Someone in another thread asked for an autobiography:
My hometown is impoverished, and my parents struggled to never have much. My father always works and my mother I was always afraid of and so there's no love there.
I didn't know how to make friends when I was younger; I was the type to hide behind my fathers legs,clinging to his pants when I was presented.
I wanted friends and I had a bike that I'd ride all day and I would just wait around kids until they noticed me.
I was so desperate for friendship I would become friends with others who would hurt me and still I would cling to them.
It was better than those lonely sunsets going home to lay at the door listening to parental arguments just to have some fun.
A slightly richer friend and his family teased me for not having anything, and an older friend who played street hockey with me did the same and always said I sucked. The latter eventually got me to suck his cock to join a club, and then robbed me a few months later when I finally had something, just a playstation, and I was probably eight or nine around this time.
At school, I just sat and watched, sometimes I would get afraid and cry and scream and crawl to the door to escape until I was kicked out of first grade.
At another school, a more mixed ethnicity inner-city school that was later to be the norm, I met a few friends, and I got along by making fun of others like I was made fun of; I didn't like it, but I sort of fit, pretending to be tough and laughing cruelly. I finished first grade at another school, where I was so afraid I would have my mother attend with me some days; I guess I loved her more than I remember, or I just had no other mother.
I left that school for another after I refused medicine in the after school program; I lost my friends again.
The new school put me into a smaller classroom where I could watch people get restrained,and if I did good, I got to select from prizes and the teachers adored me as I did so good.
In third grade, I was put into normal classes, and I met my first real friends, we would talk trash to each other all day and play sports and they would still tease me about being poor but I was so happy to not be alone.
I would see them every weekend, and others started to like me more. Still, i was bullied, punched in the stomach a lot, and other things, all throughout my time in school.
Just like with my parents when I was hurt, I toughened up and took it, as I thought that was what I should do, and if I was really hurting, I coped by pretending to be strong, like I do today, fighting off people that might want to care.
For fifth grade I left that school to go to a school that had a lot more white kids and I didn't really know how to interact with these people who not only couldn't tolerate but despised foolishness and were very quick to isolate me.
There were some minority children I got along with fine, and some white kids liked me, but it was more that I was a spectacle to them(and so it continues today).
I was rejected for my first time, and I sat in the hallway and cried a lot.
I didn't know what I wanted to do with girls then other than be a sort of hugged pet as I was with my counselors at camp, if I wasn't running away from my counselors and fighting them, as I did on some days.
I went back to school with my old friends in sixth grade, I was bullied but I met new friends and became more popular. My first major white friend that I knew to this day I met then, back then we would egg houses and scare people, play pranks, make fun of others at school, and just do normal things I suppose. Last I know he was talking of overdosing on heroin as life had become too much for him.
In eighth grade I was transferred to a school where the guys looked like girls, the girls spoke of buddhism, and the constant kindness and the deprived opportunity of failing made it hard for me to trust anyone. I just wanted to be the cool outsider that didn't like anything as that's all I could do to fit.
After some time I was pulled upstairs to meet with a new psychologist, he told me something my parents knew yet never told me, that I had aspergers, and all my fighting to be myself reduced to me being ultimately flawed and impossibly broken, just like the people with downs syndrome and other disorders;people who my parents helped, I couldn't help but feel.
I started to examine everything about myself more closely, and I was tired, depressed in high school, trying to forget the diagnosis and be tough again. I couldn't help realizing I was alone as I could only be and I had a reason I knew I couldn't forget.
I had school friends though,I think, people who listened, happy people that didn't judge others for not being smart, though I always was smart. People noticed I slept a lot in class as I was always tired, though I somehow got really good grades and the teachers read my papers aloud.
I was pretty good when I could just sit and write.
Oh well, I grew up, my friends all left to work and it's very hard to keep in touch when you have little self-esteem. I laid in bed a lot in the summer, just letting the sun fall on me as I felt very sad.
I started work at a hospital. I seemed to do twice as much as the others in my position, but I feared being fired as I wanted to see if I could work a job and be normal.
Later it was admitted they applied pressure until I was what I was and it may have been a bit much.
I had no one, so I started to run. I wanted to have six pack abs and look beautiful; prior,in eigth grade I tried to look like Johnny Depp as for some reason it helped me cope with standing alone.
I started eating less, changing my diet, and I became vegetarian for a while.
Throughout all of this, my life, father helped me, he's always been there for me, but I feel the dependency he's created has made me feel even weaker and guilty and underachieving and it returns as hatred. My mother became vilified as I grew older and her bad habits manifested after she lost her job and "refused" to work. Acting like my mother was considered a bad thing, and she would cry in the shower and beg for pity a lot, and tell me I was awful in very inventive ways if we were kept close.
So working as I was, I gave up reading and studying, I just wanted to think about cars, women, and money like everyone around me after graduating high school.
I never learned to drive, father told me it would cost too much and I listened.
I kept running until I thought I was very healthy.
I was very skinny and my cheekbones showed as my face became gaunt, I suffered a breakdown at work and left on a sanctioned break. I found I had bulimia, and I sort of made it through that over the next four or so years. I was healthy again sometime after I left that place where I worked for five years, and I didn't feel normal, I just felt more depressed and lessened by doctors and managers and people "above" me. People who for the first time in my life I had to acknowledge simply were above me, with no friends for support.
I found another job in that community where I went to school in eigth grade and I loved all the people there.
Still recovering from bulimia, I decided to pursue culinary school after that place closed.
I felt dumb when given school work, I couldn't measure up to the demands, and I worked in addition to lifting weights in the later months of the progressively demanding school. towards the end I wasaveraging three hours or sleep during school days and I felt horrible before I failed and stopped praying.
I never believed in God, but when I was working at the hospital I met a Jehovah witness who I turned to for help when I was having horrible, piercing night time pains stemming from feelings of hopelessness as I would die and I felt so alone and scared.
I believed him and it helped and then I couldn't.
After leaving school I was unemployed for sixth months as I burned through my savings.
The only thing I could do was walk my dog, and I just didn't think for those months very much, I stared at the grass closely when the flowers bloomed; I was in debt forever I knew and I had to try to imagine it wasn't real and be a kid again just to cope.
I've always loved dogs, and ever since I was young I've had one so a few have died and really hurt me, maybe even more than a lot of my other family that really liked me dying.
See, everyone goes away.
I grew a beard as I didn't care, and I started thinking of having a girlfriend more and more, so really, just a mom or someone to hold me. It's so shaming for me to admit how weak I am.
I started to notice I wasn't talking much anymore, and I started to think the people in the cars passing me were watching me. I felt so silly being this old walking a dog and only looking forward to being taken to the grocery store by my parents. I am always very critical of myself.
I found a job far away. Oh. I'm struggling to speak now, I'm stuttering, I can't be loud, what's happening.
I'm getting picked on for liking gangster music that I grew up listening to. I didn't talk to the girls much as I never did as I grew older and felt scrutiny that was probably just my own.It was too painful to risk rejection.
Still, I tried to ask a few out before I was let go.
I found another job, and all of the girls were beautiful adults, attending school, doing normal things that I could never do. I felt so meek and tortured by the beauty of others, which was really nothing new, just worse now that I couldn't get angry.
I started listening to the Manic Street Preachers, and for the first time I heard the thoughts in my head coming from my emotions articulated so clearly and beautifully.
I came to the same conclusions before as I always had trouble believing someone if they didn't in some way agree with what I already knew, as a result of my trust issues. I never liked love songs as I could never relate.
I woke up, I started reading and writing again, as I once loved to.
My depression was incited by daily rejection or that's how I saw things at work, I couldn't sleep anymore and I'd write while crying.
I planned to kill myself at twenty-two, I felt like I had no choice.
I couldn't go back to school, be normal, and I left a suicide note saying something of, if no one can love me, I at least love myself, and I left work one night for the bridge.
There was ice in the water below the bridge and I felt so free, I decided to be homeless for a freezing night instead of dying. People drove by and laughed and taunted and it didn't seem unusual, and the other homeless sleeping in sleeping bags on the bus platforms didn't surprise me.
I made it to the hospital, and I stayed there and didn't get better; I probably died somewhere there, as everything since has been awful, at best I found peace for a slight bit on some days after.
After the hospital, I had an apartment in a place where you can feel like a celebrity, or I did.
I became sort of narcissistic, dressing up in tight pants, wearing sunscreen that looked like makeup; living off the stares. Hoping a beautiful woman would say hello, instead I got just whispers of creepy and weird. I wish I could say hello and then be something.
My money almost ran out before I found a job, two, one was related to school and was very hard. I wasn't liked in either place. One place had a gentleman who kept recommending suicide and pointing out my flaws, and I laughed; I started to realize I liked pain, and maybe always had.
One day before a shift at work, I was listening to music, alone and content while walking in the woods, and my scatterbrained head forgot to check the schedule for tough job. that job called, and I panicked, I rushed home fighting off tears as I'd always do when in public (until I couldn't cry at all) after telling them I'd be there soon.
I had a boxcutter, and so I cut myself, and felt happy, calm.
I went to work, and they didn't even need me after all!
So every day for the last two years became a sort of repeat of hopes to meet someone, sitting in a coffee shop, having hopes that leave me in a tearful state at the end of everyday.
I have so many dreams of what I would do, of things I should have said, of beautiful faces I'll never know.
I began to cope by going into the woods at night and singing too myself and thinking about death in a sort of strong sense, as if I was some martyr or some smarter thing than these people trapped in the repetitions of life. I was just coping with my rejection by trying to make myself into some pure ideal. I know suffering doesn't make you special even if you want it to, at least as I want to be, as special as other sufferers may secretly want to be.
After walking out of one job, I left the other, and moved to a very tough job which I currently do, in a lonelier place with much less to do.
I'll be twenty five soon, and every day hurts a lot to be alive, or I don't feel anything, or sometimes after cutting myself, I laugh like a kid again for a short time. I just bought a laptop, and I'm trying to copy and edit the things I wrote in my notebook, but they're not good enough to give me any hard-accepted hope of explaining and excusing myself.
Really, I know, how I'm seen, how I am forgotten, and how no, no one cares, as people like me die all the time.
Lately I've begun to understand the stare I receive, it's curiosity, as others know I will die soon, and they want to see someone like me, to sate the desired cruelty that is the only lasting love humanity has ever shown me. Everyone is hurting and can't do anything other than hurt each other. Everyone hates each other, and I don't understand why, when everyone is so beautiful, and I know this, every little thing I see others do; I wish I could be just like you.
I wish I could find someone that loves me, I wish I could be smart, I wish I could have a family without hurting the ones I love.
I understand I'm just not like everyone else, and there's nothing that can be done.
Everyday reminds me of this, and I'm starting to look more and more like my mother, and my uncle who killed himself.
I cut myself now just if a woman I like doesn't acknowledge me, or I get mad at someone for something silly.
Everyday when I take my shirt off and stare in the mirror I think of what life is doing to me and I don't know if I can keep trying.
I've always been alone, and today I realized I hurt someone who I wanted to be a friend.
It's so easy to be tough and cool when you can if you're hurting and I have become very selfish when it comes to sharing.
I just want to be seen before I go. I'm bitter and that hurts the most, that I have to ask for this sort of revenge.
Thanks. This will probably be my last post.
My hometown is impoverished, and my parents struggled to never have much. My father always works and my mother I was always afraid of and so there's no love there.
I didn't know how to make friends when I was younger; I was the type to hide behind my fathers legs,clinging to his pants when I was presented.
I wanted friends and I had a bike that I'd ride all day and I would just wait around kids until they noticed me.
I was so desperate for friendship I would become friends with others who would hurt me and still I would cling to them.
It was better than those lonely sunsets going home to lay at the door listening to parental arguments just to have some fun.
A slightly richer friend and his family teased me for not having anything, and an older friend who played street hockey with me did the same and always said I sucked. The latter eventually got me to suck his cock to join a club, and then robbed me a few months later when I finally had something, just a playstation, and I was probably eight or nine around this time.
At school, I just sat and watched, sometimes I would get afraid and cry and scream and crawl to the door to escape until I was kicked out of first grade.
At another school, a more mixed ethnicity inner-city school that was later to be the norm, I met a few friends, and I got along by making fun of others like I was made fun of; I didn't like it, but I sort of fit, pretending to be tough and laughing cruelly. I finished first grade at another school, where I was so afraid I would have my mother attend with me some days; I guess I loved her more than I remember, or I just had no other mother.
I left that school for another after I refused medicine in the after school program; I lost my friends again.
The new school put me into a smaller classroom where I could watch people get restrained,and if I did good, I got to select from prizes and the teachers adored me as I did so good.
In third grade, I was put into normal classes, and I met my first real friends, we would talk trash to each other all day and play sports and they would still tease me about being poor but I was so happy to not be alone.
I would see them every weekend, and others started to like me more. Still, i was bullied, punched in the stomach a lot, and other things, all throughout my time in school.
Just like with my parents when I was hurt, I toughened up and took it, as I thought that was what I should do, and if I was really hurting, I coped by pretending to be strong, like I do today, fighting off people that might want to care.
For fifth grade I left that school to go to a school that had a lot more white kids and I didn't really know how to interact with these people who not only couldn't tolerate but despised foolishness and were very quick to isolate me.
There were some minority children I got along with fine, and some white kids liked me, but it was more that I was a spectacle to them(and so it continues today).
I was rejected for my first time, and I sat in the hallway and cried a lot.
I didn't know what I wanted to do with girls then other than be a sort of hugged pet as I was with my counselors at camp, if I wasn't running away from my counselors and fighting them, as I did on some days.
I went back to school with my old friends in sixth grade, I was bullied but I met new friends and became more popular. My first major white friend that I knew to this day I met then, back then we would egg houses and scare people, play pranks, make fun of others at school, and just do normal things I suppose. Last I know he was talking of overdosing on heroin as life had become too much for him.
In eighth grade I was transferred to a school where the guys looked like girls, the girls spoke of buddhism, and the constant kindness and the deprived opportunity of failing made it hard for me to trust anyone. I just wanted to be the cool outsider that didn't like anything as that's all I could do to fit.
After some time I was pulled upstairs to meet with a new psychologist, he told me something my parents knew yet never told me, that I had aspergers, and all my fighting to be myself reduced to me being ultimately flawed and impossibly broken, just like the people with downs syndrome and other disorders;people who my parents helped, I couldn't help but feel.
I started to examine everything about myself more closely, and I was tired, depressed in high school, trying to forget the diagnosis and be tough again. I couldn't help realizing I was alone as I could only be and I had a reason I knew I couldn't forget.
I had school friends though,I think, people who listened, happy people that didn't judge others for not being smart, though I always was smart. People noticed I slept a lot in class as I was always tired, though I somehow got really good grades and the teachers read my papers aloud.
I was pretty good when I could just sit and write.
Oh well, I grew up, my friends all left to work and it's very hard to keep in touch when you have little self-esteem. I laid in bed a lot in the summer, just letting the sun fall on me as I felt very sad.
I started work at a hospital. I seemed to do twice as much as the others in my position, but I feared being fired as I wanted to see if I could work a job and be normal.
Later it was admitted they applied pressure until I was what I was and it may have been a bit much.
I had no one, so I started to run. I wanted to have six pack abs and look beautiful; prior,in eigth grade I tried to look like Johnny Depp as for some reason it helped me cope with standing alone.
I started eating less, changing my diet, and I became vegetarian for a while.
Throughout all of this, my life, father helped me, he's always been there for me, but I feel the dependency he's created has made me feel even weaker and guilty and underachieving and it returns as hatred. My mother became vilified as I grew older and her bad habits manifested after she lost her job and "refused" to work. Acting like my mother was considered a bad thing, and she would cry in the shower and beg for pity a lot, and tell me I was awful in very inventive ways if we were kept close.
So working as I was, I gave up reading and studying, I just wanted to think about cars, women, and money like everyone around me after graduating high school.
I never learned to drive, father told me it would cost too much and I listened.
I kept running until I thought I was very healthy.
I was very skinny and my cheekbones showed as my face became gaunt, I suffered a breakdown at work and left on a sanctioned break. I found I had bulimia, and I sort of made it through that over the next four or so years. I was healthy again sometime after I left that place where I worked for five years, and I didn't feel normal, I just felt more depressed and lessened by doctors and managers and people "above" me. People who for the first time in my life I had to acknowledge simply were above me, with no friends for support.
I found another job in that community where I went to school in eigth grade and I loved all the people there.
Still recovering from bulimia, I decided to pursue culinary school after that place closed.
I felt dumb when given school work, I couldn't measure up to the demands, and I worked in addition to lifting weights in the later months of the progressively demanding school. towards the end I wasaveraging three hours or sleep during school days and I felt horrible before I failed and stopped praying.
I never believed in God, but when I was working at the hospital I met a Jehovah witness who I turned to for help when I was having horrible, piercing night time pains stemming from feelings of hopelessness as I would die and I felt so alone and scared.
I believed him and it helped and then I couldn't.
After leaving school I was unemployed for sixth months as I burned through my savings.
The only thing I could do was walk my dog, and I just didn't think for those months very much, I stared at the grass closely when the flowers bloomed; I was in debt forever I knew and I had to try to imagine it wasn't real and be a kid again just to cope.
I've always loved dogs, and ever since I was young I've had one so a few have died and really hurt me, maybe even more than a lot of my other family that really liked me dying.
See, everyone goes away.
I grew a beard as I didn't care, and I started thinking of having a girlfriend more and more, so really, just a mom or someone to hold me. It's so shaming for me to admit how weak I am.
I started to notice I wasn't talking much anymore, and I started to think the people in the cars passing me were watching me. I felt so silly being this old walking a dog and only looking forward to being taken to the grocery store by my parents. I am always very critical of myself.
I found a job far away. Oh. I'm struggling to speak now, I'm stuttering, I can't be loud, what's happening.
I'm getting picked on for liking gangster music that I grew up listening to. I didn't talk to the girls much as I never did as I grew older and felt scrutiny that was probably just my own.It was too painful to risk rejection.
Still, I tried to ask a few out before I was let go.
I found another job, and all of the girls were beautiful adults, attending school, doing normal things that I could never do. I felt so meek and tortured by the beauty of others, which was really nothing new, just worse now that I couldn't get angry.
I started listening to the Manic Street Preachers, and for the first time I heard the thoughts in my head coming from my emotions articulated so clearly and beautifully.
I came to the same conclusions before as I always had trouble believing someone if they didn't in some way agree with what I already knew, as a result of my trust issues. I never liked love songs as I could never relate.
I woke up, I started reading and writing again, as I once loved to.
My depression was incited by daily rejection or that's how I saw things at work, I couldn't sleep anymore and I'd write while crying.
I planned to kill myself at twenty-two, I felt like I had no choice.
I couldn't go back to school, be normal, and I left a suicide note saying something of, if no one can love me, I at least love myself, and I left work one night for the bridge.
There was ice in the water below the bridge and I felt so free, I decided to be homeless for a freezing night instead of dying. People drove by and laughed and taunted and it didn't seem unusual, and the other homeless sleeping in sleeping bags on the bus platforms didn't surprise me.
I made it to the hospital, and I stayed there and didn't get better; I probably died somewhere there, as everything since has been awful, at best I found peace for a slight bit on some days after.
After the hospital, I had an apartment in a place where you can feel like a celebrity, or I did.
I became sort of narcissistic, dressing up in tight pants, wearing sunscreen that looked like makeup; living off the stares. Hoping a beautiful woman would say hello, instead I got just whispers of creepy and weird. I wish I could say hello and then be something.
My money almost ran out before I found a job, two, one was related to school and was very hard. I wasn't liked in either place. One place had a gentleman who kept recommending suicide and pointing out my flaws, and I laughed; I started to realize I liked pain, and maybe always had.
One day before a shift at work, I was listening to music, alone and content while walking in the woods, and my scatterbrained head forgot to check the schedule for tough job. that job called, and I panicked, I rushed home fighting off tears as I'd always do when in public (until I couldn't cry at all) after telling them I'd be there soon.
I had a boxcutter, and so I cut myself, and felt happy, calm.
I went to work, and they didn't even need me after all!
So every day for the last two years became a sort of repeat of hopes to meet someone, sitting in a coffee shop, having hopes that leave me in a tearful state at the end of everyday.
I have so many dreams of what I would do, of things I should have said, of beautiful faces I'll never know.
I began to cope by going into the woods at night and singing too myself and thinking about death in a sort of strong sense, as if I was some martyr or some smarter thing than these people trapped in the repetitions of life. I was just coping with my rejection by trying to make myself into some pure ideal. I know suffering doesn't make you special even if you want it to, at least as I want to be, as special as other sufferers may secretly want to be.
After walking out of one job, I left the other, and moved to a very tough job which I currently do, in a lonelier place with much less to do.
I'll be twenty five soon, and every day hurts a lot to be alive, or I don't feel anything, or sometimes after cutting myself, I laugh like a kid again for a short time. I just bought a laptop, and I'm trying to copy and edit the things I wrote in my notebook, but they're not good enough to give me any hard-accepted hope of explaining and excusing myself.
Really, I know, how I'm seen, how I am forgotten, and how no, no one cares, as people like me die all the time.
Lately I've begun to understand the stare I receive, it's curiosity, as others know I will die soon, and they want to see someone like me, to sate the desired cruelty that is the only lasting love humanity has ever shown me. Everyone is hurting and can't do anything other than hurt each other. Everyone hates each other, and I don't understand why, when everyone is so beautiful, and I know this, every little thing I see others do; I wish I could be just like you.
I wish I could find someone that loves me, I wish I could be smart, I wish I could have a family without hurting the ones I love.
I understand I'm just not like everyone else, and there's nothing that can be done.
Everyday reminds me of this, and I'm starting to look more and more like my mother, and my uncle who killed himself.
I cut myself now just if a woman I like doesn't acknowledge me, or I get mad at someone for something silly.
Everyday when I take my shirt off and stare in the mirror I think of what life is doing to me and I don't know if I can keep trying.
I've always been alone, and today I realized I hurt someone who I wanted to be a friend.
It's so easy to be tough and cool when you can if you're hurting and I have become very selfish when it comes to sharing.
I just want to be seen before I go. I'm bitter and that hurts the most, that I have to ask for this sort of revenge.
Thanks. This will probably be my last post.
