKOLLER's case, the boy she was. Whether it's selfish or not, no matter how expensive it is, you'd change yourself as well. Because you can't stand the way you are.

I'm sorry, but I find you quite hypocritical. "Spending money on a sex change is a selfish way to make yourself feel better when that money could have gone towards helping someone or something else." Do you not cosplay? Is not cosplay something that is pointless, self-centered, and just makes yourself feel better? If it is not, please do correct me. You could quit selfishly cosplaying and donate your money to a charity instead. Cosplaying is not the only thing people are selfish about. The most common thing is aesthetically pleasing clothes. You worry about selfish, pointless, self-centered things so much? Why don't you just put on a blanket and donate the money you would otherwise have spent on better looking clothes.

>>27 A sex change costs a lot more than a ten dollar outfit. I can't afford to be selfish. I go to second hand stores and buy old curtains and bedsheets to make my own costumes; I don't buy them. I can't spend more than three to five dollars on any one article of clothing, and I haven't had a new piece of clothing in many years. I have to work for my money to get anything I want. I sit here and eat food bank food that doesn't taste like anything, my mom only able to get decent food once a month. When I can afford to donate to charities, I do. I've helped run several charities before, getting nothing in return. When I do have spare change, I alway donate it. If I actually had a decent amount of money, I wouldn't spend it on changing my gender. I would spend it on helping my family out and trying to make life better for those around me.

You'll see from my own story that I went through the same thing MKOLLER did for a while, just the opposite way. I always felt like a boy in a girl's body. However, I embraced that and became who I am today. I couldn't afford to change myself, and I ended up just fine. Even if I could afford, it though, there are so many better things that that money could have gone to.

I'm can't go to movies. I can't go shopping. I can't buy make-up or new clothes. I can't buy bikes and skateboards and videogames. I can't do or get any of that shit that people waste their money on. Therefore, don't even try to play that card. I may be a hypocrite with other things, but this isn't one of them. I'm far from selfish.

Study up on who you're talking to before you start judging them, Kanna.

There are so many holes in your argument it's not even funny.
When I first read your comment I literally thought Are you fucking kidding me. You really didn't need to share your opinion on what you think about MK. Why would you even. Honestly, it just amazed me.

I really, REALLY only wanted to post with my own story... But sadly I feel I must say something else first.

>>24>>28 I'd like to point out that this thread is for sharing your personal story and asking questions about the stories of others'.

You did neither. You gave your opinion in a manner that was very out of line and uncalled for. Not only were you off fucking topic, but you didn't even so much as fucking consider anybody's personal experience with the matter.

If you're going to continue arguing off-topic and (speaking mostly for myself here, since I can't read anybody else's mind) speaking in an abrasive, offensive manner, I'm going to kindly ask you to go get hit by a fucking truck.

This is not the place for your childish opinions, this is an environment to share your story and answer questions that others have about it.

Re-railing this and no-longer contributing to the silliness above, I give you my not-so-sad life story:

Right where I am now, I'm in a good spot. All of my worries are the same as your average person: I need to find a job, I'm figuring out what to do with schooling (should I so choose to continue on to college), I live with my mother. Standard normality.

To get here, however, was a different story.

For most of my childhood, nothing really felt out-of-place. I was good friends with (most of) the neighborhood kids; we would hang out and play Pokemon and play all of the classic backyard games during summer or when we weren't in school. It was all fun and games then, nobody had any real problems. We all did well in school. We all got along, save for the normal childhood squabbles.

I suppose that all took a turn when we got to Middle School. My best friend at the time, Josh, was far more extroverted than I ever was (or will be, for that matter). He went around and made friends with anything that had a pulse, and it was nice to wingman with him and meet people.

I never would have guessed at the time that those people were the ones that would be the hardcore drug-abusers of our school.

That was year 7. Year 8 only moved that forward. Right about then, I started to get self-conscious about myself. I took everything at face value, and held myself to be lesser than those around me. This was particularly strange, because I also felt I was better than everyone else. I dreaded interacting with people from day-to-day; but I wasn't bullied much. I had no confidence in myself. At some point, one of the preppier girls suggested that I would look better if I grew my hair out. So I did. I wanted to look nice, to be attractive to girls. For whatever reason, I was extremely lonely.

After a while, it started to eat at me. It got so bad that at one point, I stood alone in my kitchen with a knife to my chest. I sat there for an hour, alone. I'm still unsure of what convinced me otherwise, but I guess I remembered something that made life worth living. Whatever it was, I'm glad it came to me.

So I continued on living and being lonely. That feeling got progressively worse, and eventually I convinced myself that I had a split personality disorder, or some variant of schizophrenia. I would talk to these imaginary people in my head, thinking that they were separate entities, and looking up to them. I even thought that they were better than I was. I went to them for answers to everything, from how to talk to people to how to get to school faster.

Eventually, myself and these two "others" that lived in my head began to show ourselves to people I knew. Now, for most people this would result in an immediate report and a trip to a psychiatrist. Unfortunately, these people were the future Wiccans and drug-abusers. They fed off of my self-induced mental disorders, treating them like stories and spirits of some kind.

My family had no idea about any of this. Rather, they continued to raise me well. I don't know how to thank them for that, but I should. They had been instilling good virtues in me for years. That work paid off.

After a while, those "friends" (sadly, this included Josh) began to get into drugs. A combination of asthma and the virtues my parents taught me saved me from that fate, and I began to see what kinds of people I had been hanging out with. I hated it. I held them in great disdain for being weak enough to fall prey to such stupid things.

Watching them fall below even where I was standing, I started to become self-aware. I saw that I had been lying to myself, and all of the false schizophrenia disappeared within weeks. I was no longer Me + Me + Me, I was just Me.

With that, I had bumped into some really cool guys at the local lasertag building. The place was hosting an event, and I paid for a ticket. Several friends (not the afforementioned future-drug-abusers) had invited me to tag along.

They bailed on me.

But these three guys, man they were great. I had never met them before, but they saw that I was alone and invited me to hang out with them instead. Naim, Ty, David. I found out that they were going to be juniors in the same highschool that I was going to be a freshman in, and they told me where I could find them during school.

So summer passed, and school started. I went to the spot they named, and there they were with their full-scale flashmob crew of friends. It was there that I met Spike. I have to say, I owe the success in my career choice entirely to Spike. About two months in to school, he asked me for a hand in the theatre after school.

With nothing to do but play videogames at home and do homework, I accepted. I was put straight to work, and asked to work the entire show with them. Within a week, I was working my first-ever Hell Week with the crew. There were so many people there that I just loved that I wish I could remember all of there names. They showed me another world, and I loved it.

School was pretty normal after that. I had a really amazing group of friends that were extremely loyal to one another. I had something that I absolutely loved doing. I had places to go after school to just hang out. I even made two trips to the Smokey Mountains with these people, both of which were borderline life changing. The bonds that I had with them after those trips were immense, and we all still have them today. Most of them are off working in the field or are in college now, but we're still like a family.

I also met a guy named Nikolai. I can't remember how, but we hit it off as good friends. He ended up getting involved as a technician through me, and loved it enough to suggest we join a training program together. So we both signed up. However, we were months out from actually starting in the program. We worked several shows together, learning more about each other as we went along. I met his family, who are extremely faithful christians. Normally I wouldn't be comfortable with that, but they were very accepting of me. I became like a second son to them, and still hold good relations with them to this day. During one show, we had a falling out due to extreme disagreements in our work ethics. I had been staying with him at the time, and I just up and left. His parents called frantically to make sure everything was fine, since I was walking through a pretty shady neighborhood to get out. This was the first (and so far the ONLY) time I ever had to call my mother for a "Don't ask me what happened, just get me out of here" situation.

At some point in the mix of all of that, my parents got divorced. For most people that's a painful process, but I saw it coming four years before it happened. They argued a bit more than normal, and there were dagger-glares every night. In the end they settled on a mature 50/50 custody agreement. It didn't bother me any, as I liked them both equally at the time.

After a few months of that, though, my dad's behavior began to change. He was becoming more manipulative, becoming a dictator. Everything was his way or the high way. I tried to sit down and talk things out with him several times, at his request, in an attempt to maturely resolve the situation. In my final attempt, he exploded into complete rage.

At that point, I chose the highway over his way. I left his house to avoid too much stress while I worked my first-ever stage managing position (which Nikolai would have had, but his behavior at the time got him knocked from a powerful position). That made sense to him; his son didn't want to have to focus on two high-stress situations at once.

At the end of the show, I asked my mother to let me live with her permanently. Living with her was significantly easier. She is more like a good friend and careful listener than she is a parent; she trusts me and works to maintain both of our happiness instead of just her own vision of a "perfect household." She knows that we will never live a perfect life, and we're all okay with that. That one difference made things so much better. I thoroughly enjoyed (and still do) living with her.

One week after that decision, I sat down with my dad one last time to discuss why I wanted to leave. He took notes about what I was saying, and we left the restaurant quietly afterwards. One week following, he called me. "All of the reasons you gave me were bullshit." After that statement, he cut me off from everything. He turned my phone off, he removed me from any insurance plan he could legally get away with, and stopped contributing to the costs of feeding me.

It's been just over a year since that happened. Over the last six months, my mother and I moved in with her parents. She is no longer working, and has gone back to school to finish a degree. We've been living off of monthly checks since then, and I'm genuinely worried about having enough gas to get to school. I no longer have the money to do things I enjoy, I no longer have the money to pay for food, I no longer have the money to pay for gas to reach an education, and I'm missing part of my family unit.

But none of this bothers me.

At some point I wound up with a revelation. I figured out what I value most in life, what I want to do with myself. I realized that a career is only means to an end, and that money has no place in my heart. With that alone, I've been able to push through going from upper-middle class to near-fucked poverty, and maintain a true smile.

I'm not bothered by my situation at all. Actually, I'm probably one of the happiest people I know of ^_^'

My story isn't exactly a sad one, and my retelling is missing many details, and a few bits are out of order. But this is (mostly) what made me who I am today, and I'm glad all of the pieces fell the way they did.

>>31 I never once said what I thought of MK. I said what I thought of the practice itself, and I said that I found his story inspirational.

>>32 I wasn't trying to start an arguement, and I wasn't trying to be offensive.

Sorry if I stepped on any toes; it wasn't intentional.

>>35 Correction: The only thing about MK I said was that I thought he/she was intelligent and had good opinions.

>>33 - >>34 I have to say I respect how you've been able to follow your dreams, and how you can remain optimistic through the hard times. I feel that in time you'll accomplish even bigger things, and be able to make a great living for yourself and your mother.

Do you think you'll ever reconnect with your father?

Alright, out of 37 posts we have two stories... And almost 34 posts worth of people bitching at others.

Live2Die was a troll, I have no idea what bambi said because she deleted her post - But she's not the type to just blatantly offensive, and her explanation implies that she wasn't even talking about MKOLLER; much less attacking her.

So everything, and I mean everything.. with the exception of Reilyx's story... from post 16 on (because we are aware live2die was a troll by then), is bitching. About something. About someone.

What the hell, guys?

As much as this thread isn't supposed to be about attacking individuals for their life story, it's also not about derailing the entire goddamn thing because you take issue with someone else's comment or opinion.

Especially Anonymous. Did you actively read what was said and then turn around to interpret it as "Well that was stupid and I'm disappointed MKOLLER did that instead of donated to charity" ? Did you then, after seeing an excerpt of why bambi said what she said (whatever it was), turn around and with full knowledge of the kind of life she leads and what she meant...

Try and imply her argument was full of holes?

What argument? Fucking what holes?! There is no argument, there is no debate, there is you being an ass over an opinion she held that did not even line up with MKOLLER as an individual - Someone she even stated to like and find inspirational. Fuck, who doesn't like MKOLLER?

And Reilyx - What the fuck.

After literally all of the above, you felt it necessary to step in and then fuss at her for contributing her opinion?

"gave your opinion in a manner that was very out of line and uncalled for. Not only were you off fucking topic, but you didn't even so much as fucking consider anybody's personal experience with the matter."

And you made a point to further derail the topic by attacking her as well. Did you bother to consider her personal experience on the matter? What made her come to those beliefs?

Did you stop, even once, and go maybe she's not trying to be an ass. Maybe we're overreacting or misinterpreting something that got said?

You asked her to go get hit by a truck due to derailing the topic and arguing in an abrasive manner. Did you read your own post? From where I'm standing, you and Anonymous seem to be prime candidates to walk right out in the road with her. You condemn and ignore her explanations, you preach about personal experience then flagrantly ignore her own which brought her to that opinion, and you persecute her over apparently insulting MKOLLER when she's actively said that she meant nothing of the individual and purely about the practice.

Not a place for your childish opinions... indeed.

It's also not a place for everyone else's childish bickering.

What the fuck is wrong with you people, to go almost 40 posts into a thread about life stories and have only two stories here? To spend almost all of it being overly aggressive little kids?

God. Dammit.

>>38 I'm really not sure what to say. You're right, of course; this entire thread turned into a clusterfuck with the accusations and then with the white-knighting involved. If I may point out some things?

I don't think Live2Die was a troll. I expect people to believe the way he or she does; that's simply life. And while it is sad that he or she "lost all respect" for me because of my life choices, it's not that big a deal. My philosophy is "Live and let live, live and let die." Basically, people can believe what they wish, and I won't let those beliefs stand in my way. The grilling Live2Die received wasn't entirely necessary.

And Barabi, I don't know what you wrote; I logged in after you deleted your post. But my impression is that you like my character, even if you find my desire to change my body a bit too materialistic. That's OK. But you need to remember that I have another goal in life, and that is to use what I learn in university studies to help others. Everyone deserves to be a little selfish so long as they match that selfishness with selflessness.

Reilyx, your intentions were on the right track, but you didn't have to get as angry as you did, especially not for my sake. However, you did "re-rail" the conversation, so I thank you.

Ayanavi, if nothing else, can you forgive the people in this thread? I'm sure nobody involved wanted this to happen; if we can get past this then we can surely start seeing more good content come about.

>>39 No, Live2Die was actually a troll. I don't mean that in the "he trolled this thread", I mean he has been identified and categorized as a troll in other threads sometime ago.

Insertnamehere could probably give you a better recounting of it - But he's not exactly an unknown element that showed up and disagreed. He's had a reputation of trolling established beforehand.

>>37 I have extreme doubts about reconnecting with my father. I started off taking the "mature" route; I never set out to fight with him, I chose my words carefully, and I made an effort to talk things out with a level head rather than charge in via typical teenage fashion.

Even through all of my efforts, he saw fit to cut me off entirely. At this point, I no longer hold a desire to "maturely" deal with the situation. If he wishes to make amends, he can repay me for the financial shitstorm I've been stuck in because of him.

And I hope you're right - I'd like to be able to contribute something to society. It's on my very short list of things to accomplish before someone gets fed up with me and puts some lead between my eyes ^_^

Seeing as the majority of this thread seems to be bitching and arguing and there are only two stories, I'll enter in my share as soon as I can think of something. My life is uneventful and this will take a long, long, looooooonnnngggg, time.

Anyway

>>41 I think that it was great to take the mature route, however I think you should keep trying with this method, if you like, harden up ten fold. Personally I think your father is being immature for trying to dictate your life and your money, and I hope that you'll be able to resolve this. I'm surprised you've kept an optimistic gaze at what you've been through, and I'm actually a bit envious about that. (I will crack under one insult. T^T)

>>42 I really, really want to take the mature route. But at the same time, I don't feel like it would be right to give him a "free pass" after causing so much damage. He can either pay for his fuckup, or he won't speak to his son again... Ever. Personally, I have no qualms leaving him entirely. I don't feel family ties like most people, so there's no obligation for me to stay and deal with a dumbass.

As for staying 'optimistic,' that's mostly just been the last 6 months where that's REALLY true. Before whatever came over me 6 months ago, I was just a "drone." I had career aspirations, but that was it. "I want to go to college and get X degree so I can become the bestest evar at X job! :D" But that really wore at me after a while. Now I have some more personal goals to go through with; things that I find may very well be worth biting the bullet over. Nothing feels quite the same as having a goal you feel is worth dying over. You see things from an entirely different light. Mine happens to be optimistic ^_^

I'm sorry if my story jumps around. I'm not very good at organizing something like this. There were just so many different things to tell ><

My father is an abusive alcoholic. On multiple occasions, my brother and I were almost killed by his drunken outbursts. My mother was periodically beat. To avoid being hit, we would have to pretend to be asleep when he came home drunk. Even then, he would stand over the bed and stare for hours or until he passed out. My brother really had it harder than me, though. He spent almost nine years with the man, every year having all of his presents destroyed, his Halloween candy given away, being called a disgusting failure every time he did something wrong, always having to hide. It is probably because of this that my brother became so much like him.

When I was almost four, my mother divorced him. We lived happily in a new town, visiting him on the weekends. My father was always very sweet after the divorce, giving us everything we wanted. We had a dog, Cleveland, who bit me often. I loved her anyway. My father lived in an apartment. My brother and I often played with the kid upstairs from us, trying to set things on fire by making sparks (turn a bike upside down, spin the back wheel, and slip a stick into the spokes). The kid upstairs had a small dog. One day, we accidentally let our dog out when the dog upstairs was on the staircase. Right in front of me, Cleveland tore it apart, ripping it into bloody shreds until my father finally stopped her. My father never even tried to move me out of the way or put me into another room. He let me sit there and watch them clean it up. Often, my father brought me to Newark; it was always a boring trip to me. I was too young to know what he was doing, but I assume now it was something shady. When we went to New York, it was magical. Newark? Not so much.

My father said he was going on vacation for a week several years ago. He ran to Arizona and never came back. He stayed nice for a while, sending us presents, calling us for our birthdays, et cetera. But recently, he just gave up. He said he wanted to be over with this part of his life and stopped contacting us. He stopped sending presents. I recently talked to him, telling him my opinion on him and how he treats us. He doesn't even send child support, and that's his only job. He said he'd call me back. A half hour later, he called me back, a drunken mess. I hung up on him and haven't talked to him since.

My brother legitimately hated me since birth. I don't know why; he thinks strangely. I was continuously being called fat and stupid. Almost everything I owned was eventually destroyed by him, from dolls to electronics. I would get locked in one of our closets when my mom wasn't watching. In the meantime, my mother had several shitty boyfriends. As much as I love her, her taste in men is absolutely horrid. She eventually married my current step father, who is mentally and emotionally abusive. He always added to the scream-offs against my brother. He was nice to me at first, but once my brother was kicked out, his radar turned to me. Every time I turn around, I'm being called shit. If I do anything wrong, he goes on for hours mumbling, “fucking cunt should go kill herself, she shouldn't be on this planet. Stupid, fat fucking immature little cunt,” over and over again. I've learned to deal with it. It pisses him off more, but smiling and saying, “Oh, thank you!” seems to give a short feeling of accomplishment ;T

Before I was like this, though, I was very thin skinned, as well as emotionally/physically sensitive. I've been pretty much bullied since birth. Kindergarten was the only year I was safe in school, but once I got out of school, I had to deal with my brother and his friends. From first grade to now, horrible rumours have spread about me through school. I've had several parties crashed and destroyed, as well as several items stolen and/or destroyed at school. I always tried very hard in school and tried to ignore them, though. I got involved with so many clubs, and I was so stressed out about everything that I developed a bad case of mononucleosis; I was out of school for several months because of it. According to my doctor, a lot of people have episteen bar in their system from birth, and it's activated by things like stress and over exertion later in life. Once you get mono, you can't get it again, but you can get fits of episteen bar every now and again, which is like a shorter version of mono. He said it was rare for a kid my age to get mono and I should take care of myself better.

Even since I was little, I had trouble communicating with people, especially girls. I didn't seem to have anything in common with girls. I hated the music they listened to, the games they played, the way they talked, the way they walked, they way they everything. There was only one friend I had who was a girl, and she gave up on me because I was 'being too childish'. (Ah-huh. Because we were seven and I still like to sing and play hide and seek. Don't even ask; it's all bullshit.) In general, I hung out with boys. We played sports and games and hung out, not caring about appearances or anything of the likes. I always felt so uncomfortable around girls, always being judged. I never once felt like a girl; I didn't want to compare myself to them. I dressed and acted like a boy to avoid them, cutting my hair like a boy, wearing shirts that made my chest less visible and baggy pants to hide my hips. This went on for many years, up until just recently, actually. I told my mom, “I feel like a boy in a girl's body,” and she yelled at me. She bought me more pink things and dresses and made me wear them, trying to get me to act more like a girl, scared that I was going to turn lesbian or change myself when I got older. I felt like a horrible person; I had done something that my mom didn't like, which I never did. I'm usually obedient. I always have been. My mom getting angry scared me so much that I had to hide who I was for a long time.

I look back on it now, and it seems like nothing. However, at that time, it was horrible. My self-confidence just plummeted then, and even worse so between ten and thirteen – basically, since my step father came around. I never thought about killing myself or cut myself, but that's because I never believed in self-harm. As the scream-offs got worse amongst my family members, I would hide in my room, tearing books apart and crying into my pillow. My self-esteem was so low I cried myself to sleep every night, wondering when everyone would just give up and leave me alone. I ended up deciding to put on a false-bravado, just to make myself happy for a year or two. I pretended to be strong. I purposely dressed bad and didn't mind my hygiene, saying I was happiest “being myself” and everyone was just “mean”. I got to the point where I felt emotionless, not caring about anyone or anything.

It was around this time that my brother 'accidentally' burned our house down – two days before Christmas. All of the presents were destroyed along with almost everything else we owned. He went to juvie for several months for it and various other charges that had finally gotten to court. I lost the majority if my things that I had collected over the years, but I still don't know what was thrown out. My mom wouldn't let me see what they were getting rid of; I still don't have a sense of closure about it. All I got to see was my brother's melted TV. I wanted to cry and grieve over losing so much, but I knew crying about something material wasn't as important as taking care of my mom. I shoved it all down into me and was smiley and happy for my mom. I would go, “Turn that frowny upside downy!” which was cheesy considering my age. Still, it worked. Everyone was a little more cheerful. I got a lot of things from donations from the police, fire department, students, school, et cetera. It was a big Christmas full of little things.

Once I got to intermediate school, I finally got a friend. Or, so I thought. She was always very annoying, but nobody else would talk to me. We were constantly in fights, and the more I hung out with her, the even less inclined I felt to try at school or pay attention to anything else. I was scared and felt like I couldn't do anything, and I just wanted to cling to the only person who was paying attention to me, even if she wasn't kind or mature. Whenever we got into a really bad fight, I would have to excuse myself because I got physically sick. The same happens to me now, unfortunately, but I've managed to control it better. Whenever my emotions are out of control, my body immediately gets sick in one way or another. I think it's like an unintentional escape mechanism; an excuse to stay away from everyone until my head settles itself.

It took about half a year after that point that it finally clicked. What the fuck am I doing? My life isn't that bad, and it's not that hard to fix it. My false-bravado had started to become more obvious to me. I started watching the news, and I realized that my life wasn't that hard. I felt selfish, immature, and stupid thinking that I had the worst life. Everything seemed so much simpler. Rather than act strong, why not be strong? I decided to prove everyone wrong about me. I had never been overweight, so “fat” comments didn't bother me (how can something you know is a lie bother you?), but I paid special care for my appearances and health anyway. I tried harder in school. I read more outside of school and educated myself on things. I joined clubs and tried harder to help my friends. I set goals. I worked on improving in everything. I had started to actually like dresses, so I kept wearing them. My mom was happy, and I was happy. Because she got me into dressing like a girl, I realized how many interesting things you can do with dresses. I love to design now; when I look at the end results, it always feels like magic just happened. I still can't deal with girls as well as I can deal with guys, though, and I always feel lost in conversations with them. Aside from my closest friends, girls don't like me, because I just can't get into talking with them. I'm shy and quiet around girls, while I'm much more loud and comfortable with guys. And I still think tits are a useless extra thirty pounds nobody needs to be carrying around >|

I cut it off with the 'friend' I had been clinging to and got real friends who I could trust. Again, there were problems. I'm still friends with these girls, but I can't hang out with them for long periods of time. They were close long before they met me, and it never seemed like I could get into their friendship. I was invited to everything, but it seems like that was only because they had to invite me. They ended up being lesbian and dating each other; I just wanted to give up. The one time I had found friends, they turned out whole relationship into a three way drama bomb. I had to take sides in everything. I finally walked away and said they had to figure it out themselves; they could come back to me once they're settled. They eventually broke up, and I periodically hang out with them separately. From them, though, I met my current closest friends. We're not even friends; we're broskis. It's only because of them that I'm as stable as I am right now. I've had boyfriends, but now I just don't see the point. I'm fine with just being happy in life. I'm not so hormonal that I need to have sex. I'm one of those weirdos who's happy being a virgin ;O

Oh, I should say this somewhere in here. I get sick a lot in general. I have a very weakened immune system. When I get sick, I get very sick, although recently I've had a lot of little things. I know that I have a lot of bad quirks in my body and health, but we can't afford to go the doctor. Well, my mom doesn't usually bring me to the doctor in general. She doesn't believe in them, in a way. My body just isn't well. I constantly have headaches and migraines. I don't really know how to explain the other things. It's all just been going on for so long. We're pretty sure that I'm not going to live long, so I just want to make the best out of what I can, you know? I want to make as big of an impact and help as many people as I can with the time I have.

Four things really helped me get through my emotional shit – my dog, art, nature, and my mom's store. Chief was my second dog aside from Cleveland. He was stupid and adorable. I found that he was really 'human-like', if you can say that. He always seemed to understand what we were saying. If someone tried to yell and scream or hit anybody, he would get angry and bark and growl. Once they stopped, he would drag us to the couch and just lecture us. It wasn't quite barking or whining – sort of inbetween. He stopped so many fights, and he was always there when I was sick or sad. He was the most sympathetic dog I had ever met. He passed away last year. We have two dogs now, but they just ignore our fights. Fights still happen; I sit with them at the end of the hallway, holding their ears, and we just wait for the screaming to be done.

I love art of every kind. Whether it be visual art or performing art. Whenever I'm not feeling well, I turn to drawing and writing to get out whatever is in me. Baton twirling and singing always help settle me when I'm uneasy; they're just relaxing, as strange as that sounds. Everyone has some sort of hobby they can turn to, and that's mine. When my mom's friend passed away, I made a patterned hand for his mother that had the name of all her kids on the fingers, him in the middle. I didn't want to give it up since it came out so well, but I know it's in good hands. (Pffft. Dat pun.) Whenever someone isn't well, I make them a picture to cheer them up. It may sound weird, but I think art is sort of therapeutic.

My friend's dad ran something called The Gatherer Institute. I joined in, and it was just amazing. We spend the summer working in the woods. A lot of what we do raises money for the kids' sports on the river side or just goes to varying charities in general. We host games in the woods. Everything is very fun and natural. It just helped bring out the best in me. I feel so much more at home in the woods and traveling around, helping people. When I need to get out of my house, I go and sit in the woods, building forts, writing, and watching the birds. It's just the place I prefer to be.

My mom's store was amazing. Through it, I got to meet hundreds of absolutely amazing people. I heard many great stories, and I learned how to communicate with people. I had always had trouble communicating naturally with adults because I was overly respectful. I followed every little rule I had ever been taught about talking with people. It's good, but it makes talking 'real' difficult. People are more laid back than GS likes to think. Nonetheless, I learned to be with people and understand things. Our store at the Manahawkin Market was destroyed in a fire (fire follows this story, if you haven't noticed). Without insurance, we were put back a lot of money. However, I was strong now. I again raised my mom's feelings and we made a new one with a normal store front. It stayed there for several years before we ran out of money.

When I was younger, my mom had plenty of money. She had a high paying job. Still, I didn't ask for much. I just wanted what I needed and a few toys. This helped me later on; she lost her job. She found a few short ones, but they wouldn't hold out. Her store was the last chance to get any sort of money. Once we were so broke we couldn't afford the store front, we had to rely on my step-father's money, and he is very irresponsible with it. He would go out and spend thousands of dollars a time buying stupid shit we don't need and then yell at my mom when we didn't have enough money for food. He isn't making that much now, though, because so much is being deducted from his check for child support. He's had over three wives before us. He has kids, but he ignores them. He cut off from all his family. Now that I've lived with him this long, I sure as hell know why, but we need his income. Once my mom makes enough money to pay the bills, we agreed he's getting kicked the fuck out.


Well, what about my father? Shouldn't he be paying child support? To be frank, he never did, aside from a hundred dollars every other month or so. It didn't matter when my mom had money, but when she got laid off, we needed it. He's over forty thousand dollars in arrears with his child support. We've gotten to the point where we have to rely on food banks for food and presents. For Christmas, I was lucky if I got a sketchbook and a pen or two. I always get clothing from Goodwill, garage sales, and church donations. For my costumes for Christmas and conventions, I collect sheets and curtains and old clothes as materials (again, from the same places I get my clothes from). My mom bought a really nice sewing machine back when we had money, so I use it to make whatever I need. I can usually borrow shoes and hats from my friends, so it's all good. There's a possibility that the house is going to get foreclosed on soon, but we're trying to work it out with the bank.

My mom just recently got promoted to supervisor at her job, so she'll be making a bit more money. I can't wait until we get to have cookies and juice back in the house >u< I'm at the best I can be right now. My confidence is high and my ego is steady. The moral of the story? Make good with what you got, 'cuz your life isn't all that bad. It all gets better in time ;O

MKOLLER...I am very sorry. I did not type that, I swear. My friend just found out about the Dollars and he knows my username. If you dont believe me, fine. But, I am just telling the truth. I apologize for what he said. Sorry for ANY misunderstanding.

>>2 (This is the real me speaking) I liked your story. To be honest, I have nothing against homosexuals, transsexuals, or anything of the like. I will say that I am not exactly FOR anything like that, but I have absolutely NO hatred or dislike towards them. So, like I said earlier, Im very very very sorry.

Barabi, I want to say that I was very moved by your story. The way you were able to up and pull yourself together makes you incredibly strong, not to mention you were able to direct that energy toward taking care of others.

I now don't even want to post my story just because I would seem like a pussy compared to BarabiSama.
BarabiSama, you've had such a terrible life, yet you always think the best of the things and stay strong.You're amazing.

>>44 Bunny Bra, You inspire me, you really do. No matter what knocks you down, you just get back, all the more determined. You are such a strong person.

I can relate a bit too. My father used to beat me. badly. I very regularly had visits to the hospital. He was always drunk, and he took a liking to hit me with a crutch. I don't know, maybe I'll post my story.

>>49 >>50 >>51 :'O Well... inspiring people is the goal of this thread. I love you guys lol

Rolling Girl: I've seen your story in Personal. Post it with your current progress; I think it really will help inspire people to get back up.

Weems: Because I was the youngest of the family, I was never seriously hit by my father. However, when he got drunk, there was never any telling what he would do; by accident or by purpose, he could kill you with one good hit. He's not as bad of an alcoholic as he used to be (or so I'm told by his Arizonian relatives), but I still wouldn't trust myself alone with him considering how pissed he is at me, and vice-versa. I'm really curious about your story, Weems, but you don't have to post it if you're not comfortable with it being out there. It definitely feels weird publically exposing your past like this :V

>>52 I think I will. If there are people like you who are strong enough to expose themselves like this, then so can I. It might take a bit to get it down.

Bump.
You guys should share your stories :V

Alright lets do this.


My parents are Alcoholics. We didn't have much money, so we used to live in the projects. I hate thinking back to it, but man, there was some messed up shit going down there. But I'll get to that. Anyways, since I was an only child, he would take all his frustration out on me, and occasionally my mother. I checked with my mother, and between the ages of 4-11, I went to the hospital 18 times because my life had been in danger. I learned to fear him, and would often avoid him at all costs. And when I realized that I couldn't hide from him, I started to try and fight him.Now fighting a grown man when you're 8 is pretty stupid, but I thought that it was my only option. And him being a drunk helped a bit. If I got a good enough hit, he would be knocked out cold.

The neighborhood was awful too. There was always police sirens, and fights happening. I really don't want to go into what I saw, but I will say somethings that I remember vividly. Some kids buried a cat so only its head was sticking out of the ground, and decapitated it with a lawnmower. Thinking back its truly revolting, but back then I thought nothing of it.

When I became 11, My father left us. He went down to Florida to live with his parents, and left without a word. It was one of the best days of my life. My mom started to sober up after this, and we got out of the projects. I think the real reason we left was because a man was murdered outside our house. So we moved in with my uncle, a man who never touched alcohol. If anyone deserves thanks, it's him. if he had allowed booze into his house, I don't think my mom would have been able to stay sober.

So my mother went out and got a well paying job. After living 2 years at my uncles house we moved out and got a place of our own. It was about this time I started 7th grade. I hated it, because I'm a very anti-social person. I felt like everybody was judging me and that I was hated by everybody. So on January 8th, 2007, I tried to commit suicide. I tried to hang myself, and almost succeeded. A classmate who I had been working on a project with decided that he was going to come over to my house and that we would finish the project. I had no idea he would come over, or that he would save my life.

I woke up in a hospital, the same one that my father had sent me to so many times ago. And there he was, along with my mom. My Dad was sitting next to my bed, Crying. Apparently my mom had called him when I tried to off myself, and he rushed back to me. In his time in Florida, he had been working on getting sober, and he was. He begged me to forgive him, and told me that he was going to move back up to be closer to me.

And the kid who saved me, he became my best friend. Without Andrew, I wouldn't be here right now. I realized how selfish I had been and how much I had to live for. Everyday I remind myself what I have. And I am forever grateful that my dad quit drinking. I love him now, and am glad that I got the chance to actually know him.

Sorry that my writing skills are meh.

Hm. Story of my life...? Well I haven't lived much of my life yet.. But.. I'll try to remember.

It started when I was young. I was the middle child in my family, so no one really cared what I did.

My family was full of rednecks and drunkards, so there was always fighting going on, and I would constantly run out of the house into the nearest forest or corn field -those two options were more of my home than my actually house-, and, when running out of the house wasn't an option, my cousin would always cover my eyes or ears.

I lived in a small town, with lots of my family in it.. We would constantly be visited by relatives.. and most of the time, someone would start something... and sometimes, my cousin wouldn't be there to protect me, and I'd be in the middle of everything..

When me and my mom, dad, and my two sisters finally moved out of that town into this one I'm in right now... things kinda go better. Untill I hit middle school, that is.

In middle school, every single one of the "friends" I had kinda abandoned me, when I started to "chase" after a guy that ended up not liking me. It left me broken for alittle while, and when I needed someone to be there for me, no one was.

And then, this stupid game broke out in my grade.. They called it "Shelby germs." Where, if they touched me anywhere, they would get a these imaginary germs and the only way to get rid of them, was to pass them on to someone else. There was a way to prevent getting them too, just cross your fingers.

So, people would grope me and then pass on the stupid germ thing -I was constantly shoved around too- Most of the time, I would come home with brusies, but I wouldn't say anything... Cause I thought it would drop.

That game lasted two years.

They bullied me in other ways, like shove me around, and call me names, and other shit like that.

I put walls up around myself, and stop talking to everyone, even teachers. When they would call my name, I would just pretend like I didn't hear them. I stayed that way from 6th grade to 8th grade.

In seventh grade though, some people did try to help me out.. They did this whole anti-bullying thing for afew months.. Then summer vacation came and people stopped trying.

Eight grade... Had to have been the most stress full year of my life so far. In the first part of the year, during cheerleading season, I was just sitting off to the side, writing something down for my story, waiting for practice to start.. When some girl on the other side of the room breaks her ankle... She blamed me. And then, this whole rumor came out that I was had this "kill list" and that I was going to come and kill everyone that was on it.

I had no such thing, I don't even get it to this day why I was blamed for that.

More shit happened.. and by the end of eight grade, I had tried to kill myself more than six times. I hated life, and wished for the planet to burn in flames.

Uhm, I skipped something... it's actually kind of important.

Me and my older sister never got along very good, and we constantly fought, she would always beat me though, cause I was smaller and much weaker. So I got ever more prudent brusies from her.

Well, one time, when she was watching me while my little sister, my mom, and my dad had gone out shopping, I guess I wasn't listening to her very good... and she went into the kitchen and got a knife. She threatened to kill me with it if I didn't start listening to her. I imidently ran to my room, locked the door, and hid in the closet.

She moved out alittle after I started high school.

High school wasn't bad, although I was pretty much alone for the first... month. I had no one that would try to communicate with me.

And then I joined P.A.C.E. and met my friend Michael, he brought me to his group of friends and I haven't been alone since. Mike helped me in ways that I don't think he'll understand. I actuallly used to like him, and... then I found something out.

Michael had been gay for three years. Damnitt. All the perfect ones are gay.

Hm. Let's see. Around October or November of this year, my Dad had a heart attack. He went to the hospital and we are still paying that bill.

My family has never been good with money. We have never had alot of it, so me and my sister never got the coolest clothes, or the recent technology.. And I was fine with that. I mean, I didn't really need that stuff, did I?

But, when these people came to live with us, they had all sorts of cool new stuff and would always strut it around, but never let me see it for even a minute. So me and then weren't always on good terms either.

That's the thing with me. I make enemies way too quickly, wherever I go.

But... I guess that's all I have time to write right now... So...

The story of my life may not be as dramatic as others. Some may think that I have it good. From the outside it looks like everything is wonderful. But that’s not really the case.

I was born in Newport News Virginia, if anyone’s ever been there then you know it’s a dump. I don’t really remember living there, in fact I don’t remember much of my life at all. I never thought I had a reason to remember anything so I simply forgot.

I moved to Japan when I was five. I loved it there. I had plenty of friends and they loved me. But that’s where things started to go wrong. I didn’t realize it at the time, but my mother liked to push me to be the best at everything. That might sound like a good thing, but it wasn’t. I started feeling like if I wasn’t the best at something then there was something wrong. I thought I had to be perfect, if I wasn’t I beat myself up about it. This feeling continued when I moved to Arizona. I pushed myself to keep in front of the rest of the class, if I felt like someone was better than me then I hated them. I had to be the best, at sports, at academics, with people.

I remember there was a girl that somehow lived outside of that world. Outside of my ambition. She was always so happy all the time. I liked her, but hardly anyone else did. I was angry with her because she wouldn’t conform to my idea of a perfect world. So I decided to tear her apart. I’m glad I didn’t go through with all my plans for her. My shame got the better of me. I feel so sorry for what I did to her. And I can’t even remember her name.

After that I moved to where I am now. It was fifth grade. I was excited for the move. It was what I was used to. I loved the idea of making new friends, of overcoming the challenges of asserting myself into a new class. I had new goals, to be the best among my new peers. But things didn’t go as I wanted them to. The moment I stepped in that classroom I was torn apart. These kids didn’t want a new classmate, they liked it how it was. I encountered my first bully. For the next year she made my life miserable. I was forced to work with her on projects because no one wanted to work with either of us. She took out her anger on me and I didn’t know what to do, so I took it. I began taking out my pent up frustration on other kids by showing them how much smarter I was. I wanted everyone to know that I was smarter than them. I wanted them all to feel like idiots. I pushed away even those who were nice to me. I made myself an outcast. I was only satisfied when I proved that I was the best clarinet player in the band (I had more than a year’s experience at the time), when I was in the highest math class, when I was pulled out for advanced classes. I told myself that I didn’t care about being hated. I told myself I was better than them.

Middle school was my own little piece of hell. I only had one friend in sixth grade, Grace. She was an insane vegetarian who shoved her beliefs on others and constantly put me down. I was afraid to leave her because I thought if I did I would never have a friend again. So I let her use me as an emotional punching bag for the next three years. We later made friends with a sociopath named Amanda. This girl did not have a conscience. I thought I was being nice when I listened to her side of the story. I was just being gullible. This girl took my heart and crushed it. I still have trouble trusting others because of her. She pretended to like me then cast me aside. Throughout seventh and eighth grade she tried to make others hate me. None of my other friends would believe me about her. I won't go into detail of the things that she did to me. I prefer not to think about her.

Freshman year was better. I had the band. But that wasn’t much consolation when I only had one or two classes with them. I was picked on by many for the sole reason of being a freshman. Also, my drive for perfection had made me into a very strange person. I no longer admitted I wanted friends, though I desperately needed them. I just shoved all of my feelings down. I cried when I got my first B on a report card. It was in Spanish, I could not have been more devastated.

Things have been better since then. I’ve had friends in my classes and they have taught me not to give up. I have a thicker skin and stand up for myself because they have shown me how. But every time I think things are good something crashes though and shatters my world again.

I found out my friend was abused by her father, and there was nothing I could do about it. My other friend has turned to drugs and sex to distract her from her bad family life. She lives several states away and I have no one I can contact about her. I think one of my other friends might have a severe mental disorder. She’s delusional and possibly hallucinating. There is no one I can talk to that can do anything about it. I am friends with at least one homeless girl. I have friends who cut, whenever I see that they have I have a physical reaction. My home life is worse than ever. There is so much pressure on me by my parents I break down at the slightest thing and I tend to get pains from stress. When I do badly or even average at something I have a complete breakdown. When I get upset my throat starts to close up. I’m so busy I am slowly losing my mind. I don’t even know how I stay sane anymore.

The Dollars have helped me calm down. This is a place I can vent. This is a place where I can feel like I’m not a worthless piece of shit. I cannot begin to thank you guys enough for giving me advice and comfort.

>>57 I second that last part. It's kind of nice having a place where you're pretty much anonymous. Everyone's got a right to their own opinion here, yet few people will blatantly judge you, and nobody cares much if you vent or rage as long as its in the right place. It's like... I dunno. I want to call it a fluffy, soft, welcoming society... but when you screw up, you end up suffocating in the soft stuffing and falling through it, straight to spikes :V

Since I was too lazy to re-write this, I copy-pasted (and will add to in my next post btw) from one of my threads in Personal.

When I was 7, I believe, my parents started to drift apart, my mother would yell at my dad and kick him out alot,she'd then yell at us saying everything is our fault (my big brother and sister who are twins and me), we'd get kicked out of the house often, not long after my dad was officially kicked out, I didn't really know what had happened, I treated it as just a normal divorce, oh "mommy and daddy must not love each other anymore I guess, oh well." I was a very distant child, I would rather play with animals then other children, I could understand them better and they could understand me, more then that, I didn't like other children, I was convince we weren't of the same level-not able to communicate.Anyways, after my dad left, my siblings and i had to do more work now, we were treated as slaves until i was 11, i won't say more. as for school, i would always do my best, getting all "A"s mostly, since i would get pretty much killed each friday when she saw my grades and they weren't all "a"s.She never praised me.ever.not once. not when i'd get a 100% on my projects, not when I'd make a drawing. she would yell at me in front of everyone (bustop) if i got a "b", god forbid if i got a "c", i would cry if i got one, knowing what would happen.i walked to school every day and got up by myself.my dad broke into our house when i was 9. he wanted his things (my mom kicked him out without them), after that my mother began to tell me things that were untrue about him, they started out little, but by the time i was 10, they turned out into outrageous things that i can't believe that i believed her. That he had tiny cameras in out house watching out every move.that there were lasers in her room that only hurt her.that my dad had installed a microchip in her shoulder.etc..after i was 7 my mother made us buy ourselves our own things for Christmas (we weren't even christian really, only in name, didn't even go to church once), then on the day of it she would cry and cry, making us guilty screaming obscene things, she would then proceed to take all of our gifts that we had payed for to her room and never gave them back. My mom had always gave other kids in my classes gifts on their birthdays to make herself seem nice. for my own birthday she gave me a worse present then she had given to the person i hated in my class.she always did that, so i was used to it.every morning she would wake up at 12:00 or later, yell at us, call us liars, cry, i would then make her breakfast.she never thanked me. she would then sit down on the couch, turn on the t.v. and make us return to out manual labor.she would then go back up to her room and do whatever.she never helped us do anything. me and my siblings always ate alone, in a back room. my mom would always call me fat and make fun of me.always.whenever she actually left the house she would make a point to talk to some stranger and talk about my weight, and make sure i was listening.thats how i got so self-conscious. every day i would tell my mom that i loved her.every day.she never said she loved me back.ever.oen day when i was 11, she decided to tell me she was dying. i cryed endlessly, she layed on the couch, all high and mighty as usual, and she said that it was my dad that was making me suffer, she made me promise that i would never turn on her-to always be loyal, and to hate my father.you know, with all the lies she'd fed me, i already did.Of course she didn't die.when the court finally decided to have me visit my dad, i was terrified. i thought he'd kill me, when i came back i was so confused, my dad was such a nice guy! i hadn't seen him in years. as soon as i got back my mom questioned me. if i ever dared to say something hinting that he was nice she would hiss and scream at me telling me i was a traitor.i hated going home.
when i was a little older (still 11) I was told something that changed me.
something that made me realize how my life was just a lie
my mom had paranoia schizophrenia.
it had started since i was born
i of course blamed myself for this, just like i blamed myself for everything else.i could never trust anyone ever again. i lived my life through a screen, i always would just think "its not my life, nothing actually happened. its just some messed up anime that i got to into, nothing really happened.i'm fine" of course this isn't the case. i've hated myself ever since then.i never believed i could be loved.not by anyone, if anyone would ever ask me out, i would laugh, i would think "you're not serious!they can't be serious!who would ever love me!?"I would smile at them in my mind, as if they had shared a funny joke with me, in real life though I would make up an excuse, any excuse. any at all. anything to help myself from getting hurt again.

Paragraphs. Use them. All I see in your post right now is a big chunk of white.

(Damn that post was long, I am SO sorry) Continued-
Recently, I joined the Dollars (well, no shit, sherlock) and it's gotten a lot better since then.I finally have people to talk to, relate to. Although, on the home front, things haven't gotten much better(much better than with my mother though). I have to bike 10 miles just to get to and from school everyday (about 5 to, about 5 back) because my dad goes to the gym in the mornings, and when I get home, no one is ever home.My grades have fallen a bit, they're mostly 'b's now.This is mostly my fault of course, but I can't help but feeling that if I had the support of my family, my father, I'd do much, much better.My dad has had a terrible off and on relationship with this terrible woman, Tiffany.Who influenced him to start smoking again a while ago.My dad still smokes and drinks, and recently he hasn't been home at all, I only saw him for about 5 seconds after 4 days solid of not seeing him(social/business parties and such).I haven't seen my mother since I left her (thank goodness).
I can't think of much else to put here as of now, I might ad to it later.

...

Alright, here's my story. Nothing special.

I was born in 1991, the youngest of three children. My half-brother is 19 years older than me, and my sister is 5 1/2 years older than me. I was born to a hard working family that was fairly happy.

When I was a boy, I was hyper-energetic, kind of short-tempered and very, very extroverted. But I was still pretty smart, too (My mom always said I was a genius, I'm not so sure.) So when it came time for elementary school, it was a real surprise to the family that I was almost constantly put in detention, for various reasons. At my first elementary school, it seemed like everyone, staff and students, made it their objective to leave me out to dry.

I was utterly lonely, save for one kid on my street and one girl who went out of her way to hang out with me. Things were okay, I guess. Then the mistreatment stepped up, dramatically. Within 6 weeks of each other, both of my wrists were broken as a result of bullying. Both times the bully went unpunished, both times I was sent to detention because the staff thought I was faking crying just to get attention.

So I was pulled out of that school, and put into another school in another district. Things went smoothly for about a year. Then started Fourth grade. It seemed like kids were just lining up to fight me. I never instigated the fights, the kids just thought they could pick on me because I was rather small back then. Every time, I waited until they threw the first hit, every time I sent them running away, every time I went to detention for defending myself. Then my teacher said some bad words about me in front of my parents and principal, things happened, and I was pulled out, again. This time my parents decided to hell with public school, and they chose to homeschool me.

This time I had a small group of friends from the old school who played games, hung out and did stuff with me. Things were okay, I guess. Then, for some reason, one by one each of them decided to prey on my short temper. They'd get me apocalyptically ticked-off just for their own amusement. So one by one those friendships were broken.

For almost a year of my life I had quite literally no friends at all. It was during this year that my low self-esteem developed. Even now, I can't seem to shake it. But back to the story. For almost a year, I was pretty much alone, my self-confidence torn to shreds. The only person who hung out with me was my sister, who had recently got her driver's license. We had never been all too close until then, and we hung out, a lot.

But still, my self-esteem was at rock bottom. I thought I was the worst person alive, whatever... You've probably heard this story a million times before, so I'll spare you the details. Yet every time I tried to confide my problems, I never seemed to get an answer from anyone.

I was pretty much broken. I thought the world, and myself would be better off dead. It seemed to me that the world wanted me gone. I told myself that I was just going to jump in front of a speeding car, make it look like a bad accident, as if that would've helped any. But for some reason, I paused in a moment of thought.

I thought to myself, "If the world wants me gone, wouldn't I be the one laughing if I were to still be around?" So I resolved to live and exist, even if it seemed nobody wanted me around. Cynical? Perhaps, but it was my driving motivation in life for quite a while.

So after a while, about age 12, I was introduced to the youngest son of a family friend. He was about the same age, same personality, same interests. We became the best of friends, and we are still good friends to this day. He then introduced me to his friends, and I am friends with them to this day as well. Things began to look up, and I started feeling better about the world and life in general.

Around age 14, I began attending and helping out at one of my friend's church at his invitation. I was still quite hyper even then, so they took a bit to get used to having me there. After a while, they accepted me as part of their family, and in that church I met the friends who make up my tight-knit circle of friends I have today.

I also grew much closer to my parents at this time, especially my Dad. Him and I shared a mutual interest in cars and music, so we went to car shows and a concert or two, and we built on an old hot rod of his, and almost got it done. We were pretty tight, and he was a very strict father, but there was still a lot more we could've done together. Life was pretty good.

After I graduated high school, things began to take another turn. My family moved my grandmother afflicted with Alzheimer's disease into our house. She was the only grandparent I've really known all my life, as my Dad's parents both died when he was my age, my Mom's father died in 1984, and my step-grandfather died when I was four. I've always been an eager one to help others, so I helped take care of her. It was difficult watching my Grandma just sort of slowly fade away.

But it was bearable, for the most part.

Then came unexpected news that just sort blew my family off their feet. On my Mom's birthday two years ago, my Dad was diagnosed with Esophageal Adenocarcinoma, a very aggressive and deadly type of cancer. The doctors said my dad's chances were better than most people, as he was still very healthy upon his diagnosis.

Since my dad was weakened by chemo treatments, my parents couldn't also take care of my Grandma, so they begrudgingly put her in a nursing home. It crushed my Mom's heart to have to do it, and it was difficult watching her cope with both my Dad's cancer and her mother's Alzheimer's.

In the winter of 2010, it seemed that my Dad had beaten the odds and defeated his cancer. It was the last time our whole family seemed truly, truly happy. It was a great time, and we had fun just living life. My Dad truly thought he had beat it.

Then, come March 2011, and the doctors said his cancer had come back with a vengeance. It had spread to multiple organs, and it was only a matter of time. They still attempted to do chemo, but this time my Dad's body just couldn't handle it.

My Dad, a former U.S. Marine, Viet Nam veteran, the strongest man I've ever known, was withering away before my eyes. I was in disbelief, thinking my Dad was still going to somehow beat it. I feel somewhat foolish for it now, but no matter.

May 28, 2011 was the day I lost my father. I woke up to the sound of my Mom screaming and crying as he fell to the floor. He was exhibiting all of the signs of a massive heart attack (which was induced by the chemo weakening his heart), yet somehow I thought the paramedics were going to save him. I remember watching the doctors in the ER trying their damndest to save my Dad, to no avail.

I am literally haunted by the things I saw that day.

My friends and my church surrounded my family with love, but yet at that point, I didn't quite believe God was on my side anymore. I wanted to keep believing, but I can't bring myself to do it anymore.

It was the hardest thing to watch my Mom grieve at the loss of my Dad. It's another one of those things that haunt me. I chose to internalize my grief, but after a while, that internalized grief had turned into anger. I have anger issues now that I am having a difficult time dealing with. I have never been one to push my problems on others as a result of my strict upbringing. I haven't confided this to anyone, not even my friends. Perhaps it's been because I've spent so much time the last few years taking care of others, that I don't know how to take care of myself. No matter..

So it's been almost a year since my Dad has passed. Not a day goes by that I don't think of my Dad. I just wish that I could erase the memory of that god-awful day away.

I'm currently working as a steel worker for my older brother's company, and I am trying to get in good enough physical shape to join the United States Air Force, which has been my dream since I was a boy. I've taken on much of the tasks around my house that my Dad did, and it seems to make my Mom proud that I'm being the Man of the House of sorts.

So I suppose that's my story, forgive my horrible storytelling.

I've never been the type to shove my problems onto other people, so I'm still a bit meh about this, but whatever.

I was born.
I got older.
I got bored.
T got addicted to video games and wasting my life.
I used "T" instead of "I" in the last line.

I know my life isn't all that bad, but I feel the need to release the stress.


I have four brothers, four sisters (including me), a father and a loving mother. We had tough times and joyful times. I love my family to death, but now it seems as if I'm drifting away from them.

I remember my mind was starting to become conscious after the incident with my oldest brother pushing my mother down the stairs to a basement in order to protect the 2nd oldest brother. To this day, I'm sure he is still regretting his actions. I don't remember how old I was when I moved to California, but I lived there for two years with my mother. We moved there because my mother was having some health issues. During those two years, I had a cousin as baby sitter and we would play all sorts of games that involve a prince and a princess. I don't really remember our times together because I was young.

When I returned to the state was born in, all my brothers and sisters welcomed me in open arms. For the rest of my life, I grew up in a loving home despite the fact that I was bullied a little bit by my brothers. My times in that house sometimes gave nightmares because of the arguments my brothers, sisters, and parents were giving towards each other. I hated being called, "Spoiled Brat" by my sisters because I wanted to play all the time, but I can't blame them; they were older than me. Ever since I lost those two years in California, I felt as my chest has dug a hole like I'm missing something. Do I yearn for my brothers and sisters childhood? Am I missing something important from them or myself? I just don't know anymore...

Since I am the very last child, I have been observing each and every one of my brothers and sisters disappearance of the house (meaning, they're moving out of the bird nest). I became lonelier and lonelier. Now, it's just the youngest brother and sister in the house living with their parents.

I feel like I'm becoming very selfish. In my four years of high school, my parents didn't come to any of my (and my brother's) Orchestra Concerts. Well, they did. Probably just like once or twice... They always came to the older siblings’ concerts, but not ours. So I snapped and quit orchestra in my late junior year. My brother and I felt as if we couldn't receive their love anymore. My father is ALWAYS talking about money and my mother always has a temper which leads to yelling at me for no reason, "Are you a cripple?!" "You're a bad child!" "Get out of my way!!" Her words made my VERY insecure. I'm a fragile person at heart, but my tomboy personality protects me.

With that tomboy side, I created my own best friend named, "The Witch of Stories;" a beautiful, imaginary witch that writes my agony like what she doing right now. She absorbed all my negative feelings and replaced them with happy feelings. She is my only hope to a new day. I created a few best friends, but I won't get into detail.

My friends in high school weren’t any help at all. I tried talking to them about my issues, but they turned me away like some god damn HALLOWEEN DECORATION!!! I’m pretty sure they became my friend because I was “Asian.” That really pissed me off so I began ignoring them. I gave them a listening ear, but when it comes to me talking about myself they shove me aside. I was VERY hurt in my mid-sophomore and junior year. I became very distant towards others, but I didn’t care because The Witch of Stories was there to give me hope. I didn’t care about anyone anymore and became selfish in my own way, but I never showed that selfish side of myself because I know they’ll just tell me it’s wrong. I don’t want to be told by anyone that I’m a bad person. I hate being the villain. I know I can’t expect anyone to tell me this, but all I want is someone to tell me, “It’s okay to be selfish.” The only one I hear saying this is The Witch of Stories, but that doesn’t count because she’s basically me.

It’s my senior year and I still don’t know what I want to do in college. I told my family that I wanted to become a manga artist because it’s the only thing I’m good at. My parents, or course, oppose it and so did my oldest brother. The rest of the family just said, “Sure, go for it.” like they didn’t care.

I repressed LOTS of my memories because I know some of them are bad. Yesterday, I was playing hooky and had a talk with my brother about our family. He had to remind me when our father used to bang our heads together as punishment. I almost completely forgot that memory. Right now, I'm struggling emotionally and no one in the world knows it except for my brother who I had a talk with recently. My level of emotional stress meter from 1 to 10 would be around 6.5 and still growing. I don’t know whether I’m being neglected or not. I just don’t know what to do anymore…


There are a lot of missing details that I like to discuss, but they're mostly personal so I won't write it. I'm sorry if you had to read my lame story. ^^;

Hm, I've got alittle time. So I'll continue >>56.

Around three years ago. One of my friends had went out on a bike ride with her little sister. When she was crossing the rode on her way back... She wasn't paying attention and... she got hit by an oncoming car. She died immidently.

She was one of the few people that didn't judge me. It felt weird not having her around anymore. No, not weird. It felt horrible.

During highschool, things got alot eaisier for me. I've been sticking with the group of friends I have now, and keeping out of shit that doesn't involve me.

I've had little self confidence all of my life. I've always thought that I was stupid, annoying, and a total waste of a life. Ya' know. The normal stuff that depressed people think.

Well, throughout middle school, everyone agree'd with me. They all thought that I should just go and kill myself... and they really wouldn't give a damn.

I can't even count how many times I tried to kill myself durning those short years in middle school... Looking back... it scares me now.

Wow, these stories are really amazing, sadly, I don't think I'll really tell my life story. Besides, it's not even halfway through, at the moment, I consider myself at the prologue

>>69 Tell us your prologue! This IS a thread about our stories after all! :)

Bump~

bump

HOLY CRAP. I'm the one who started this thing, yet I had no idea about this thread, that is a GREAT idea by the way. Thank you MKOLLER, because your story has inspired all these people, and me as well! Yep!

Okay guys. Just a reminder: this is the unofficial thread of the stories. I think you all need to look at the original post as well: EMAIL ME YOUR STORIES!!!! Not that I have anything against this post. I like it: But this is the post to tell other dollars the stories that you are submitting to the book....I think. So just check out this link and send me your story too! http://dollars-bbs.org/missions/res/1334621153.html

Oh, but of course, only if you wat them in the book of course. If you dnspise the idea of publishing your life story anonomously, I understand.

GyGyj

Here is my story:

I never had close friends growing up, because I was paranoid of everyone. I was raised in a loving environment, where, yes..I was bullied in school. In elementary, things were good...but middle school...all hell was unleashed against me. I was the center of all practical jokes, all pranks, be it harmful or not...and the victim of constant beatings by bullies.

My mother and father were supportive of me, and if not for them, I believe I would have done a Columbine on my middle school classmates. I entered high school, reclusive and ever paranoid. My freshman year, I joined a gang that I thought was just like me, just looking for a place to belong. I didn't care what they did, I felt I was wanted by others for the first time.

As the months went on, I got into more fights with others, I became what I hated most. One fateful day, I was held after school by my science instructor for discussion of my behavior. It just so happened, an Army recruiter was also in the school that day. He joined the conversation, and instead of pulling the usual crap recruiters pulled, he talked to me the way I desired. It made me realize, I could do so much better.

After continuing staying in contact with the recruiter into my Senior year, I enlisted into the U.S Army as the MOS 31B, Military Police.

My childhood torments kept coming back to me, but thanks to my drill sergeants and company commander, I completed my OSUT at Fort Leonard Wood. For the first time, I was proud of myself. Things were finally looking up.

Then, as the past dicated before, I fell from grace. I was discharged without having any tests done to me. Depression hit again, hard. I became violent with people. I assaulted people for the slightest mistakes done against me. No charges were ever filed against me, much to my surprise.

Then, out of nowhere, she came into my life. She withstood the tides of hatred I had, endured everything I dished out...her spirits never faultered. It made me think...she took everything I threw, and without so much as a complaint, she kept loving me. During that time, I was with the old gang I was with in high school. I dropped the old gang and went against them.

She showed me the pleasures of life, how to make a bad situation into a good one. She left this earth before I could ever tell her I loved her. I know she knew, but I never stated it. Instead of slipping back down the slopes of my past, I keep her as a constant reminder that there is good in everything in the world, even if I cannot see it.

She taught me to give to those that don't have what I have. Lend my strenghth to those that need it. It is alright to fight every now and then, but afterwards, bring peace to those you fought with.

Now, I am living as she taught me. Love the world as I loved her. Goodness can come from the darkest reaches of the human heart.

Christ. I typed mine out but it's so long and stupid and I'm such a little snot in comparison to some of you strong people just thinking about it makes me want to slap myself.
I'll just summarize it really short later or something.

>>78 Doit. Post it >/ We're not going to judge you because you didn't have a shitstorm life, Ul. Justdoit.

>>78 Everyone's life story is different. Some deal with hardships, and some have no happenings and live a quiet and peaceful life. Post your story, as Barabi stated, we're not going to judge you because of it.

If that was the case, I never would have posted my life story. :)

>>2 Your story is so inspirational T.T I literally cried. Thank you for sharing ^^

Bump

Anybody have any more stories to add? Particularly those with an inspirational ending, or message? This project is still going on.

Also, tbis project is probably coming to close soon, so the sooner e better.

It's in first person because I copy pasta it from my paper. I wanted to share it with you guys but I didn't want to retype the whole thing.


The clock read 7:28 am. My white X-box controller was in my hands. My fingers furiously pushed against the buttons, which resulted in my 1.882 kill death ratio. Modern Warfare is what I usually played when there isn’t really anything to do, even if there actually is. I didn’t know I was in a trance until the echo pang of gun shots banged in my ears. The vibration of the controller from me pulling the trigger rattled my whole body. I started to feel this sharp pain right above my left eye, through my eyebrow. I instinctively reached up to touch my face. My cheek felt crusty but my eyebrow dripped liquid. I’d manage to confuse my conscious into honestly believing that it wasn’t blood all over the left side of my face.

I stood up. Dizzy. I walked out of my room, passed the hall which connected both bedrooms and the full bath. It dumped out into the living room, dining, and kitchen. My place looked like hell. There were empty bottles of various cheap alcohol that towered over my kitchen counters. The whole rainbow color scheme puked on my stained carpet in the form of dollar general party balloons. A pool of water on my linoleum kitchen floor was lightly dyed with a nasty red color. It looked like something had spilled onto what already was a spill.

One of my little sister’s friends was passed out on my couch. My side door’s blinds were pushed aside and against the snoring friend, Kevin. Outside on the patio, another one was on his phone texting. It was Ian. There was another one that ended up staying the night, a guy my sister apparently kind of knew. He sported half an afro and stood out in his red and white striped shirt. The thick, black-rimmed glasses he had on made him look like a thugged-out version of “Where’s Waldo?” That was my last image of him anyway. I then thought about my sister. There was one room left I had not yet looked in. Tom’s door was shut. He has been my roommate for two years and a good friend since I moved to the U.S. He had gone to his friend’s party the night before. It was unlikely he would be home by eight am. I stood outside his door with my hand on the knob for a minute. I could barely remember anything from last night. As I stood there, I prayed to God as if he would hear my prayer fast enough to make my sister magically appear in Tom’s room. At that point, I felt like anything could be possible.

My sister spontaneously decided to throw a party the night before. She said she invited some of her friends. The sum of her friends must be a whole lot because there were about fifty people in my little home. Barely even human, practically all of us had surpassed the legal stage of alcohol consumption. We were all wasted. It was around midnight when Ian offered me acid. Eduardo and Alec were offered too. I was already half drunk. The four of us had somehow managed to make it into my room; it was then that we decided to take a trip together. My sister walked in as we were about to go, but headed straight to the half-bathroom. We stopped in our tracks. She claimed she only drank a little, but she seemed more than tipsy. “What are you doing? Have you seen my cigarettes? Hey. John. What are you doing?” She had ruffled some stuff in the other room, making noises as she looked for her Marlboro menthols. Finally she faced us. “What are you doing?” That last question took about six seconds to come out of her mouth.

“Hey Grace. We’re gonna do acid. Do you think I should do it? I mean, I’m gonna do it. But just watch over us.” I couldn’t hide the hesitance and eagerness from my voice. Right as I ended, as if we had practiced it in time, Ian chimed in.
“Hey Grace, just keep an eye on us. I’ve done this plenty of times before, but those three haven’t really.”

“Uhm. Okay. Don’t do anything stupid. Well you’re already taking acid, but don’t touch the stove. Make sure your phone is on you and don’t even try to go outside!” She said something along those lines. My little sister is pretty cool.

The four of us took the little strip of paper and placed it on our tongues. It felt weird. I didn’t really feel anything. “Hey guys. Let’s meet up back here in about an hour,” Ian suggested. Each of us separated and pursued happiness our own ways. After twenty minutes of listening to other people talk about how terrible their life is, how aggravated they are because so and so’s boyfriend cheated on somebody, I’d had about enough. Those people were depressing. Those people were depressing me. I headed back to my room to lie down. The bottom of my bunk-bed transforms into a futon and that futon is what I sleep on. It’s not a Tempur-Pedic, but it’s my safe haven.

I had only closed my eyes for what felt like five minutes when I heard a banging on my door. “I’m up!” I grunted loudly. I opened my eyes to look at the time, 1:24 am. I saw the familiar red and blue flashing lights piercing through my blinds. “No fucking way,” I thought to myself as I slowly rose from the grave. I shook my head and took a deep breath hoping I wouldn’t look too messed up in the eyes of justice. I opened my door and stepped out as the song “Three Little Birds” hummed in my head. I felt calm. I confronted the man who represented the face of America. “Good evening officer.” He looked down at me like I was some insignificant being, but I didn’t let it intimidate me.

“Son, do you know what kind of trouble you just put yourself in?” Right then, drowsiness hard hit me. Everything felt so slow but fast, simultaneously. Before I knew it, the cops were leaving my apartment complex to bust some other party. I looked around the room feeling dizzy. My throat was dry as I tried to speak. “Guys, I gotta go lie down.” My vision was blurred so much that I couldn’t see the leftover people. I needed to lie down. Back to my safe haven I laid in silence, waiting to fall back to sleep.

I fell into a dream. Everything was repeating precisely every eight seconds. I felt alone. I kept calling for my sister, for anybody. Nobody answered me. The time raced from minute to minute rapidly. I watched the world from above change from day-to-night and night-to-day. A massive amount of information was expanding my mind. I felt as if I had figured out the answer to everything. I leaped for joy. I had never felt so relieved before. The overwhelming sense of euphoria exploded with energy inside me. The newfound energy implored me to run; I ran faster than I could ever in the real world. BAM! Down I went. It hurt being down that low. I wanted to get back up, but couldn’t. My body could still physically move, but something weighed me down. The time flew. I watched it fly by, but this time I didn’t receive any knowledge. This time, cold-chills shook my spine at the same speed as cold sweat dripped from the corner of my left eyebrow. My body felt too heavy and numb to move. Dead. I slowly rotted into the ground and noticed how the world would continue spinning after my life. My skin peeled off as I slowly decayed with nature. Maggots ate my flesh and bones. “Is this what death feels like?” I wondered. “It’s peaceful.” All of the warm memories engraved in my history came flowing back to me. My soul was flooded with joy. I had never felt this kind of happy before. It gave me hope. I felt reincarnated.

I heard my name. It sounded like a group of people. I forced my eyes to open against the blinding light. A man was standing before me. There were three other people behind him and I noticed who they were right away. There was so much light, I couldn’t focus on anything else around me. “Where am I? Who are you?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” The man spoke. “You’re doing great. Listen, I know you’re in pain right now, but don’t worry. Everything is going to be all right.”

“Are you God?” I felt foolish for asking that. My family was Christian; I was raised as a Christian, but I never believed in the bible’s form of “god.” I closed my eyes for the last time and finally had some rest.

Trying to unravel that dream was more difficult than beating Sephiroth from Final Fantasy VII for the first time. I played that game several times and failed at each attempt before finally achieving victory, after what seemed like five hours of that final battle, against him. I don’t know how my controller found its way into my sweaty palms, but I was once again in battle; it was a different field. I was sitting up, kind of hunched over. I woke up that way. Gun shots were going off in every direction. Modern Warfare. Reality welcomed me back with that sharp pain above my eye. I was actually wounded.

As I stood behind Tom’s door with my hand on the knob, I tried to put the pieces of whatever was lingering in my brain, in chronological order. I changed my mind. I walked away. I didn’t want to open the door and possibly see my little sister in bed with anyone. I was only a couple steps away when the door opened behind me. God stepped out, still wearing that red and white striped shirt. “Hey man, welcome back!” He paused, “How was the trip?”


End.

P.S. Don't drop acid when you're dealing with some really personal problems. Make sure you're in a good mood.

I don't know whether to tell... or to stay silent..

>>87 Why not go for it? There's not much to lose. <=)Only reason I'm not writing anything is cuz my life's not very inspirational, me thinks.. =3

Okay.Lets get this started already.I've been putting it off since the summer,and I dont wanna put it off any longer.

Lets start of with my bio-I am Sierra and I am 14.
By all means,I was never born with a silver spoon in my mouth.As a kid,we lived in a small two bedroom rental house,and I had the normal kid chore responsibilities from a young age-around second grade I would clean the bathroom for two dolalrs a week,and in the warm Michigan summers,I would water the plants.

I was never really a Tomboy,but I was also never a girly-girl either.My two nextdoor neighbors named Jake and Zack were homeschooled,and they were my best friends.We would fight and play around outside in the dirt,and then I would go inside and play with my barbie dolls and their pink attire.But during the summer before 4th grade,we decided to find an actual house and move.When I told Jake and Zack,they hated me.They chased me,yelled,tried to hose me down with water guns,and refused to talk to me.I remember I cried and cried for days because I didnt understand that I was really their only friend,And I was leaving,and it was unfair for me too.So We moved away,and I didnt see them until about 3 years later when I was walking with my best friends Rachel(more on her to come)
in our old neighbor hood.I said Hi,and we asked how the other was doing,and we were fine.This is honestly one of the few points in my whole life history when I was able to totally and utterly forgive someone who hurt me.

Okay then,lets fast forward 3 years to the 6th grade.I Had knoen Rachel since we were about 4 or five years old.She had lived across the street from me until I moved in 3rd grade,and even then,I only moved about a 1 minute drive away.She had always been the dominate one in the friendship.She was like an older sister.A harsh one.When we played hotel in the basement at her house,she was the manager,had the big house,and the cool job.When she had a birthday party,I suddenly turned inot MySpace-stupid and obsolete.Her older friend from another school would be her bff,not me.I remember her family had a newyears eve party,and I was stuck upstairs feeling like I was gonna throw up.Her new years wish was for no one to throw up in her house.

I hoped I could make her wish not come true.

When we were in 6th grade I was in Rachels and mnes group of friends-Me,her,Alexi,Sydney,and Melonie.Truthfully,I always felt like the odd one out.I wasnt popular or pretty,I was normal and weird.Rachel would always ask me why I always wore my hair in a ponytail because it didnt make me look pretty,or why I always wore the same ugly coat everyday.I remember my turning point when I realized that she hadnt really been my friend for the past 7 or 8 years.We were at lunch,and we were all talking about middle school.Rachel turned to me and said "Sierra,I really wanna give you a makeover before we go to middle school." Me and the others looked at her,and I asked her why. She looked me straight in the eyes and said "Because I dont think people will like...you."Everybodys jaw dropped,and Sarah,the most uotspoken girl in the world looked at her and said "RACHEL!" She looked arougn genuinley confused.She thought what she said was a totally okay and acceptable.

Now to the reason why me and that group of people dont speak anymore.

When I was in girlscouts in kindergarden,I met Ellie,and me and her became best friends when we were reunited in the 2nd grade.We were always insepperable.She was the one who granted me my nickname SieSie when we were little,(which has followed me,and been shortened to "Sie" or "CC" and has ironiclly been unintentionally put nito my dollars name,If you look closely)and was always there for me to just be a good friend.But Rachel,Alexi,Sydney,Sarah,and Melonie didnt like her,nor did they trust her,and they were always telling me that they were my real friends,not her.But the thing is,you dont need to be told who your true frinds are,normal ones,sure,but not the true,raw,real friends.Ellie asked me one day if they were talking about her one day,and i told her the truth,that yes,they were.And guess who was right behind me?Alexi and Melonie.Of course,I didnt talk to an of them for a whole nother two years,except for one isolated incident when I was walking alone at lunch.Ellie and me had grwon apart fast,which is a lie that I tell myself alot,but thats another time.I was alone on the playground,and my old group stopped me near a tree,looked me straight in the eye,and said "Oh,wheres your sweet little Ellie,did she ditch you?Well,sorry" Yeeah,they were total bitches,and I ended up running to one of my now friends Toni,who held me on the playground while I cried.No questions,she just hugged me until I stopped crying.

There were many more friendship mishaps afterward,but ultimately,I've come out okay with a solid group of people who love me for exctly who I am and dont care who I'm friends with.I am comfortable with me and comfortable with them.

Now to family.Around the time I was in 4th grade,I was camping with my now bandmate and best friend since kindergarden Mikaela at her uncle mikes cabin up north with our families.Around th 4th day we were there,the parents corraled us inside the cabin while they were in the backyard.They were all smoking pot.Obviously,me and Mikaela were scarred for life,crying and holding each other until we couldnt breath.Her little cousin acted like it was a normal everyday occurance and handed us their tiny fuzzy puppy to make us feel better.Her cousin was only 6.

My Dad,feeling no need to keep my sheltered suburban white kid life the way it was layed it all out on the table.He drank. Alot.Almost every night.To say he was an alchoholic was an understatement.He would yell and fight with my mom,alot,and tried several times he tried to pee in my closet around 2 in the morning,despite the fact that I insisted that thats was not in fact the toilet,until my mom hauled him out of my room.He went to AA,Na,and rehab,But when not under the influence,he was a bigger ass then when he was drunk and high.needless to say,by the time I was comfotable in life again,he started to do the same thing again and fall into a wobbly drunken cycle.Over the Summer,he told me he had given up on me because I decided to sleep in past 10,and when he tried to get my mom to drive him to 7/11 for captains at 1 in the morning and I told him that he didnt need more alchohol, he told me to shut the fuck up and mind mu fucking goddamn buisness.So obviously,I hate him.Alot.yeah.I have a healthy parental disdain^-^.He's found a thousand ways tosrew up,and succeded at doing so 1001 time.Most recently,he got drunk,and got into a fight with my mom in which I figured out he's cheated multipule times,and most recently he's been cheating online with a girl named cinnamon,and while they were fighting,he chocked my mom twice,so I called the cops.When I told him that I did,he told me that you dont call the cops on your family.When I told him that he was choking mom,what was I supossed to do,he just said you dont call the cops on family.Mikaela and her mom,my moms best friend came over a half hour later,and an hour later he called form jail to reiderate what he said before,and I still rarely talk to him unless its to make my mom happy.

I still have alot of issues,linked to my wieght and single status.Im thin,but when i was in about 5th grade, my mom told me to "slow down,cause you wont be able to fit into your school clothes" and Im currenly debating wether or not to tell my best guy friend how I feel about him,considering Im not sure If I like him or our new friend,Danny.

Well,thats it.Im not happy,but Im not unhappy either.Im sorry if this has alot of errors,Im typing pretty quickly.I hate my dad,Love my mom and friends,and Im okay with life.If I forgot anything,I'll add it on.

To be honest, my life was never interesting.

I grew up the first4 years of my life i na little crackerbox rat's nest of a house before i moved up the street from that house into the place i currently live. Then my brother came along. Then I was diagnosed with ADHD. My liofe had to be managed with medicine to keep me... "sane". I don't have much of an interesting life.

Pretty soon, when I was like 8 our something,. I had a tumor in my right ear that was removed, leaving me deaf in the right ear. Now i get a check every month. Since then, i've had a rough time in school/ Bing silent helped but.... It got to the point to where i become emerssed in gaming. Eventually i broke that and occupied my time with legos, but i slowly went back to it.

Then i had a reoccurance of the tumor and now i'm to the point of needing a hearing aid. I still get the money. But.... two months ago, my dad had a really bad heartattack that sent him to the hospital. Really scay because now he could die at ANY SECOND. HE recently had to go back with high potassium but is out now.

....

And now i spend my days online.

...

My life... is boring.

*scary

Medical Conditions~

I was born in Pensacola, Florida, the day that I was born I died, I was born premature and I had a severe lung disorder as well as a seizure disorder. I died 4 times when I was a baby, and every time I was resuscitated. I don't really remember this happening since I was too young, but I have been told by my mother. So anyways, at the age of 4 I was diagnosed with ADHD,a condition that caused my eardrums to not vibrate properly and asthma, all caused by my being premature 2 months. Well besides the ADHD, that's some sort of genetic thing. I still have issues with every single condition which has made it hard for me to function in normal life, as well as an un-diagnosed seizure condition(since the one I had when I was a baby only happens to infants) that causes seizure when I am running a fever of 103 or higher, roughly.

Home life~

I live with my mother and I have since I was born. When I was 2 my mother met a man in Texas(for we ha moved there), his name was Johnny, my mother and I lived with him for the next 9 years or so. During this time he would beat my mother everyday, and I would have to just sit there an watch, unable to do anything since I was just a child and unable to escape into another room because I was immobilized by fear. I was never physically abused by him, thankfully, but he had a son who was much older than me and much bigger and everyday his son would torture me, he would hit me, break my things, and every time I fought back I was punished instead of Little John (named after his father). I remember one time Little John was hitting me and kicking me so hard that I had welts and bruises and I lashed out and bit him so hard on the leg he bled, and instead of him getting punished I was, and it was just a spanking, no Johnny took my arm and sank his teeth into it, drawing blood and leaving a bruise that lasted for weeks. The bruise was noticed by one of my teachers and I was sent to the principle's office and I told him who had done it and he called Child Protective Services. There was a case opened against him and my mother and I was forced to lie because Johnny threatened me and my mother. I lived this way until about the age of 11, and then finally my mother and I got away, we packed up what little we could and drove to a friend's house in Dallas and then from there we drove to my grandparents home in Pensacola. We lived with them for awhile, since my mother was disabled in 2006 when she fell of the stairs and shatter both wrists, and when we were finally able to we moved into a small house in Pace. We lived in pace for 1 and a half years until I was almost 13, and then we moved back to Pensacola because my mom had gotten sick with lupus, and could no longer support us by herself and I was too young for a job. Well as it seems my mother had been on a medication for pain since 2006 called Ultram or Tramadol, its highly addictive and classified as a Class-A narcotic, and my mom had been taking it for a very long time. She developed a drug addiction and became highly strung-out until I was 16, she was a junkie and I had to sit there and watch while she would shoot up, to make sure she didn't kill herself. That was my life up until about 3 months ago, now I am here going to school, trying to get my education so I can get a degree in IT. I have moved on and my mother has gotten much better, through our support and through many trials she has found the strength to move on past drug abuse. I am living in a semi-nice house that I am doing repairs on slowly and just doing the do. Living life to the fullest, despite many hardships I face everyday, like my hearing and eyesight fading, i'm here and i'm having fun. :)

wasn't*

>>93
Uh....

[totally didn't sage this post... >o>']
An update that I've been meaning to post but didn't want to draw attention to? Yep. Shit that I came to realize after my last post. I think I have to split this up into a few posts since it's really long, but... Lemme see if it fits.

_________________________________________________________
My dad still thinks that I'm that cute little girl that used to follow him around hoping he would pay attention to me. So yeah, he still wants to talk to me. To be honest, I feel like I never got close enough to him to have a bunch of pent up anger that I need to release. I've released the bit I have through my regular rants; however, that doesn't change my disinterest in having him be a part of my life. He walked away from the responsibilities of raising me, so I don't feel he should be given the chance to meet the results. That's like giving a puppy to your friend to raise and then coming back when it's fully grown and walking it around town, introducing it to everyone as your own dog.

I'm not his daughter. He didn't raise me, so it doesn't matter whether we're related by blood or not. I believe in emotional relations a lot more than physical relations, and I have no emotional attachments to him anymore. I like getting a hundred in the mail every Christmas from him. That's about it.

Not only did he walk away from us after lying before, but he also has been continually lying. I didn't realize it until recently. Every time I talk to him, he says, "Oh, I'm coming down to visit you in [insert month here]." Of course, he never even makes an effort to get here (I have my brother to vouch for me on this one since he lives with him), yet he says it every time. When I was younger, I would get my hopes up every time I talked to him on the phone, even though I kind of knew he wasn't coming back. I know even better now.

I'm not even sure why I liked him so much when I was younger. My mother divorced him (because he was an abusive alcoholic) when I was three, and we moved away. But she didn't want us to have a bias against him, so we spent the entirety of our weekends with him. Again, it wasn't until just earlier this year that I realized how little I did with him. I never connected the dots until now.

My father never made an attempt to get to know me after the divorce. Whenever I went to his house (and I went there until I was six or seven, I think), he would give me a couple toys or cards to play with or have me sit on the couch and watch whatever he was doing with my brother. It was always, continually, about my brother. They were always together, whether they were playing video games or doing something sporty. Whenever we went to see a movie, I had no say in it. We always went to see something that my brother wanted to watch. We never once--not a single time--went to a movie that I had been interested in, whether it was girly or not. We never watched any shows I liked on tv.

We used to go canoeing. I was never allowed to do anything except sit there while my dad and brother rowed and had a good time; my dad used to say it was because I was a little girl and that it, "isn't safe for girls to row canoes." I didn't make a big deal about it at the time. I was a simple kid; I always have been (and probably always will be) content with just sitting around thinking, no matter what the people around me are doing.

I remember when our dog, Cleveland (who, even though I loved her to death, I will admit was a very unstable pitbull) used to bite and scratch me. Even if I was bleeding pretty bad, my dad would yell at me and tell me to stop being melodramatic about it. He never put any band-aids or anything on for me; I was always in charge of taking care of myself when I was at his house. Yet he continually fussed over my brother. My brother was never bored. He was never alone. It didn't matter if I was sick or didn't like what we were eating as long as my brother was happy and content.

Now, there were plenty of times when my brother was mistreated, as well. Those were before my time, though. Before the divorce, my dad used to treat my brother like he treated my mom. He isn't a bad person by nature, but when he drinks, he forgets his morals. He threat great parties for my brother, but he would turn around and break all of his toys the next day. He would put my brother down if he didn't get first place in everything. He would hand out his trick-or-treating candy to other kids right after he got home from it. My mother and brother used to curl up in her bed and pretend to be asleep so he didn't beat them when he came home drunk. My dad's later actions after the divorce affected my brother more, though, and he came to view my mother as the bad one. Our mom didn't spend as much money on us as my father did. She didn't spoil us like he did.

While he was spoiling us one day on the boardwalk, he and my brother started going on and on about my mother. Things that weren't true. My brother would blatantly lie to my dad just to have something to talk to him about. I was only five or six, but I was a blunt child when bothered and simply walked away from them during this. They finally shut up about it after I told them I was mad at them for talking bad about her, but I knew that they still talked about her. I wasn't deaf or stupid.

I've talked on this site before about the incident with Cleveland ripping apart another dog right in front of my eyes. The people who lived in the second floor of the two-family house my father lived in had a small dog, and Cleveland got out while they were coming down the stairs and just destroyed it. I finally talked about it with my mom a couple years later, and she said she had no idea I saw it. My father had lied to her. In addition to that, my father had never tried to ask me if I was alright or if I was bothered after it happened.

I wasn't traumatized by it, I admit. I was a horror-movie kinda kid. Loved the Child's Play series. I also loved detective stories (because of my mom) and spent most of my time watching the kind of crime shows you see on ID. So it bothered me, but it wasn't that big of an event at the time. I was more worried about them getting mad at Cleveland and my dad than I was at what Cleveland did. (Ironically, I can't handle even a slight bit of animal abuse now.) But that lack of concern still wasn't right.

My dad did come to visit twice after leaving. He came twice the year he left. The last time I saw him, we had been hanging out in Seaside. My brother left early on the second day to hang out with his friends. It was supposed to be a five day visit. The day after my brother left, my dad begged my mom to come pick me up. "I'm out of money," he said. I said I was alright just sitting in the hotel room watching TV with him, but he refused. He said he didn't want to bore me. He said it was wrong for him to have spent all that money in just three days and that I should go back home and hang out with my mom. Alright, then. I left. My brother had gone to Seaside to hang out with his friends the next day, thinking that my dad had already left.

He found my dad on the boardwalk playing games. He won my brother a bike rail, and the two had a jolly good time with the assload of money he actually had left.

Going back to feeling ignored compared to my brother, it was like that with my mom, too. My brother was never happy. He never had enough. My mom was always spoiling him because she knew he wouldn't listen to her unless he did. The two were always screaming at each other within a few years after the divorce. It continued until my brother was kicked out of our house a couple years ago.

When I was younger, I used to curl up in the bed I shared with my mom and hide under the covers, waiting for the screaming to stop so I could come out and cheer my mom up again. My brother would punch through walls, doors, and windows alike; the house was full of holes by the time we moved out. The house we're in now, which he spent a couple years in (and that he almost burned down) still has tons of holes where he slammed his fist in the walls and doors. He had great aim, too. He only hit a beam once.

He was great at begging for things and guilt tripping people, though. When my mom was a mortgage underwriter making plenty of money, she would buy him everything. He had new shoes every couple months. She would get him these ridiculously expensive clothes. His birthday and Christmas presents were never under 200-400 dollars, even though he always sold it or broke it within a few months of getting it. But if I asked for anything that was a bit expensive, my mom would tell me she didn't have enough money. I learned to live with less while my brother was selfishly living with the luxuries of a parent who wanted to win him over and a parent who didn't know how to say no to someone who begged.

Now that I think about it, I was pretty lonely as a kid. I spent most of my time studying for school or playing with my stuffed animals. I didn't have any friends until I got into school; even then, it was only in Kindergarten that I was care free. By the time I got into first grade, I was being bullied by a lot of the kids. I had been bullied since just about birth by my brother, but it was nothing compared to school.

I guess my personality was the issue. I was so quiet and studious, but whenever I talked, I was always obnoxiously bragging about something or putting someone else down. I wanted attention. I wanted to be the best at everything. I wanted people to look up to me, even if they were just my childhood peers. I guess I was seeking attention at school since I knew I wasn't getting it at home.

Of course, my brother will deny all this. He thinks that I got the most attention. He thinks my mom always hated him; neither my mom nor I know why he thinks that way. I can only assume it has something to do with my father. My brother used to go on and on about how my mom talked too much smack about my dad, but my mom never brought my dad up unless it was necessary. Meanwhile, my dad just went on and on and on about how horrible of a person my mom was whenever I was with him.

My mom loved me to pieces, and she spent all the time she could with me. Yet, all of that was lost in their fights and his spoils. I was too busy trying to keep my mom's mind off of my dad and brother to focus on whether or not I was enjoying my time with her.

I made my first friends around second grade, but I've never had a very long friendship. The longest I had ever had a friend was three years, because other people move on, but I don't. I have a few friends now that I've had for longer; however, I'm not sure I can call them friends anymore. The longest ones I've had feel really distant. They don't like to hang out with me anymore. There is only one close friend that I have right now, and it feels like she's moving on from me, too. I'm too nonchalant. I don't mind when people go their own way. I don't try to stop people who want to walk away. And so, I end up alone.

Going back to my mom, I kind of feel like I've never lived for myself before. Whenever I think about doing something, the first thing that comes to mind is whether or not she'll be mad at me. Will it worry her? Will she be angry? Will she be disappointed? Will she be sad? There are so many things that I've wanted to do but didn't because I didn't want to affect her. Its like my own happiness got lost somewhere in the fog of her depression and anxiety. I was basically stuck with the aftermath of men's stupidity in regards to a woman.

I can't stand getting yelled at because I spent all my childhood listening to my mother and brother (and later, my step-dad) screaming at one another. I would be more comfortable if my mother hit me, to be honest. But it seems like yelling and screaming is the only form of parent-child communication that she knows. She asks me to tell her anything that's wrong, but when I do, she gets angry at me. If I tell her that she did something wrong or if she didn't notice a problem I was having or if she wasn't taking something important seriously, she breaks down in tears and screams at me, saying that I'm purposely trying to make her feel guilty and that the topic needs to end. I just don't know what to do with her anymore. I love her so much, but I know I can't meet up to her expectations anymore. Neither of us seem to know what to do about it. She just keeps reigning me in more and more; I can't do anything anymore. I'm sixteen now, and there are a lot of things I should be allowed to do. She tells me of times when she was my age and would go around the city with her friends or mingle at parties and go to late-night movie viewings, but I'm not allowed to do any of these things. I'm basically stuck in my room on the computer. It took me so long to convince her that it was alright for me to walk around town by myself, and even now, she freaks out and calls me every half hour. If I don't respond, she gets in her car and goes looking for me. If she can't find me, she'll continuously call me. If I come home when the sunset starts, she'll already be saying that she was about to call the police.

I just... can't handle her anymore. I want to be myself. I don't want to try hard at school for her sake. I don't want to put on fake smiles for her sake. I don't want to only have proper friends for her sake. I just want to be "me" and not have to worry about her having a heart attack every time I do something out of line.

Anyway, my screwy childhood is probably why I'm so awkward around people now. I'm blunt, but I'm not loud unless it's necessary. I don't know how to break into conversations, and I don't know when it is and isn't okay to be ignored. I just kind of do my thing now. I'm not as much of a braggart as I used to be, although I admit it shines through sometimes. I want to learn and become everything that I can.

this thread, is actually good.

I'll just bump this so people could see

Seeing this thread still active after nearly eight years makes me wonder if it’s a sign or something to that effect. In any case, I find it prudent to use this thread to explain what I’ve been up to in the six or so years I’ve been away.
I recall last being on the BBS around 2014. At the time, I had started working for a local high school, and it kept me very busy. I was also leaning more toward Twitter and Skype for my social media needs. I got into this cycle, but it was all rather precarious. I finished my associate degree in social sciences around that time. 2014 eventually became 2015. My workload and responsibilities had increased significantly to the point I was stressed out nearly every day.
Things took a turn when I’d made a mistake at work that cost the district a LOT of money. I wasn’t reprimanded too harshly, but the feelings of inexperience and being a burden on my fellow staff members caused me to become severely depressed. I began missing work more. Eventually, I just had an emotional breakdown in my office and had to be walked off. It was like everything had come crashing down.
In the summer of 2015, I decided I would try writing an original novel. It turned into a first draft of “Star Maiden” which - though far from perfect, was a personal accomplishment for me. I tried marketing it myself, but I didn’t get far, admittedly. In the fall of 2015, I tried going back to community college to see if I could learn new skills. I wasn’t happy with what I was pursuing (medical assisting), so I eventually dropped the program, but not before volunteering with the local hospital for a few months. That was… interesting?
In spring of 2016, I wrote “The Path.” I spent that summer trying to find a literary agent, but to no avail. It was around this time that I started to do writing commissions for extra money. Then in August 2016, I was hired on with a product merchandising company. They had me working at the local Walmart (I know, fancy right?) and I basically spent my days nitpicking the store staff to make sure they were following the demands set out by the manufacturers of the products they sell. I didn’t make a lot of money doing that, but it kept things going as needed.
2017 is a bit of a blur since I wasn’t exactly in the right headspace for about nine months. I was really just going through the motions of my existence. That summer, I finally got on prescription hormone therapy (before that, I had been taking herbals mostly). I do remember being really into hypnotism though, and in the fall of 2017, I was involved in a few hypnosis communities on Twitter.
I’d like to say things were good, but there were a lot of… situations where scary things were happening behind the scenes. People did get hurt, and I have many regrets from that time. Nonetheless, I tried to stay true to who I was. I wrote some more novels and tried self-publishing again.
2018 saw more busy work, more writing, revising my stories, making hypnosis recordings. I wasn’t happy with my job, so I eventually changed to doing paper delivery. It was a 100 mile route once a week, and the pay was surprisingly good (compared to what I was making at the product merchandising job). Fall of 2018 was gnarly, what with the Carr Fire, Whaleback Fire, and Camp Fire all hitting northeast California. Thankfully, my home was just outside the zone of one of these fires and not at risk of burning down.
2019 was crazy because I met a few retired engineers who wanted to start a new ISP in my area. We ended up doing a lot of preliminary work, coming up with ideas and all. In the summer, we took a four-day trip to purchase some equipment for the project, but unfortunately, it has yet to go anywhere beyond that. Also, in the summer of 2019, I finally had my name changed officially to Madeline and my legal sex to non-binary.
And then you have 2020. When the lockdown happened, I eventually lost my job doing paper delivery. I was also slated to work with the US Census, but that’s been postponed. Thus, I figured I would use the time to start a YouTube channel (under the name Madeline Ariah). I’ve spent nearly six months making videos and have nearly 100 to my name. Most of them are adaptations of the novels I wrote and revised in years prior.
Now, I guess the obvious question to be asked is, “Am I happy?” To be honest… I don’t know. I experienced many things, so my story is unique in that respect, but I still question what all of it actually means. The problem is, I’m not sure where that meaning is supposed to come - if I’m the one who has to provide it, or if it’s something onlookers decide on my behalf.
I suppose I’ll leave y’all to decide that.

WAIT, YOU'RE MKOLLER?! OMG YOU'RE MKOLLER

K I'll stop and keep these excitement bottled up, congratulations on making this far though.

Thanks, I needed that. <3

I just subscribed to your YouTube!!!

>>105 I appreciate it a lot. To be honest, I am terrified of this project failing as my prior projects have. Like, I have an idea of how I want my channel to look, how I want my videos to look and sound - it's just a matter of having the technical prowess to make that happen. If there's anything you particularly like or dislike, feel free to let me know. Hopefully six months down the road, this will all be a lot better.

OH okay wow, sure while I'm browsing here I can update you a bit on how my life is going. And ho boy reading back on these sure does make me realize just how much on edge kid I was back then ouchie.
Alright lets see, I stopped looking around this site probably around late 2015, early 2016. By that time most of the people I had been talking to on this site had decided we were going to move to other sites. For while we had a facebook group, which I do think is still up? Unsure, I havent checked it in forever. But after awhile we had decided to make a discord server, which I'm still in but it is for the most part, completely and utterly dead. I posted in there today actually because someone reminded me of this place.
I think I'm still following Yata and Hatash on Twitter? But, I havent really checked in with anyone from the old group in forever.
So, here's my life story continued.
Well, 2015 was the year I graduated high school and started College. This college was a few hours away from where I was living growing up. Things were fine, I loved the experience. However I was a very naïve child. During my first year, I ended up meeting someone who I thought I was in love with. And we started living together probably around the first month of the relationship. Which honestly should have been major red flags but, you know how kids are.
Things were fine for about six months to a year, and then things took a turn for the worst. I refuse to go into details but lets just say, things happened without consent and leave it at that.
I ended up being in trapped in that relationship for, about three years. With this stuff constantly happening. I dropped out of college because of the physical stress that I had. It ended up to the point where I could not leave my house unless it was to go to work.
And then late 2019, I managed to escape. With the help of my little sister. I haven't heard from this person since and I'm honestly okay with that. I moved back in with my parents as I had no where else to go.
I found work again and was literally in the works of getting a new place to live all by myself when covid struck and I was released from my job. And pretty much that's where I've been at for the last 11 or so months. Things are better. I'm better.
As for what I spend my time doing now? I'm a mod on the offical Kingdom Hearts Discord server, and really all I've been doing while waiting for covid to pass is spending time there.

>>107 Okay adding on because I did forget to add this information. But around 2018-ish I came out as nonbinary. I have yet to really do any legal things about all of this yet as, it is a huge chore to do so, especially with covid making things 100x more annyoing. My name actually is Ravana now though, who'd have thought an internet name i came up with in 2011 would have stuck to me so hard.

>>107 Yata and Hat is still tweeting regularly, I can assure you that. I followed them xP

Also hey, good to hear you're on a better state. Imagine what I felt reading >>56 in one evening back in 2019 and wondering where you are right now after going through that.