Everyone wishes me the best... and doesn't actually care enough to help. So I guess this is the last thing I can do.
My novels are on a Mac computer in my roommates' possession. I'd like it if someone can finish it for me.
And just so it's clearly stated... funeral pyre.
I'm going to go lay down. The cut is making me tired.
*EDIT*
Yes, I'm a cutter. I have been for a long time. No, this wasn't deep enough to kill me, though it was sorely tempting, especially now. The one I gave myself tonight was the deepest I've done. Wasn't sure if it would kill me, and I had to debate on whether or not I wanted it to succeed. Obviously, it didn't.
The problem in question lies with formerly 'close friends'... people who live near me, have been my friends for years that I've bent over backwards and helped. But now that I'm at one of the worst points in my life... they're avoiding me. The worst one is a friend for seven years who hasn't even returned my calls for needing someone to talk to.
I don't think I've felt this alone since I left my fiancee.
*EDIT AGAIN*
Confession soothes the soul, it's said. So I think today I'll say myself bare.
I first tried to kill myself when I was four. I didn't even really understand why at the time, but later I was able to analyze myself and remembered some things I blocked out.
This is the first time I've come out publicly to say these things... a few know, a few trusted ones.
I was molested when I was four by my elder brother. Our home had broken up not long before. He was in the early stage of puberty, and nobody had taken the time to explain the new feelings to him. So, confused, he experimented. On me. A few days later I impaled myself on a knife in front of my whole family. I was sent to counseling, and they put me on antidepressants.
Later on I was taken off of them and put on enough ritalin to permanently damage the brain. Over time, even that amount was increased as my emotional stability fell to pieces, as the cause was never treated, just the symptoms. When I hit puberty, the medication almost hammered me into a psychiatric ward. I'd be laughing manically one moment, crying the next, and after would fly into rages and attack people. Before being admitted, I had to be taken off my medications to clean out my system for the drugs they use there.
Imagine going to bed when you're ten years old... and waking up when you are thirteen. It was like a great static that prevented you from making any sense of what you see or feel... all I knew was something had happened, something terrible. We found the cause to be the ritalin... it had started to act like the speed it was, but the doctor thought I was simply fighting it off and increasing my dosage... I was at triple the maximum when I was finally 'unplugged' from it.
Since then, I've always been a slow bloomer. Like the years I missed due to the drug were always hampering my growth. As a freshman, I was acting like a middle-schooler. It wasn't until I was a senior that I took my education more seriously.
In my young teens years, I met Kerri. It was love at first sight. Our families couldn't have been happier, since they were already close, and encouraged the growing relationship. A year into our relationship, she proposed to me. I accepted, but we were going to wait til after high school.
I had four close friends. Jennifer, a grade behind me, was just beginning to blossom from her awkward early teens into a lovely girl. Jason, my sparring partner in Tae Kwon Do, was near a brother to me. Abby and Jamie were the cool outcasts, and rarely seen apart.
Summer of my 16th year. Jennifer dies on the operating table of liver failure, during an operation to help treat her leukemia. Before I even had time to accept it, Jason dies a week later of a seizure in his sleep. I fall into deep depression. A month later, Abby and Jamie are murdered by a gun-wielding psychopath named Jason Frazier... who is on my wrestling team.
Devastated and blaming myself, I call Kerri and beg her to come see me, since she has her license and I only have my temps. On the way there, a drunk driver t-bones her in the driver's side. She dies at the hospital, calling for me.
I am utterly alone. Grief and anger nearly sends the remainder of my sanity to the wind. I can't even bear to go to her funeral, as I am unready to say goodbye. One thing keeps me together: Aubrey, a girl I met shortly before. As I slowly let go of Kerri, I fall in love with Aubrey; not the teen love I had for Kerri, but the first woman I've loved as a man. We start dating my sophomore year.
Flash forward to nineteen, out of high school; I run into Kerri's best friend Beth. She's just been hired by Meijer, where I'm working at. Beth, after a few weeks of getting to know each other again, asks when Kerri and I had broken up. Confused, I say we never did. Beth drops a bomb on me; Kerri was pregnant. And engaged to another man at the time. He was at the funeral.
I call Kerri's parents for the first time since her death. They confirm it, and say they were confused because they hadn't heard we'd broken up when she got engaged to the other man.
My relationship with Aubrey wavers. I withdrawl into myself, trying to sort out a betrayal that can never be explained. Aubrey helps me deal again, a few months later I propose, she accepts, and that night, she takes my virginity, despite my misgivings and wanting to wait for the wedding night.
Our anniversary, months later. I spend the day before hand-making a picnic lunch in my mom's kitchen for spending the day at her favorite park. Unbeknownst to me, my two roommates take everything in the apartment, pack it up, and leaves... including my things. The next day, I walk into her apartment... and find her having sex with my best friend, who was going to be best man at our wedding in a month. Distraught, I return to my apartment... and find nothing. No furniture. No food. No clothes. Nothing.
I lose it; I have a nervous breakdown.
A friend found me days later, still in the apartment, and nurses me back to health. My mother arranges to have me sent to North Dakota to live with my brother and sort my head out. After months of attempted suicides and hiding from life, I finally reemerge and attend the local college as a drama major.
A few years later, I get word from my friend Tiffany; Monica, a good friend and former flame, has been raped and murdered. I return to Ohio to support my friends, and decide that it's time to reclaim my Ohio life.
It's been almost three years since I've come back, and I'm still trying to get up on my feet.
That's the gist of me. The rest is rather long; my personal evolution, being introduced to TOOL and Ishmael... too long to put in here.
But maybe this'll give you a better insight into who I am.
Fabula abeo.
My novels are on a Mac computer in my roommates' possession. I'd like it if someone can finish it for me.
And just so it's clearly stated... funeral pyre.
I'm going to go lay down. The cut is making me tired.
*EDIT*
Yes, I'm a cutter. I have been for a long time. No, this wasn't deep enough to kill me, though it was sorely tempting, especially now. The one I gave myself tonight was the deepest I've done. Wasn't sure if it would kill me, and I had to debate on whether or not I wanted it to succeed. Obviously, it didn't.
The problem in question lies with formerly 'close friends'... people who live near me, have been my friends for years that I've bent over backwards and helped. But now that I'm at one of the worst points in my life... they're avoiding me. The worst one is a friend for seven years who hasn't even returned my calls for needing someone to talk to.
I don't think I've felt this alone since I left my fiancee.
*EDIT AGAIN*
Confession soothes the soul, it's said. So I think today I'll say myself bare.
I first tried to kill myself when I was four. I didn't even really understand why at the time, but later I was able to analyze myself and remembered some things I blocked out.
This is the first time I've come out publicly to say these things... a few know, a few trusted ones.
I was molested when I was four by my elder brother. Our home had broken up not long before. He was in the early stage of puberty, and nobody had taken the time to explain the new feelings to him. So, confused, he experimented. On me. A few days later I impaled myself on a knife in front of my whole family. I was sent to counseling, and they put me on antidepressants.
Later on I was taken off of them and put on enough ritalin to permanently damage the brain. Over time, even that amount was increased as my emotional stability fell to pieces, as the cause was never treated, just the symptoms. When I hit puberty, the medication almost hammered me into a psychiatric ward. I'd be laughing manically one moment, crying the next, and after would fly into rages and attack people. Before being admitted, I had to be taken off my medications to clean out my system for the drugs they use there.
Imagine going to bed when you're ten years old... and waking up when you are thirteen. It was like a great static that prevented you from making any sense of what you see or feel... all I knew was something had happened, something terrible. We found the cause to be the ritalin... it had started to act like the speed it was, but the doctor thought I was simply fighting it off and increasing my dosage... I was at triple the maximum when I was finally 'unplugged' from it.
Since then, I've always been a slow bloomer. Like the years I missed due to the drug were always hampering my growth. As a freshman, I was acting like a middle-schooler. It wasn't until I was a senior that I took my education more seriously.
In my young teens years, I met Kerri. It was love at first sight. Our families couldn't have been happier, since they were already close, and encouraged the growing relationship. A year into our relationship, she proposed to me. I accepted, but we were going to wait til after high school.
I had four close friends. Jennifer, a grade behind me, was just beginning to blossom from her awkward early teens into a lovely girl. Jason, my sparring partner in Tae Kwon Do, was near a brother to me. Abby and Jamie were the cool outcasts, and rarely seen apart.
Summer of my 16th year. Jennifer dies on the operating table of liver failure, during an operation to help treat her leukemia. Before I even had time to accept it, Jason dies a week later of a seizure in his sleep. I fall into deep depression. A month later, Abby and Jamie are murdered by a gun-wielding psychopath named Jason Frazier... who is on my wrestling team.
Devastated and blaming myself, I call Kerri and beg her to come see me, since she has her license and I only have my temps. On the way there, a drunk driver t-bones her in the driver's side. She dies at the hospital, calling for me.
I am utterly alone. Grief and anger nearly sends the remainder of my sanity to the wind. I can't even bear to go to her funeral, as I am unready to say goodbye. One thing keeps me together: Aubrey, a girl I met shortly before. As I slowly let go of Kerri, I fall in love with Aubrey; not the teen love I had for Kerri, but the first woman I've loved as a man. We start dating my sophomore year.
Flash forward to nineteen, out of high school; I run into Kerri's best friend Beth. She's just been hired by Meijer, where I'm working at. Beth, after a few weeks of getting to know each other again, asks when Kerri and I had broken up. Confused, I say we never did. Beth drops a bomb on me; Kerri was pregnant. And engaged to another man at the time. He was at the funeral.
I call Kerri's parents for the first time since her death. They confirm it, and say they were confused because they hadn't heard we'd broken up when she got engaged to the other man.
My relationship with Aubrey wavers. I withdrawl into myself, trying to sort out a betrayal that can never be explained. Aubrey helps me deal again, a few months later I propose, she accepts, and that night, she takes my virginity, despite my misgivings and wanting to wait for the wedding night.
Our anniversary, months later. I spend the day before hand-making a picnic lunch in my mom's kitchen for spending the day at her favorite park. Unbeknownst to me, my two roommates take everything in the apartment, pack it up, and leaves... including my things. The next day, I walk into her apartment... and find her having sex with my best friend, who was going to be best man at our wedding in a month. Distraught, I return to my apartment... and find nothing. No furniture. No food. No clothes. Nothing.
I lose it; I have a nervous breakdown.
A friend found me days later, still in the apartment, and nurses me back to health. My mother arranges to have me sent to North Dakota to live with my brother and sort my head out. After months of attempted suicides and hiding from life, I finally reemerge and attend the local college as a drama major.
A few years later, I get word from my friend Tiffany; Monica, a good friend and former flame, has been raped and murdered. I return to Ohio to support my friends, and decide that it's time to reclaim my Ohio life.
It's been almost three years since I've come back, and I'm still trying to get up on my feet.
That's the gist of me. The rest is rather long; my personal evolution, being introduced to TOOL and Ishmael... too long to put in here.
But maybe this'll give you a better insight into who I am.
Fabula abeo.
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you need me to pick you up from someplace?