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Rated: E · Other · Experience · #1546345
A memoir of my life until now.
My Lifeline

Ever since I can remember, even when I seemed happy, something was there. I’ve always had a split personality. But one thing I used to have was a trust in humanity.
When I was in first grade, my mother was in a nearly fatal car accident. The evil man who hit her walked away, but my mother is lucky to be alive. To this day she is disabled and will never fully recover. The odd thing is that on that day I remember there being bells ringing in my head all day. It’s just another thing wrong with me.
Eventually we made our first house move. I’d lived in the small ranch home all my life, but when I was around ten we moved to a big brick mansion. There I met my good friend Matt, and the trouble began.
My dad began to act strange. He’d always been terrifying in his anger, but now it was more frequent. When Matt and Sean told me they’d seen him smoking, I didn’t believe it until I saw for myself. He’d quit smoking a long time ago but had suddenly picked the habit back up.
My grandmother died, and my father was out playing video games and drinking with his friends. He seemed only slightly upset by it. I met my cousin Alisha and realized the bad fatherhood was a common thing in our family.
My dog died as well. He was a cute, fluffy little guy, and he died after we owned him six months. I miss him terribly even today.
We moved again, this time to Delaware. We lived there a year. The school was terrible, the neighborhood was too perfect, and the house was lonely and depressing. We ate nothing but Chinese food and eggs, both of which I now hate to eat.
Dad was never there. He was in Colorado, supposedly making arrangements for us to move there. It was at this time I started to lose contact with my best friend, Jordan.
The other house wouldn’t sell. It was irritating, and the financial decay forced us out of Delaware and back to Maryland. Dad, as it turns out, had had no job the whole time.
The Delaware home still wouldn’t sell. It is because of my father’s stupidity that we went from wealthiness to poverty.
It was then my life changed terribly. My utterly logical and monstrous mind began to shelter me from reality. Around me it created a world I went to. At first it was all fun and games, but then it became… real.
I would scream and run and hurt myself claiming the monsters did it and honestly believing it was true. I was insane. I lashed at humans and hid in my room. At night I screamed so much, terrified to go to sleep because of my corrupted world. Sleep was the ultimate portal, where everything went bad. Demons and ghosts haunted me, and I became the demon, slaughtering innocent little creatures of my imagination.
After several insanity related events, I was sent to a counselor and given a medication. The images have faded till to this day, but the horror haunts me everywhere I go. Remembering the kind of monster I am.
It was then that my subconscious, my constructed world, shattered. Jordan and my father both abandoned me at my greatest time of need. They always say parents are only leaving for a little while, but they never come back. My mom had kicked him out of her home, and told him to never harm us again. I hadn’t known that my mother didn’t know of the ways my father disciplined us.
About a half year later, we moved to my current home, a small white rental in a dangerous little town, right on the corner of Wal-Mart. There was no heating for a long time. My room was so cold I wore five layers of clothes and three blankets and still was freezing. I remember not being able to move my fingers. Our heating was fixed and the government granted us food stamps, the only reason we’re not starving.
Returning to school that year was awful, but I formed a close friendship with three people. We became inseparable. I also realized how serious my crush on a boy was. I found out it wasn’t a crush. I was, and still am, in love. And it hurts so badly.
At least, I think. I won’t go into detail describing myself here, but I’m very complex. I can cry and yell and react, but my mind does it for me and I feel… nothing. I learned to never trust anyone, and never let anyone tell me what to do, not to live for anything or anyone.
Several odd things happened in the school year, overdramatic fights with the likes of cheerleaders and plastic doll girls who look anorexic. I remembered what I had learned recently of my father. He had left because he’d been having countless affairs for years, and he got caught having one with my mother’s best friend.
To this day the man pays no child support and my family barely gets by. My mother works in the cafeteria to pay for my tuition, because of the damned Christian school she insists we attend. But I am angry with God. He recently allowed a fifteen year old wonderful boy to pass away, and for another of my best friends to leave me. My brother and sister are the objects of scorn, and my mother’s pain is immense because of the work she does to make us go to a school all about him. Why should I love him?
Especially after these so called good people kicked me out of their school. I now have to get on my knees and beg, but only because it's my last option. I was framed and unfairly expelled. Those little plastic doll girls must be laughing about it now. As I lie down, I can hear them... mocking me.
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