So there I was in La Crosse. Just like that I was free. But I had no job, no driver's license and no hope of ever getting anywhere. I brought my bike, which was promptly stolen and recovered. We lived in this little efficiency apartment on Ninth street, almost across from the main library. It was a hot summer. I applied for jobs and got one at the Wisconsin Conservation Corps. It was more of a training program than a job. I threw myself right out into the world of work and life. My own life. The thing is there was one condition, for me to stay there. I had to start attending the church of Jehovah's witnesses again. Considering my past with them, I wasn't to keen on the idea.
I started that a began where I had left off, rejoining the ministry school to give bible readings and to become active in the field ministry. I also began studying to become baptised with a fellow called Doug. At the same time, my job consisted of weatherizing houses for CouleeCap. On the other side I started smoking cigarettes and started smoking weed. I didn't care. It was fun. But the depression and anxiety was still there from what I had experienced.
I hung out with my brothers friends, Ken, John and Andy. They where from the church. I also began drinking at this time, which would later become my drug of choice for the years to come. I first got hooked on alcohol when Dave had brought in some jello mixed with vodka to school. We ate it right in the middle of sociology class. We also snuck out once, when there was a substitute teacher and drove around with Becca and they smoked as I rode along.
My first movie outside of the house was Air Force One. My first experience with other people was the second day after I moved. There was a graduation party for one of the girls from the church. Some I was forced to go. I didn't know anyone and some people tried to talk to me, but I didn't know what to say or do. One girl tried to figure me out right away. Her name was Cassidy. She disliked my brother, and tried to see if I was different. I some ways I was but to her I was the same.
This was also the same time I would meet some of the M family. Why do I mention them? For one they became a sort or surrogate family, until shit would hit the fan years later. One of them was okay, the others still judged me as my brother. The okay one, Brandon was like me. He was a rebel. He didn't take kindly to being told what to do. One or two people liked me, but the others treated me like a disease. They stayed away from me as far or as long as possible.
My job went okay. I was fun. My co-workers where cool. But I still longed for home. Mostly because of my surrogate family I had left behind. I would visit if I could. By the end of summer I would see Kat again and check in. She went to college and we lost contact after that for a long time. I finally got my driver's license. Went to Viroqua the second weekend I had it, to visit Dave and Leslie. We hung out a their friends house outside of town and smoked pot and had fun. That was until Chernobyl dug her nose into my life and found me. The bitch ordered me to the house. It wasn't because it was snowing, or because I had left and not told anyone. It was just her way of trying to keep the control over my life as she had done for eighteen fucking years! Nothing happened. I went even though I was still stoned. I don't think she noticed, because she never had done that drug.
Fall turned into winter into spring. My mind was still gone. I studied to join the church. I quit smoking. Didn't drink much. Just followed what I was told to do. I had set the date for my baptisim. June 27, 1998. It was to be at the district convention in Rochester. I thought that all of my friends would be there to see me take the biggest step in my my. As true to my life, no one was there. They where to busy to go eat or to chase tail to see me join a religion. I was disappointed and made my feelings known. I was told that if I didn't like it why did I even become bapitised. That is where things began to go downhill.
Although, June 27 was an obvious error in judgment, it was a day that a future friend, a future surrogate would take the same choice.
Kimberly. I first met her at the sunday church meeting. She was engaged to dumbass, as she calls him now. It wasn't her first trip either. She was older than him and I. She had some of the same problems as I did. When I went on a trip to the Mall of America, which I finally was allowed to go on, I stated that I was manic-depressive. Dumbass mentioned that she was too. This began the next chapter in my life.
Dumbass didn't like it that his wife and I clicked so well, as friends. Kimberly began to help me out with my mental state. She took me to the free clinic in La Crosse-St. Claires health mission. There I was referred to La Crosse county human services, where I met with my first therapist. I was diagnosed with severe depression. Kimberly had me try St. John's wort a natural herb to fight depression. I was put on Paxil at first. In therapy learned all these new terms like depression, and triggers, ups and downs, feelings. This was about 2000. It had been five years since I was reborn, but I still had to deal with my former life. It was the life I had ended on that partly cloudy day in November so many years ago.
My depression and mood didn't help my job either. You see I started working for Dumbass' father. His name is Asshole. That is what he is and what his name is and no one should say any different.
My drinking didn't help with my scrambled head either. I was elevating more and more. I never stopped writing during this time. My musings went away from poetry and became more questioning my life. It was 2000. I watched the new millenium come in from 15 and Main in La Crosse, watching the fireworks atop Grandad's Bluff. The second week my grandfather George died form a heart attack. My grandparents had just celebrated their 60th wedding anniversery three weeks before. It was typical of my family, not to have a big funeral. Probably because nobody cared. I was one of the pallbearers.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
12th grade-a New Day
It was a new day. A new life. My life, not someone else's. Everyone was preparing for life after school. I was not. I was reborn. I had a new found lease on life. And I had no idea how things would turn out. The bible says the you should throw your burden on God and all other things would be added to you. It also says that God will never give you anymore grief and stress then you can take. Apparently I'm God's shit bucket where he adds everyone else's frustration and anger and stress to dump on. Than again maybe it has made me stronger. I just don't know.
By this time I was gradually began to take interest in popular music. You see the only music I had known up until then was the radio station-a country station and oldies. That was all my parents listened to. I began watching VH-1 because we didn't have MTV on our cable system. I liked the music of Alanis Morisette and Fiona Apple. I still do to this day. I also like Spacehog and the Beatles.
But on to school. It was decidedly different. I didn't care what I did or what grades I got. I just went in and did the best I could. I was still depressed to a point, and still had suicidal thoughts. I guess the group of kids I became a kind of surrogate family. One I never had, who treated me like a human being instead of a burden. Chernobyl still threatened to do things to me, such as get me fired from my job because I failed English 12, in the first semester. Although the teacher was a complete bitch, yes Mrs. Linefelder was a bitch. She also failed others, I think just because she didn't like them.
My surrogate Family consisted of those who remained after my incident. They where Dave and his friends Leslie, Sonia, Andy, Leslie and Kat. They where different than the other kids. They showed me that there was something more in me than just school and work. They showed me that I had potential. Even though there where some bad kids, some who had abused me in the past apologized for what they did, Like Jason E. That was something also very new to me.
Dave and Andy where into drugs big time, but I never joined in, until I left town, because
if Chernobyl would have known I would have been killed. I also didn't help that the county sheriff was my fifth cousin, and his wife was my intro pre-calc teacher the year before. So I just went along with them when they would tell stories of snorting something or doing this or that. That is the biggest problem in that town-drugs.
I also hung out with another of Dave's friends. Her name was Becca. I don't know much about her but I have the feeling she had some of the same setting at home as I did. She hung out with her friends and Dave, Her and I where seated in the back corner of Mr. Boll's sociology class. We always raised hell there to the dismay of the teacher. Even when he tired to randomly rearrange seats, we all where put together in the same place. Was it fate? No. you see what could have been a great friendship was derailed when I told her I was moving. Things never seemed to be right between us, and after the summer after I sent her a letter, explaining why I couldn't be her friend, because I wanted to help her with her life even though my life was at best, in ciaos. I don't think she ever wanted to be friends, because she didn't want to get close to someone because she was always moving, and didn't stay anywhere for long. Could be a reasonable response. Probably not.
Another person I have to mention, is Kat. Sweet dear Katherine who never made an enemy and tried to be everybody's friend. She had came from Westby the year before and had gone through a lot of bad stuff like me. She then had a kid at the tender age of 17-yes senior year. She really taught me how to accept and how to love. And that's not what you think. She saw something in me. A lost child perhaps, like her, who needed help. It was the one thing that got me through the days where the thoughts that I didn't matter came back. She hugged me almost every time she saw me. It was the beginning of a new start but, hold on. This was February 1997. I only had three months to change-everything.
I began a petition to change the rules of the school. As I said before we received a rule book every year a the start of school and I tore off the cover and threw it in the garbage. Why change the rules? So what happened to me didn't have to happen. You see the school was corrupt. The superintendent who yelled at me for kicking a locker in seventh grade was the football coach in the 70's and he was giving steroids to the players and was fired for it. Then twenty years later he was made superintendent. At least the principal the last two years was good. Probably because he was a cop. Yes a Vernon county deputy sheriff to be exact. Mr. Harris would not tolerate any misbehavior. He would bust kids who went out to smoke. There was an uptick in drug searches in school, although none of my friends where ever caught. My friends, that a misnomer. They where friends of other friends, mostly.
Three months to figure out what I was going to do with my life. Then it all became clear-GET THE FUCK OUT OF VIROQUA!
My older brother lived in La Crosse for awhile now and that was my plan. Even though my father would borrow money to gamble away I still managed to save money. I Even bought a car with what I earned. I paid $150 for and 1987 Ford Escort and spent another hundred getting it to run fine. It was also an standard-manual- shift car. But I didn't have a driver's license. I had taken the driving test twice and failed because my parents never had enough time to take me out to practice. We where told to have about 80 hours of practice before we even tried to go for a test. I had about 6 hours.
I also was allowed to hang out with my friends after school, which was new. I also attended the 'other' school-Youth Inititive high school, where Joshua had gone. Those kids where very different than the main school. I watch a play they put on there, and hung out at Dave's house-much to the chagrin of Chernobyl.
School was the same with the bullying.. Jeremy tried to push my buttons in gym class the year before and I nearly punched him out. You see I switched classes to avoid another bully and ended up in this one. I was tired of Jay and his bullshit so I walked right out of the class went to the guidance counselor and changed classes. My cousin had to calm me down, so I wouldn't sink to his level.
Change. Everything was moving fast. But there was a little plan to make sure I didn't make graduation. You see, Dave gave me a book on how to make bombs and blow stuff up. I never looked at it, although some kids in sociology class where interested. That there was the reason for my first ever call to the principal's office. Actually it was the assistant principal. Then I was called into Mr. Harris' office. He asked me if I was planning anything. I was not. He asked for the book, so I gave it to him. It didn't concern me until the last day of school.
The last day was as usual the same bullshit. It was a half day, and the next day was graduation. Jay and Korey tried to bring out my anger, and I was fed up. After 13 years of abuse I was done. So I told them if I ever saw them after that day that I would kill them. This now got the attention of the Viroqua police department. So I was sitting at home alone watching a movie, and there was a knock on the door. It was an investigator from the police. He asked me if I was planning anything. He asked to see the garage and the basement. I told him I was planning to move soon, and wasn't planning anything. He took my word for it and left. Then I knew. I didn't make a damn bit of difference! The last two years where for nothing. There where some great things, but the same old attitude was still there. Nothing had changed. I went to graduation, dreading to be with these people one last time. For one it would be a granted freedom form all the ass holes and bitches and bullies. On the other hand I had to say goodbye to some very dear friends.
Graduation went well, because Chernobyl convinced herself she didn't have a ticket and would not attend. She also said there would be no party for me because of whatever reason. My older brother had one. My younger brother had one. Not me. Just not me. So I went to Kat and Emily's party a couple blocks away. All my friends where there. I saw this as a farewell for now.
The plan was set, although fate ever so cruel as it is to me, would deal another blow. You see graduation was May 31, 1997. I planned to move the very next weekend to La Crosse. I wasn't the first to move out of my parents house though. I helped Dave move the next Wednesday to his place in town. It was nice, but I knew Dave. He was in trouble with his life and such and I knew it wouldn't last. That was my goodbye to him. Friday night I rode my bicycle out Railroad Avenue for the last time. It was night, which I never had done before. Then it was off to Kat's place to say goodbye. She was home with her kid, Logan. We talked for awhile. Then I said that I was moving-tomorrow. I could see she was upset and would have wanted me to stay if I could. I had already made up my mind. I was leaving this town and all of the bullshit behind.
Moving. Well, this was tricky. You see my idiot older brother has rolled his car two weeks before, doing some stupid stunt. He had rolled a vehicle before, and would again. I had some of my stuff packed. Mainly just my clothes and $250. We got a call early that morning that he was out camping with my parents car and it had been rolled over by some drunk high school kids who where caught by the cops. The only reason they where caught is because he was shooting of guns and fireworks and drinking with underage friends of his. I was supremely pissed off now. He has his parents car towed to Viroqua from Galesville where he was camping. He then had to borrow my car, so he could get to work. I told him if ever broke anything on my car I would kill him. It was the only thing I had worth anything.
By this time I was gradually began to take interest in popular music. You see the only music I had known up until then was the radio station-a country station and oldies. That was all my parents listened to. I began watching VH-1 because we didn't have MTV on our cable system. I liked the music of Alanis Morisette and Fiona Apple. I still do to this day. I also like Spacehog and the Beatles.
But on to school. It was decidedly different. I didn't care what I did or what grades I got. I just went in and did the best I could. I was still depressed to a point, and still had suicidal thoughts. I guess the group of kids I became a kind of surrogate family. One I never had, who treated me like a human being instead of a burden. Chernobyl still threatened to do things to me, such as get me fired from my job because I failed English 12, in the first semester. Although the teacher was a complete bitch, yes Mrs. Linefelder was a bitch. She also failed others, I think just because she didn't like them.
My surrogate Family consisted of those who remained after my incident. They where Dave and his friends Leslie, Sonia, Andy, Leslie and Kat. They where different than the other kids. They showed me that there was something more in me than just school and work. They showed me that I had potential. Even though there where some bad kids, some who had abused me in the past apologized for what they did, Like Jason E. That was something also very new to me.
Dave and Andy where into drugs big time, but I never joined in, until I left town, because
if Chernobyl would have known I would have been killed. I also didn't help that the county sheriff was my fifth cousin, and his wife was my intro pre-calc teacher the year before. So I just went along with them when they would tell stories of snorting something or doing this or that. That is the biggest problem in that town-drugs.
I also hung out with another of Dave's friends. Her name was Becca. I don't know much about her but I have the feeling she had some of the same setting at home as I did. She hung out with her friends and Dave, Her and I where seated in the back corner of Mr. Boll's sociology class. We always raised hell there to the dismay of the teacher. Even when he tired to randomly rearrange seats, we all where put together in the same place. Was it fate? No. you see what could have been a great friendship was derailed when I told her I was moving. Things never seemed to be right between us, and after the summer after I sent her a letter, explaining why I couldn't be her friend, because I wanted to help her with her life even though my life was at best, in ciaos. I don't think she ever wanted to be friends, because she didn't want to get close to someone because she was always moving, and didn't stay anywhere for long. Could be a reasonable response. Probably not.
Another person I have to mention, is Kat. Sweet dear Katherine who never made an enemy and tried to be everybody's friend. She had came from Westby the year before and had gone through a lot of bad stuff like me. She then had a kid at the tender age of 17-yes senior year. She really taught me how to accept and how to love. And that's not what you think. She saw something in me. A lost child perhaps, like her, who needed help. It was the one thing that got me through the days where the thoughts that I didn't matter came back. She hugged me almost every time she saw me. It was the beginning of a new start but, hold on. This was February 1997. I only had three months to change-everything.
I began a petition to change the rules of the school. As I said before we received a rule book every year a the start of school and I tore off the cover and threw it in the garbage. Why change the rules? So what happened to me didn't have to happen. You see the school was corrupt. The superintendent who yelled at me for kicking a locker in seventh grade was the football coach in the 70's and he was giving steroids to the players and was fired for it. Then twenty years later he was made superintendent. At least the principal the last two years was good. Probably because he was a cop. Yes a Vernon county deputy sheriff to be exact. Mr. Harris would not tolerate any misbehavior. He would bust kids who went out to smoke. There was an uptick in drug searches in school, although none of my friends where ever caught. My friends, that a misnomer. They where friends of other friends, mostly.
Three months to figure out what I was going to do with my life. Then it all became clear-GET THE FUCK OUT OF VIROQUA!
My older brother lived in La Crosse for awhile now and that was my plan. Even though my father would borrow money to gamble away I still managed to save money. I Even bought a car with what I earned. I paid $150 for and 1987 Ford Escort and spent another hundred getting it to run fine. It was also an standard-manual- shift car. But I didn't have a driver's license. I had taken the driving test twice and failed because my parents never had enough time to take me out to practice. We where told to have about 80 hours of practice before we even tried to go for a test. I had about 6 hours.
I also was allowed to hang out with my friends after school, which was new. I also attended the 'other' school-Youth Inititive high school, where Joshua had gone. Those kids where very different than the main school. I watch a play they put on there, and hung out at Dave's house-much to the chagrin of Chernobyl.
School was the same with the bullying.. Jeremy tried to push my buttons in gym class the year before and I nearly punched him out. You see I switched classes to avoid another bully and ended up in this one. I was tired of Jay and his bullshit so I walked right out of the class went to the guidance counselor and changed classes. My cousin had to calm me down, so I wouldn't sink to his level.
Change. Everything was moving fast. But there was a little plan to make sure I didn't make graduation. You see, Dave gave me a book on how to make bombs and blow stuff up. I never looked at it, although some kids in sociology class where interested. That there was the reason for my first ever call to the principal's office. Actually it was the assistant principal. Then I was called into Mr. Harris' office. He asked me if I was planning anything. I was not. He asked for the book, so I gave it to him. It didn't concern me until the last day of school.
The last day was as usual the same bullshit. It was a half day, and the next day was graduation. Jay and Korey tried to bring out my anger, and I was fed up. After 13 years of abuse I was done. So I told them if I ever saw them after that day that I would kill them. This now got the attention of the Viroqua police department. So I was sitting at home alone watching a movie, and there was a knock on the door. It was an investigator from the police. He asked me if I was planning anything. He asked to see the garage and the basement. I told him I was planning to move soon, and wasn't planning anything. He took my word for it and left. Then I knew. I didn't make a damn bit of difference! The last two years where for nothing. There where some great things, but the same old attitude was still there. Nothing had changed. I went to graduation, dreading to be with these people one last time. For one it would be a granted freedom form all the ass holes and bitches and bullies. On the other hand I had to say goodbye to some very dear friends.
Graduation went well, because Chernobyl convinced herself she didn't have a ticket and would not attend. She also said there would be no party for me because of whatever reason. My older brother had one. My younger brother had one. Not me. Just not me. So I went to Kat and Emily's party a couple blocks away. All my friends where there. I saw this as a farewell for now.
The plan was set, although fate ever so cruel as it is to me, would deal another blow. You see graduation was May 31, 1997. I planned to move the very next weekend to La Crosse. I wasn't the first to move out of my parents house though. I helped Dave move the next Wednesday to his place in town. It was nice, but I knew Dave. He was in trouble with his life and such and I knew it wouldn't last. That was my goodbye to him. Friday night I rode my bicycle out Railroad Avenue for the last time. It was night, which I never had done before. Then it was off to Kat's place to say goodbye. She was home with her kid, Logan. We talked for awhile. Then I said that I was moving-tomorrow. I could see she was upset and would have wanted me to stay if I could. I had already made up my mind. I was leaving this town and all of the bullshit behind.
Moving. Well, this was tricky. You see my idiot older brother has rolled his car two weeks before, doing some stupid stunt. He had rolled a vehicle before, and would again. I had some of my stuff packed. Mainly just my clothes and $250. We got a call early that morning that he was out camping with my parents car and it had been rolled over by some drunk high school kids who where caught by the cops. The only reason they where caught is because he was shooting of guns and fireworks and drinking with underage friends of his. I was supremely pissed off now. He has his parents car towed to Viroqua from Galesville where he was camping. He then had to borrow my car, so he could get to work. I told him if ever broke anything on my car I would kill him. It was the only thing I had worth anything.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Ninth grade thru zero hour...
9th grade-
Everyone about 12-14. Me still stuck at 6-7. Mental state worsening. Have DID, depression, anxiety, anger, ET AL. Complete mental case. Still had a crush on B, even though I knew I would never tell because of religion and Chernobyl.
More of the medical mistreatment occurred when I broke my wrist in gym class. I slipped on the wet grass when we where playing soccer on the football field heard a snap. I didn't cry or do anything abnormal. I went to the doctor two days later, the usual wait to see the dealer. It was broke but to late to set, so I got a brace and some x-rays. Then Chernobyl bitched about the fact that she would have to pay the $200 for it. I carried Nuprin on me even though it was against the rules of the school to have and medication on you. I usually took the school rules book we got at the beginning of every year and ripped the cover off it and threw it away. My wrist is still fucked up to this day. No cartilage and no more nerve endings no problem, right?
Joshua and me. I met Joshua in sixth grade. We hung out at recess because we where different. He was a Mormon I was a JW., but not really. Eighth grade he took at home because he didn't want to deal with the same shit I had to. Ninth grade he was back and we raise hell like no one else would dare. We once moved table right in the middle of Mr. Tubb's science class because it wobbled.
By this time the teachers knew I was a incident waiting to happen and didn't care either. Was it collusion? Conspiracy? We'll never know. They pushed me to show everyone that I was different like Mrs. Getter's English class and the story from the first chapter. I had no safe place but my mind and it was failing me. My grades went 3.3 GPA to 2.7 to 2.3 to 2.2. Something was happening to me.
Z minus one year.
10th grade-Ignorance is not the best thing to do.
So now even the teachers hated me. Mrs. Cohen my geometry teacher absolutely abhorred me. Mr. Getter my algebra II teacher hated me as well. Mr. boll who didn't take kindly to me in his seventh grade social studies and of course, disliked me even more in US history I. No one knows why or what made me do it. This is the build up to the end of the story.
Basically I ignored everyone, including Joshua at times. I didn't talk to anyone even when they tried to talk to me. David and Jeremy tried to get me angry to make them look good, but
I just walked away like it didn't affect me. I hid out in the empty corners of the school, either down by the locker rooms or by the industrial arts area.
I had for eleven years to try to fit in but couldn't so I gave up. I quit caring, liking, learning, and living. Tenth grade was a a maze of algebra and geometry and US History. I just didn't care anymore, and no one would stop me from what I was about to do.
With no job, no future and no way out it all became clear. I didn't make a difference. I wasn't going to be accepted. I wasn't going anywhere. I was not going to graduate. I was never going to be in love or ever have anyone love me. No one would know the deep dark place my mind went. That summer I did nothing which meant not even playing with my little brother. I just prepared for the end-my end.
The thoughts of suicide entered my mind about February or March of 1995. I was 15. I saw no future in me of life. I would never make it to sixteen.
11th grade-Z minus 2 months
Warning! The following chapter contains acts of violence. Reader discretion is advised.
I started writing notes over the summer. Different drafts, different ways to says what I felt. I wasn't going to make a difference. I couldn't change history for the better. It was a wrong I couldn't right. I wrote a note and gave it to Joshua. He gave me a mix tape saying not to do it. I only listened to the first part. I made drawings in class and on the computer program Paint in Business Computer Applications. Wendy, who sat in front of my asked me one day what I was drawing and
I showed her. She was confused but said nothing.
Nobody knew what I was feeling. After years of keeping my feelings bottled up they where ready to come out. I was in need of releasing myself from the abhorrent and abused and evil and inconsiderable life.
October 1995-Z minus 3 weeks
I watch the Quantum Leap episode of Lee Harvey Oswald again. I watch the scene where Sam as Oswald argues with Al when Oswald tried to commit suicide by slashing his wrists. The idea becomes clear.
November 1995-Z minus 2 days. I write the final version of my note. I do not say goodbye to family, only friends. I don't want to be stopped, I want out. Everyday became worse, trying to keep my emotions at bay. I just couldn't do it anymore.
Z minus 0 hour-
After another stress filled lunch being bullied, I walk around in a daze. I went to my locker and fumbled through it and found it-a math compass. I walked around still dazed and my inner voice said-Do It! DO IT NOW!
So I did. A cut to the left wrist. It felt...good! Another cut against the first. Better yet! By now, someone had noticed. After all I was doing this in a crowded hallway during lunch break. I think it was a girl named Vickie, who noticed first. I was shocked and fled outside. There I felt the cold November air for the last time and took two more swipes. By now, some students had been returning from lunch and didn't notice what I had done. They left me alone, until I went back inside.
No one cared. Nobody cared what I just did. I WAS RIGHT! I didn't make a damn bit of difference. Yeah for fucking me~!
I was...free. Written summer 1997
Light, floating quiet
old places, old friends
lone gone long forgotten
and about the one who has gone
the one who left with sacrifice
the one who had died
whispers...dark...cold
the light...it is there
a voice...go toward the light
I need to watch them
they will be alright
the voice says calmly
I don't want to go yet
floating...float...flying
in the ceiling of the school
the hallway-floating
people the one knew
the art display case
walls with lockers
floating...the entrance
sunlight-blue sky
bare trees without leaves
warm temperatures
a need to talk to them
but he can't...unable to
do anything...but watch
listen-they are good friends
...they haven't forgotten have they?
Maybe they have...is it possibl-pulling
through the roof to the
high place in the sky to
the spirit of the voice
It is your time it says
yes, they have forgotten
there is no sense in staying
they will always remember you
is that a possibility
there are always possibilities
will they think I've abandoned them
no, they know you better
than you think you do
the light, go toward the light
is it safe?
Yes
Will I be happy
You will be filled with joyous
praise and love for all mankind
they will be all right
asks the one in the light
they will be fine
know you are and always will be
with them
are they sad...asks the one
they are indeed
do they miss me
yes
I will go onward the light is with you
the one says to the voice
will I be happy the one asks
You will be...
The students who saw notified Principal Sciacca who found me. I was whisked away to his office where I surrendered the weapon. I was calm and collected. I felt free, free from all the strife and bullshit over that last fifteen years.
I was taken to Ms. Holt the school psychologist and then lost it. I missed my first class Spanish III and part of resource period.
I set out what I had planned for so long. Part of me did die that day. It was November 1995 and the school paused at least for the moment. The year of death had claimed another victim, although it was not accident or disease that had taken the one from them. It was himself. He pulled the plug on his own miserable existence. Time would tell if there was hope for him,. The old bitter, beaten, downtrodden self was gone. His selfish act had claimed only one, but affected many. I t remained to be seen if a new person would be born our of the fire and blood that he had spilled of him self. If a new one returned, he would be human.
Aftermath-Everything changes
Both principal Sciacca and Ms. Holt convinced me to promise I wouldn't do this again and return to school the next day. I did return.
I was reborn. I was born, out of the fire and blood I spilled of myself in November nineteen hundred and ninety-six. I was the talk of the school, at least for awhile. I saw the weirdest looks from people when I returned as well. They probably thought I would be held for a 72 hour stay in the hospital and then taken away to the loony bin, never to be seen or heard from again.
My parents found out, of course. Chernobyl said of thinking of suicide, that it was stupid. My dad never said anything of it, or must not have cared. For the next year and a half I was put on the fast track to get out of their house.
All of my teachers asked me if I was alright to be there, the day after. I wasn't but said yes. No further interventions or interviews where done. No follow ups by Ms. Holt. It was as if I had done nothing. Now can you see the collusion and conspiracy here.
I had the fresh wounds on my wrist yet. I would sometimes show them at school, but hide them at home. I didn't want society to see me in pain both emotional and physical. I was heard, but it was not the reason why I did the act. I wanted silence but got something else in return. It was something that I thought I never had or would ever get-friends!
No one ever asked about it to my face. Maybe they didn't want a death on their concense. I know some walked on eggshells around me, so I wouldn't try again. It was for the best, I think.
Joshua left public school after. He never returned. I became employed at the small grocery store in the middle of town in late December. Things where changing fast some for the better, some still the same.
My calculator as just a calculator. The personalities where gone. The fear was gone. I went from a 7-8 year old maturity to a 14-16 year old maturity in a short amount of time. Some people would say that I would go to jail for trying to kill myself,saying that it was a crime. Even though my statement was bold it wasn't enough to stop some from bullying me for the rest of school. My new tormenter-Jay and an old foe-Jeremy.
On the last day of my junior year I would talk to people again. It was a new beginning.
Everyone about 12-14. Me still stuck at 6-7. Mental state worsening. Have DID, depression, anxiety, anger, ET AL. Complete mental case. Still had a crush on B, even though I knew I would never tell because of religion and Chernobyl.
More of the medical mistreatment occurred when I broke my wrist in gym class. I slipped on the wet grass when we where playing soccer on the football field heard a snap. I didn't cry or do anything abnormal. I went to the doctor two days later, the usual wait to see the dealer. It was broke but to late to set, so I got a brace and some x-rays. Then Chernobyl bitched about the fact that she would have to pay the $200 for it. I carried Nuprin on me even though it was against the rules of the school to have and medication on you. I usually took the school rules book we got at the beginning of every year and ripped the cover off it and threw it away. My wrist is still fucked up to this day. No cartilage and no more nerve endings no problem, right?
Joshua and me. I met Joshua in sixth grade. We hung out at recess because we where different. He was a Mormon I was a JW., but not really. Eighth grade he took at home because he didn't want to deal with the same shit I had to. Ninth grade he was back and we raise hell like no one else would dare. We once moved table right in the middle of Mr. Tubb's science class because it wobbled.
By this time the teachers knew I was a incident waiting to happen and didn't care either. Was it collusion? Conspiracy? We'll never know. They pushed me to show everyone that I was different like Mrs. Getter's English class and the story from the first chapter. I had no safe place but my mind and it was failing me. My grades went 3.3 GPA to 2.7 to 2.3 to 2.2. Something was happening to me.
Z minus one year.
10th grade-Ignorance is not the best thing to do.
So now even the teachers hated me. Mrs. Cohen my geometry teacher absolutely abhorred me. Mr. Getter my algebra II teacher hated me as well. Mr. boll who didn't take kindly to me in his seventh grade social studies and of course, disliked me even more in US history I. No one knows why or what made me do it. This is the build up to the end of the story.
Basically I ignored everyone, including Joshua at times. I didn't talk to anyone even when they tried to talk to me. David and Jeremy tried to get me angry to make them look good, but
I just walked away like it didn't affect me. I hid out in the empty corners of the school, either down by the locker rooms or by the industrial arts area.
I had for eleven years to try to fit in but couldn't so I gave up. I quit caring, liking, learning, and living. Tenth grade was a a maze of algebra and geometry and US History. I just didn't care anymore, and no one would stop me from what I was about to do.
With no job, no future and no way out it all became clear. I didn't make a difference. I wasn't going to be accepted. I wasn't going anywhere. I was not going to graduate. I was never going to be in love or ever have anyone love me. No one would know the deep dark place my mind went. That summer I did nothing which meant not even playing with my little brother. I just prepared for the end-my end.
The thoughts of suicide entered my mind about February or March of 1995. I was 15. I saw no future in me of life. I would never make it to sixteen.
11th grade-Z minus 2 months
Warning! The following chapter contains acts of violence. Reader discretion is advised.
I started writing notes over the summer. Different drafts, different ways to says what I felt. I wasn't going to make a difference. I couldn't change history for the better. It was a wrong I couldn't right. I wrote a note and gave it to Joshua. He gave me a mix tape saying not to do it. I only listened to the first part. I made drawings in class and on the computer program Paint in Business Computer Applications. Wendy, who sat in front of my asked me one day what I was drawing and
I showed her. She was confused but said nothing.
Nobody knew what I was feeling. After years of keeping my feelings bottled up they where ready to come out. I was in need of releasing myself from the abhorrent and abused and evil and inconsiderable life.
October 1995-Z minus 3 weeks
I watch the Quantum Leap episode of Lee Harvey Oswald again. I watch the scene where Sam as Oswald argues with Al when Oswald tried to commit suicide by slashing his wrists. The idea becomes clear.
November 1995-Z minus 2 days. I write the final version of my note. I do not say goodbye to family, only friends. I don't want to be stopped, I want out. Everyday became worse, trying to keep my emotions at bay. I just couldn't do it anymore.
Z minus 0 hour-
After another stress filled lunch being bullied, I walk around in a daze. I went to my locker and fumbled through it and found it-a math compass. I walked around still dazed and my inner voice said-Do It! DO IT NOW!
So I did. A cut to the left wrist. It felt...good! Another cut against the first. Better yet! By now, someone had noticed. After all I was doing this in a crowded hallway during lunch break. I think it was a girl named Vickie, who noticed first. I was shocked and fled outside. There I felt the cold November air for the last time and took two more swipes. By now, some students had been returning from lunch and didn't notice what I had done. They left me alone, until I went back inside.
No one cared. Nobody cared what I just did. I WAS RIGHT! I didn't make a damn bit of difference. Yeah for fucking me~!
I was...free. Written summer 1997
Light, floating quiet
old places, old friends
lone gone long forgotten
and about the one who has gone
the one who left with sacrifice
the one who had died
whispers...dark...cold
the light...it is there
a voice...go toward the light
I need to watch them
they will be alright
the voice says calmly
I don't want to go yet
floating...float...flying
in the ceiling of the school
the hallway-floating
people the one knew
the art display case
walls with lockers
floating...the entrance
sunlight-blue sky
bare trees without leaves
warm temperatures
a need to talk to them
but he can't...unable to
do anything...but watch
listen-they are good friends
...they haven't forgotten have they?
Maybe they have...is it possibl-pulling
through the roof to the
high place in the sky to
the spirit of the voice
It is your time it says
yes, they have forgotten
there is no sense in staying
they will always remember you
is that a possibility
there are always possibilities
will they think I've abandoned them
no, they know you better
than you think you do
the light, go toward the light
is it safe?
Yes
Will I be happy
You will be filled with joyous
praise and love for all mankind
they will be all right
asks the one in the light
they will be fine
know you are and always will be
with them
are they sad...asks the one
they are indeed
do they miss me
yes
I will go onward the light is with you
the one says to the voice
will I be happy the one asks
You will be...
The students who saw notified Principal Sciacca who found me. I was whisked away to his office where I surrendered the weapon. I was calm and collected. I felt free, free from all the strife and bullshit over that last fifteen years.
I was taken to Ms. Holt the school psychologist and then lost it. I missed my first class Spanish III and part of resource period.
I set out what I had planned for so long. Part of me did die that day. It was November 1995 and the school paused at least for the moment. The year of death had claimed another victim, although it was not accident or disease that had taken the one from them. It was himself. He pulled the plug on his own miserable existence. Time would tell if there was hope for him,. The old bitter, beaten, downtrodden self was gone. His selfish act had claimed only one, but affected many. I t remained to be seen if a new person would be born our of the fire and blood that he had spilled of him self. If a new one returned, he would be human.
Aftermath-Everything changes
Both principal Sciacca and Ms. Holt convinced me to promise I wouldn't do this again and return to school the next day. I did return.
I was reborn. I was born, out of the fire and blood I spilled of myself in November nineteen hundred and ninety-six. I was the talk of the school, at least for awhile. I saw the weirdest looks from people when I returned as well. They probably thought I would be held for a 72 hour stay in the hospital and then taken away to the loony bin, never to be seen or heard from again.
My parents found out, of course. Chernobyl said of thinking of suicide, that it was stupid. My dad never said anything of it, or must not have cared. For the next year and a half I was put on the fast track to get out of their house.
All of my teachers asked me if I was alright to be there, the day after. I wasn't but said yes. No further interventions or interviews where done. No follow ups by Ms. Holt. It was as if I had done nothing. Now can you see the collusion and conspiracy here.
I had the fresh wounds on my wrist yet. I would sometimes show them at school, but hide them at home. I didn't want society to see me in pain both emotional and physical. I was heard, but it was not the reason why I did the act. I wanted silence but got something else in return. It was something that I thought I never had or would ever get-friends!
No one ever asked about it to my face. Maybe they didn't want a death on their concense. I know some walked on eggshells around me, so I wouldn't try again. It was for the best, I think.
Joshua left public school after. He never returned. I became employed at the small grocery store in the middle of town in late December. Things where changing fast some for the better, some still the same.
My calculator as just a calculator. The personalities where gone. The fear was gone. I went from a 7-8 year old maturity to a 14-16 year old maturity in a short amount of time. Some people would say that I would go to jail for trying to kill myself,saying that it was a crime. Even though my statement was bold it wasn't enough to stop some from bullying me for the rest of school. My new tormenter-Jay and an old foe-Jeremy.
On the last day of my junior year I would talk to people again. It was a new beginning.
Friday, March 12, 2010
fifth thru 8th grades-middle school
5th grade-
Okay all the demeaning and torture and beating with bat and belt hadn't done enough. I still haven't lost my mind. That's next year.
This year we had two teachers-the uptight older Mr. Mehlum and the easy going but strict Mr. Bekkedal, whose daughter was in my class. One day she wanted to see my math boo, which where brand new that year. She was playing around and I pulled it back and a page was torn out of it. She begged me not to tell her father but I did because it was the right thing to do. Had I taken the blame I would have went home and been beaten or killed or worse-pulled from school.
It was also about this time that a girl named Kathy has a crush on me. She liked me. I said what is a crush? What is this like shit? Yes, I began swearing in school even before it was cool. My mother was also pleased with the fact that we where poor and forced us to wear the cheapest worse looking clothes ever. I tried to fit in by rolling up the cuffs of pants legs. Some where pleased that I was trying to fit in. Others where not and where like what is he doing. One good thing about fifth grade is that we won the track meet that year.
6th grade-
I begin to lose my mind.
Dissociative Identity Disorder[formerly Multiple personality disorder] (DID) is a psychiatric diagnosis that describes a condition in which a person displays multiple distinct identities or personalities (known as alter egos or alters), each with its own pattern of perceiving and interacting with the environment.
Teachers-Mr. Hepp/Mr. Daines. First fight with tormenter of the year-Jeremy. He punched me in the stomach for no apparent reason other than to humiliate me. He was sent to ALC[like detention, but not] Everyone thought he was a cool bad ass. To me he was my mother incarnate. Everyone's development-normal. Mine-6-7.
Okay, DID. I started to develop it this year and it would continue for the years to come. First I was James T. Kirk of the starship Enterprise, which was cloaked right outside the school in the softball field. My calculator was a communicator to the ship. I would do my daily captain's log by typing the stardate into my calculator.
Later on I was Dr. Sam Beckett who leaped back in time to save everyone but me, from me, Chad Heal. My calculator became a handlink to Ziggy and to my imaginary friend/observer/external personality Al. I was there to put right that once went wrong. I talked to Al as Sam, who leaped back and forth through 1992-3-4-5, to change history for the better, to make the world a better place.
Yeah, I was losing my mind dealing with all of the abuse at home and at school. Still cried for the silliest things when I would get into trouble for stuff I did. I didn't dare tell when my lunch tickets where stolen from my locker and the principal gave me a couple extra until he said he couldn't. I also used a black colored pencil for two months because I didn't dare ask for new pencils from Chernobyl and take the wrath and berating from her for using up and wasting money. The teachers would also let me do stuff like be late for assignments and help them out like writing the date on the chalk board, although I couldn't spell Tuesday.
Jeremy did piss off Mr. Hepp one time that he took him into the hall and slammed him up against the locker and yelled so loud that half the school heard him.
Sixth grade would also start the one-sided love affair with a girl-B. She was and still is beautiful. I began to like her for all the things that where not me. One of her friends, c, asked me if I liked anyone one day during recess. C went through a bunch of names of girls in out class, and when she said B's name I lied and said no.
Mr. Hepp would always look for the good in everyone. He always joked around but was strict to a point. I remember one day we had an exercise of who in your life had said that they love you. Love was a swear word in my family. When I asked Chernobyl one day she said it was for other people not us, and that we should appreciate what crap we had. Everyone had to raise their hands, to complete the exercise. First it was the everyday kids. Then the once a week, month and year. By now, everyone had their hand raised but me. Mr. Hepp asked me if anyone had said that ever. I lied and said once, because it was a concept foreign and evil to me.
No one had said that word to me, or about me. Later on Chernobyl would also say that we where poor, white trash and that no one would ever accept us. That phrase, that sentence would be my ultimate death sentence and would haunt my actions for years.
7th grade-Warning! The following chapter contains explicit acts of violence. Reader discretion is advised.
Teachers-Mrs. Trussoni, Mrs. Endicott, Mrs. J. Olson, none of which who helped me or would deal with my shit.
As sixth grade came and went, badger camp was disappointing, although it was the first time I had camped out. I felt myself like the television character of Jarod from the show 'The Pretender'. I was new to all these things. I was still losing my mind to keep others at bay. I was now in full blown, DID. I switched from Jim to Sam permanently.
Now the depression hit hard. Trying to deal with tormenters, Chernobyl, religion which I was more active in, but soon learned it was a popularity contest. Got nose bleeds more ofter due to stress. Parent-teacher conferences where always fun when Chernobyl would boldface lie and say everything was alright at home and shoved her beliefs on us and the school so I would be more anti-social. This would be the focal point of Jeremy and his hooligans for the next two years. One of his gang was a quick acquaintance, Shawn who betrayed me like leading a lamb to the wolves.
I no longer allowed myself to cry as well. I just bottled up my emotion. This would be the start. Z-minus four years to the Incident.
This would also be the year of my last and most vicious beating yet. I did something to enrage Chernobyl, I think it had something to do with doing dishes or something. She took out the Belt, ordered me to take down my pants and underwear as she gave me three lashes at first. She asked me if I would ever do it again and I accidentally said yes. So she gave me two more lashes in and rage infested in anger fueled by evil and hatred. How no one saw or commented on why I had severe bruising to the legs and back in the gym locker room, I never know.
By this time my dad had got a job at the school doing summer maintenance. Later he went up to a custodial position that Chernobyl threatened to sue if he didn't get. Even the middle school principal Mr. McGrath was afraid of her. This was good because no more being poor.
8th grade-
The others progressed as I regressed. My grades where great because I was held back from the advanced classes a year. Didn't do much but more of the same. Bullied by Jeremy and company. Became angry all the time, even kicked a locker which the superintendent saw and berated me further.
Playing football with my brothers, I was tackled hard and sprained my wrist, elbow, pinched a nerve in my elbow and tore something in my shoulder. This time, no doctor. Chernobyl berated me for getting hurt. I couldn't use my right arm for two weeks and spent the next five months rehabilitating it myself.
Okay all the demeaning and torture and beating with bat and belt hadn't done enough. I still haven't lost my mind. That's next year.
This year we had two teachers-the uptight older Mr. Mehlum and the easy going but strict Mr. Bekkedal, whose daughter was in my class. One day she wanted to see my math boo, which where brand new that year. She was playing around and I pulled it back and a page was torn out of it. She begged me not to tell her father but I did because it was the right thing to do. Had I taken the blame I would have went home and been beaten or killed or worse-pulled from school.
It was also about this time that a girl named Kathy has a crush on me. She liked me. I said what is a crush? What is this like shit? Yes, I began swearing in school even before it was cool. My mother was also pleased with the fact that we where poor and forced us to wear the cheapest worse looking clothes ever. I tried to fit in by rolling up the cuffs of pants legs. Some where pleased that I was trying to fit in. Others where not and where like what is he doing. One good thing about fifth grade is that we won the track meet that year.
6th grade-
I begin to lose my mind.
Dissociative Identity Disorder[formerly Multiple personality disorder] (DID) is a psychiatric diagnosis that describes a condition in which a person displays multiple distinct identities or personalities (known as alter egos or alters), each with its own pattern of perceiving and interacting with the environment.
Teachers-Mr. Hepp/Mr. Daines. First fight with tormenter of the year-Jeremy. He punched me in the stomach for no apparent reason other than to humiliate me. He was sent to ALC[like detention, but not] Everyone thought he was a cool bad ass. To me he was my mother incarnate. Everyone's development-normal. Mine-6-7.
Okay, DID. I started to develop it this year and it would continue for the years to come. First I was James T. Kirk of the starship Enterprise, which was cloaked right outside the school in the softball field. My calculator was a communicator to the ship. I would do my daily captain's log by typing the stardate into my calculator.
Later on I was Dr. Sam Beckett who leaped back in time to save everyone but me, from me, Chad Heal. My calculator became a handlink to Ziggy and to my imaginary friend/observer/external personality Al. I was there to put right that once went wrong. I talked to Al as Sam, who leaped back and forth through 1992-3-4-5, to change history for the better, to make the world a better place.
Yeah, I was losing my mind dealing with all of the abuse at home and at school. Still cried for the silliest things when I would get into trouble for stuff I did. I didn't dare tell when my lunch tickets where stolen from my locker and the principal gave me a couple extra until he said he couldn't. I also used a black colored pencil for two months because I didn't dare ask for new pencils from Chernobyl and take the wrath and berating from her for using up and wasting money. The teachers would also let me do stuff like be late for assignments and help them out like writing the date on the chalk board, although I couldn't spell Tuesday.
Jeremy did piss off Mr. Hepp one time that he took him into the hall and slammed him up against the locker and yelled so loud that half the school heard him.
Sixth grade would also start the one-sided love affair with a girl-B. She was and still is beautiful. I began to like her for all the things that where not me. One of her friends, c, asked me if I liked anyone one day during recess. C went through a bunch of names of girls in out class, and when she said B's name I lied and said no.
Mr. Hepp would always look for the good in everyone. He always joked around but was strict to a point. I remember one day we had an exercise of who in your life had said that they love you. Love was a swear word in my family. When I asked Chernobyl one day she said it was for other people not us, and that we should appreciate what crap we had. Everyone had to raise their hands, to complete the exercise. First it was the everyday kids. Then the once a week, month and year. By now, everyone had their hand raised but me. Mr. Hepp asked me if anyone had said that ever. I lied and said once, because it was a concept foreign and evil to me.
No one had said that word to me, or about me. Later on Chernobyl would also say that we where poor, white trash and that no one would ever accept us. That phrase, that sentence would be my ultimate death sentence and would haunt my actions for years.
7th grade-Warning! The following chapter contains explicit acts of violence. Reader discretion is advised.
Teachers-Mrs. Trussoni, Mrs. Endicott, Mrs. J. Olson, none of which who helped me or would deal with my shit.
As sixth grade came and went, badger camp was disappointing, although it was the first time I had camped out. I felt myself like the television character of Jarod from the show 'The Pretender'. I was new to all these things. I was still losing my mind to keep others at bay. I was now in full blown, DID. I switched from Jim to Sam permanently.
Now the depression hit hard. Trying to deal with tormenters, Chernobyl, religion which I was more active in, but soon learned it was a popularity contest. Got nose bleeds more ofter due to stress. Parent-teacher conferences where always fun when Chernobyl would boldface lie and say everything was alright at home and shoved her beliefs on us and the school so I would be more anti-social. This would be the focal point of Jeremy and his hooligans for the next two years. One of his gang was a quick acquaintance, Shawn who betrayed me like leading a lamb to the wolves.
I no longer allowed myself to cry as well. I just bottled up my emotion. This would be the start. Z-minus four years to the Incident.
This would also be the year of my last and most vicious beating yet. I did something to enrage Chernobyl, I think it had something to do with doing dishes or something. She took out the Belt, ordered me to take down my pants and underwear as she gave me three lashes at first. She asked me if I would ever do it again and I accidentally said yes. So she gave me two more lashes in and rage infested in anger fueled by evil and hatred. How no one saw or commented on why I had severe bruising to the legs and back in the gym locker room, I never know.
By this time my dad had got a job at the school doing summer maintenance. Later he went up to a custodial position that Chernobyl threatened to sue if he didn't get. Even the middle school principal Mr. McGrath was afraid of her. This was good because no more being poor.
8th grade-
The others progressed as I regressed. My grades where great because I was held back from the advanced classes a year. Didn't do much but more of the same. Bullied by Jeremy and company. Became angry all the time, even kicked a locker which the superintendent saw and berated me further.
Playing football with my brothers, I was tackled hard and sprained my wrist, elbow, pinched a nerve in my elbow and tore something in my shoulder. This time, no doctor. Chernobyl berated me for getting hurt. I couldn't use my right arm for two weeks and spent the next five months rehabilitating it myself.
2nd thru fourth grades-
2ND GRADE-
It was not any better than the last, and I had he first in a long line of bullies-David. He just push me and make me cry as I did often about the littlest things. He was good at it and gave my life even more negativity. It began in the fall with Mrs. Hubbard as my teacher. I love fall weather and still do to this day. But it also meant that now I had no safe haven. We where asked the first week or two what we did that summer. Others would talks about how their families went on vacations and camped out and had fun things happen. I didn't have that. When I was asked I would say, “Nothing.”
I was still not human because I was not one. I was something else. That is why I had anger and took it out on my brothers. That led to getting into trouble with Chernobyl. Around this time I had two traumas. First my younger brother and I where playing in the dining room of the house we rented on Center street. Apparently we where too loud, so my dad, who was in the adjacent living room came in and forced me, not Michael out and took the plastic baseball bat and swung at me. He tried to hit my backside but missed and blew out my right knee for the first time. I don't remember the next day but I didn't go to school because I couldn't walk.
Maybe it was because of my parents blood feud. You see they split up for awhile before I was in school in Viroqua. Chernobyl had left my dad because he is an alcoholic and lost his job in Readstown working for the town maintenance. I remember the day clearly. She packed up all of our clothes and her dishes. But didn't take the dog or cats, our toys, or anything else but her Elvis records. She pulled my older brother out of school, who was in second grade. He was crying and she was hurrying him up so we could make a quick escape. She took the back roads to My aunt and uncles place outside of Viroqua.
We live DuWayne and Carolyn and their three kids, Laura, Paul and Amy. We where there for four months if I remember. I started pre-school at this time and was afraid to get on the bus. Amy and my older brother had to drag me on. I vaguely remember any of pre-school with Mrs. Krambs. I once was playing next to and electrical outlet and stuck a key into a electrical socket and was electrocuted. What would a normal mother do. Feel bad for her offspring and comfort them? We Chernobyl ripped into me for being dumb and berated me and left me there on the floor to cry as my aunt looked on in horror. My cousin Amy also tried to keep Chernobyl at bay as well, but she was not going to be stopped from exacting revenge on her children for her supposed past.
One good thing is that others saw how she treated her children or us 'brats'. Whatever her past is or was I didn't give her the right to be the abuser. The other thing is that she was into taking over-the-counter and the prescription painkillers. She started on a script called Chlorinil-which she pronounced Chlorininal. She once told me that she took as many as 20-24 Tylenol and ibuprofen a day until she went on the prescriptions. I remember how many she took because my little brother and I used to play with the empty bottles when she couldn't get her scripts.
In second grade I also had my first bad ear infection. My mother made it out to be a burden to take us to the doctor and made damn sure we had to wait and we would go to the smallest clinic in the county-Kickapoo Valley Medical clinic. I lost part of my hearing in my right ear because of the wait.
That is where her dealer-Dr. Devitt was. She always went to him so she could get checked out for her pain from arthritis. Being a former nursing assistant she knew how and what they did, but she continued to do them anyway. At the age of 30-35 she had advanced arteriosclerosis arthritis from popping 20 pills or more a day for at least ten years. That is what destroyed your goddamn joints and immune system because you had to have your 'pain pills!' When she was on them she was good but when she ran out, usually before the script was up she was a pain.
She didn't take me to the doctor this time though. It was usually a half day thing, but my dad took me and we where in and out in a hour. At least being down with an ear infection allowed me to see my grandparents following the checkup. It was nice. I helped them move from the apartment they had in the low income housing to another one in the same building. I was nice to hang out with them and do fun things with my family. My grandfather George would always give us a quarter when we visited. This time he gave me a whole dollar. When I visited his grave not too long ago I left a quarter to him for the pleasant memories.
Trying to adjust to school was a task proving to be difficult. My dad was still unemployed and it didn't help with the worst recession we had at the time. He spent his time assembling jigsaw puzzles and watching television.
He was injured working on his truck at a farm near Readstown where he used to farmhand at. A jack stand fell over trapping him underneath. My mother verbally abused him wasting money for the ambulance ride to Vernon Memorial and verbally abused Bud, the farmhand's son who was helping him, and everyone else involved.
My dad was transferred to La Crosse's Gundersen-Luthuren hospital. This was the first non-school related trip there. My mother's brother drove us there. My dad broke his right arm, separated his left shoulder and broke two ribs.
I went to the doctor again this year when I accidentally slammed my thumb in a car door when closing it. Chernobyl was furious and let me sit in pain as she did the laundry. Eventually I went to Hirsch clinic and got my first x-ray. It was negative but I lost my first fingernail. I also did the dishes for the first time at age seven because the soapy water would help the wound. I also broke my nose and had a bad nosebleed from a line drive softball by my older brother. It was an accident, but Chernobyl didn't have any simpathy for it.
Rules number 2-There is no such things as accidents, they are all mistakes.
So no job yet again following the four months of recovery. We eventually moved from that house on Center street to the house my mother inherited from her late aunt June. This would be known as the domain of evil as it was the place I went after school. It was no house nor home but simply the place I kept my stuff for the next eleven years.
How can a home or house be so bad. Keep reading.
3rd grade-
I still didn't have any social skill. Just like this sentence I had no idea how to be. I learned personal space from my desk mate, as we had double seated desks that shared once table top. In would go into his stuff without permission, only to find out that this was wrong, unbeknownst to me. All of the class was together for the first time as the students from Liberty pole grades 1-2 came to the main school now. So we have more new student show I had no idea how to talk to.
At this time my mother became a fully devoted member of the Jehovah's witness's and as usual she bitched about everything about it. I really think it was to push us kids further in not being accepted by others because no one like someone who is different.
Maybe that's why some kids from the fourth grade trampled me down one afternoon and blew my knee out for the second time. My cousin Jessica and next door neighbor had to carry me into school and to my class.
4th grade-
Everyone else's emotional and mental well being-on par. Mine-far behind.
Fourth grade started up and went downhill from there. My third grade teacher, Mrs. Welch was fine but this year I had a male teacher-Mr. Weltzin. He didn't last long because a student filed a sexual harassment claim, which I think was false, but nevertheless he was fired. Then began the long line of six substitute teachers, among them Mrs. Hoffland, Mrs. Getter and Mrs. King.
The class was in chaos. One morning I went up the stair to the class on the third floor and the door was locked. I saw kids in there so I knocked and asked to come in and they said no. The where flashing the lights on and off and using the overhead projector as a disco ball. They didn't get into trouble for it either. My tormenter for this year was Eric. He was a wise ass little shit who always made me look bad and him good. He once took my moon boots-winter snow boots and disposed of them in the girls bathroom. Try to explain why I was wearing my school shoes home to Chernobyl. I went home crying and was forced back by Chernobyl, because the school was half a block from the house. They found them, sprayed with hairspray, in the toilet. Eric had stated that he would take them and others heard him. But I got in trouble with the school counselor Mr. Fischel and Chernobyl for lying. I also got the belt when I went home.
The belt- 'which if us brats didn't behave we would get a whipping. Spare the rod spoil the child.'
It was a 1 ¾ inch by 60 inch by ¼ inch thick real leather belt my dad used as intended until he got a new one. It hung by the stairway as a reminder for us. She would relish if we didn't behave we would get the ¼ inch thick belt. My brothers where not whipped as much as I. They also where treated better than me. I shared a bed with my little brother until we got bunks. My older brother had a dresser all to himself and my little brother and I shared one until Chernobyl put and end to that. We then got a big heavy table which I improvised a shelf on the bottom. This is where I had my clothes along with an old display clothes hanger. Whenever my brothers got hurt they went to the hospital and received proper care. When I did, I got shit on. Do you see a pattern forming here?
I was in the fourth grade but played like I was in kindergarten because I didn't have a normal life like everyone else.
It was not any better than the last, and I had he first in a long line of bullies-David. He just push me and make me cry as I did often about the littlest things. He was good at it and gave my life even more negativity. It began in the fall with Mrs. Hubbard as my teacher. I love fall weather and still do to this day. But it also meant that now I had no safe haven. We where asked the first week or two what we did that summer. Others would talks about how their families went on vacations and camped out and had fun things happen. I didn't have that. When I was asked I would say, “Nothing.”
I was still not human because I was not one. I was something else. That is why I had anger and took it out on my brothers. That led to getting into trouble with Chernobyl. Around this time I had two traumas. First my younger brother and I where playing in the dining room of the house we rented on Center street. Apparently we where too loud, so my dad, who was in the adjacent living room came in and forced me, not Michael out and took the plastic baseball bat and swung at me. He tried to hit my backside but missed and blew out my right knee for the first time. I don't remember the next day but I didn't go to school because I couldn't walk.
Maybe it was because of my parents blood feud. You see they split up for awhile before I was in school in Viroqua. Chernobyl had left my dad because he is an alcoholic and lost his job in Readstown working for the town maintenance. I remember the day clearly. She packed up all of our clothes and her dishes. But didn't take the dog or cats, our toys, or anything else but her Elvis records. She pulled my older brother out of school, who was in second grade. He was crying and she was hurrying him up so we could make a quick escape. She took the back roads to My aunt and uncles place outside of Viroqua.
We live DuWayne and Carolyn and their three kids, Laura, Paul and Amy. We where there for four months if I remember. I started pre-school at this time and was afraid to get on the bus. Amy and my older brother had to drag me on. I vaguely remember any of pre-school with Mrs. Krambs. I once was playing next to and electrical outlet and stuck a key into a electrical socket and was electrocuted. What would a normal mother do. Feel bad for her offspring and comfort them? We Chernobyl ripped into me for being dumb and berated me and left me there on the floor to cry as my aunt looked on in horror. My cousin Amy also tried to keep Chernobyl at bay as well, but she was not going to be stopped from exacting revenge on her children for her supposed past.
One good thing is that others saw how she treated her children or us 'brats'. Whatever her past is or was I didn't give her the right to be the abuser. The other thing is that she was into taking over-the-counter and the prescription painkillers. She started on a script called Chlorinil-which she pronounced Chlorininal. She once told me that she took as many as 20-24 Tylenol and ibuprofen a day until she went on the prescriptions. I remember how many she took because my little brother and I used to play with the empty bottles when she couldn't get her scripts.
In second grade I also had my first bad ear infection. My mother made it out to be a burden to take us to the doctor and made damn sure we had to wait and we would go to the smallest clinic in the county-Kickapoo Valley Medical clinic. I lost part of my hearing in my right ear because of the wait.
That is where her dealer-Dr. Devitt was. She always went to him so she could get checked out for her pain from arthritis. Being a former nursing assistant she knew how and what they did, but she continued to do them anyway. At the age of 30-35 she had advanced arteriosclerosis arthritis from popping 20 pills or more a day for at least ten years. That is what destroyed your goddamn joints and immune system because you had to have your 'pain pills!' When she was on them she was good but when she ran out, usually before the script was up she was a pain.
She didn't take me to the doctor this time though. It was usually a half day thing, but my dad took me and we where in and out in a hour. At least being down with an ear infection allowed me to see my grandparents following the checkup. It was nice. I helped them move from the apartment they had in the low income housing to another one in the same building. I was nice to hang out with them and do fun things with my family. My grandfather George would always give us a quarter when we visited. This time he gave me a whole dollar. When I visited his grave not too long ago I left a quarter to him for the pleasant memories.
Trying to adjust to school was a task proving to be difficult. My dad was still unemployed and it didn't help with the worst recession we had at the time. He spent his time assembling jigsaw puzzles and watching television.
He was injured working on his truck at a farm near Readstown where he used to farmhand at. A jack stand fell over trapping him underneath. My mother verbally abused him wasting money for the ambulance ride to Vernon Memorial and verbally abused Bud, the farmhand's son who was helping him, and everyone else involved.
My dad was transferred to La Crosse's Gundersen-Luthuren hospital. This was the first non-school related trip there. My mother's brother drove us there. My dad broke his right arm, separated his left shoulder and broke two ribs.
I went to the doctor again this year when I accidentally slammed my thumb in a car door when closing it. Chernobyl was furious and let me sit in pain as she did the laundry. Eventually I went to Hirsch clinic and got my first x-ray. It was negative but I lost my first fingernail. I also did the dishes for the first time at age seven because the soapy water would help the wound. I also broke my nose and had a bad nosebleed from a line drive softball by my older brother. It was an accident, but Chernobyl didn't have any simpathy for it.
Rules number 2-There is no such things as accidents, they are all mistakes.
So no job yet again following the four months of recovery. We eventually moved from that house on Center street to the house my mother inherited from her late aunt June. This would be known as the domain of evil as it was the place I went after school. It was no house nor home but simply the place I kept my stuff for the next eleven years.
How can a home or house be so bad. Keep reading.
3rd grade-
I still didn't have any social skill. Just like this sentence I had no idea how to be. I learned personal space from my desk mate, as we had double seated desks that shared once table top. In would go into his stuff without permission, only to find out that this was wrong, unbeknownst to me. All of the class was together for the first time as the students from Liberty pole grades 1-2 came to the main school now. So we have more new student show I had no idea how to talk to.
At this time my mother became a fully devoted member of the Jehovah's witness's and as usual she bitched about everything about it. I really think it was to push us kids further in not being accepted by others because no one like someone who is different.
Maybe that's why some kids from the fourth grade trampled me down one afternoon and blew my knee out for the second time. My cousin Jessica and next door neighbor had to carry me into school and to my class.
4th grade-
Everyone else's emotional and mental well being-on par. Mine-far behind.
Fourth grade started up and went downhill from there. My third grade teacher, Mrs. Welch was fine but this year I had a male teacher-Mr. Weltzin. He didn't last long because a student filed a sexual harassment claim, which I think was false, but nevertheless he was fired. Then began the long line of six substitute teachers, among them Mrs. Hoffland, Mrs. Getter and Mrs. King.
The class was in chaos. One morning I went up the stair to the class on the third floor and the door was locked. I saw kids in there so I knocked and asked to come in and they said no. The where flashing the lights on and off and using the overhead projector as a disco ball. They didn't get into trouble for it either. My tormenter for this year was Eric. He was a wise ass little shit who always made me look bad and him good. He once took my moon boots-winter snow boots and disposed of them in the girls bathroom. Try to explain why I was wearing my school shoes home to Chernobyl. I went home crying and was forced back by Chernobyl, because the school was half a block from the house. They found them, sprayed with hairspray, in the toilet. Eric had stated that he would take them and others heard him. But I got in trouble with the school counselor Mr. Fischel and Chernobyl for lying. I also got the belt when I went home.
The belt- 'which if us brats didn't behave we would get a whipping. Spare the rod spoil the child.'
It was a 1 ¾ inch by 60 inch by ¼ inch thick real leather belt my dad used as intended until he got a new one. It hung by the stairway as a reminder for us. She would relish if we didn't behave we would get the ¼ inch thick belt. My brothers where not whipped as much as I. They also where treated better than me. I shared a bed with my little brother until we got bunks. My older brother had a dresser all to himself and my little brother and I shared one until Chernobyl put and end to that. We then got a big heavy table which I improvised a shelf on the bottom. This is where I had my clothes along with an old display clothes hanger. Whenever my brothers got hurt they went to the hospital and received proper care. When I did, I got shit on. Do you see a pattern forming here?
I was in the fourth grade but played like I was in kindergarten because I didn't have a normal life like everyone else.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Miy life birth thru 1st grade.
So this was to be about me and all the tragedy that is my life and ways not to be like me. But yet it will be those things.
You can't go home again.
It all began on a cold winter morning in March, nineteen hundred and seventy-nine. I was due February fifteenth but knew before my birth what evil that was waiting for me. So I was born three weeks late, and apparently healthy.
My mother, we will call her Chernobyl, for her fiery temper and always knowing what I or my siblings where doing before we did them.
She is the epitome of evil and badness in all its forms, from howling over you to do your chores to denying the simplest gratitude to others or us. This is why I am this way now, because of what I was denied as a child. The nurturing, caring, gratitude,kindness,love where all absent and are even today. But more on Chernobyl later. This is an introduction to me.
When I started writing poetry one of my first poems was stupid, ugly, bastard.
My first venture into poetry the the rhyme yet ill-formed 'a homage to and idea of hope.' It was written my junior year in high school. It portrayed life as its is, filled with all the evil and bullshit that my mother and family had done and not done to have a positive outlook on my life, and to point out that I should be saved by someone. Boy was I wrong but boy was I right.
Growing up, this poem was inspired by the television show Quantum Leap. I shaped me into what I did, what I became and how I acted. Everything from imaging me as Sam and my invisible observer Al, the incident my junior year, inspired by the episode Lee Harvey Oswald[aka Leaping on a string].
I didn't think that I would live past eighteen or as far as I have now. Maybe there is a greater purpose for me, after all. I was never around anyone at all growing up because Chernobyl [mother] denied us friends at school, in the neighborhood at church, everywhere. This is the main reason for my social anxiety disorder. Kindergarten was my first experience with people-other people my age who I had no idea how to talk to or even relate. Even after years with them, I still couldn't. I remember an exercise in English 9, where we had to have a phone conversation. Suffice it to say I failed it.
As bad as things where at school for me, it was worse at home. Hopefully my book will maybe open up my past and shed some light on who and how I am now.
I have burned some bridges in my life because of my upbringing. Some of you who went to school with me knows at least someone who I ruined a perfectly decent friendship with, because of this. You can say it's not Viroqua, it's not the people, it's not my family, it's me.
I am not a people pleaser. I have been referred to as an asshole, weird, shy, a jerk, stand offish, quiet and boring.
I don't know if it was just me or something else but even my cousins I went to school with seemed to not want to be part of my life. Maybe there is some truth to the lie that people liked me. I am not going to sit here and whine and bitch on how I was treated, no. This is to make sure that no one ever has to go through what I had to, ever again. This will be a clear, concise look at my life and the answers to the questions that some or even none of you want or need.
My book will follow my slow path down the dark road to the end and then back up again. Many of those who I went to school with will be able to see how a place or a single name can do to a person, and what could have been prevented and what should have been done in the first place.
Alas, it begins...
Used and Abused
Thoughts and ramblings of traumas and triumphs and tragedy through elementary, middle and high school.
Imagine, Again
Imagine there is a heaven
It's easy but many don't try
The only hell six feet below us
And there's no reason to cry
Imagine all the people
Living forever today
Imagine the countless gone
It's hard for you to do
No killing or dying for
and one religion too
Living life forever in peace
You may say we're all dreamers
But there are other ones
I hope you consider joining us
and the world will be livable and fun
A little addition to John Lennon's song Imagine. It's one of my favorite songs, by the way. Another was also from Quantum Leap from the episode 'To catch a falling star.'It's called 'The Impossible Dream.'
A line from Spacehog's self titled song “I'm not sure where I'm going but have no way of knowing also fits me and my existence.
Many things shape us into what we become and how we live life. Does this mean that since my life has been consumed by the dark side I cannot become a Jedi!? No. I could very easily become a psychopathic killer or poetry writer. There's a very thin line between genius and insanity as well as good and evil.
My first time seeing an act of violence-age 2. My older brother and I where in the bathroom of our trailer house in Readstown. He thought it would be a great idea to urinate on me as I waited for my bath. Chernobyl came in after I started crying, and I said what he did. She then took him and tried to drown him in the bathtub as punishment for what he did.
My first time in a bar. Age 3. We went there occasionally to find my dad or be sociable in a small town of six hundred at the time. That stopped when a guy was stabbed to death and the police found the murder weapon underneath my parents car. And this stuff only happens in big cities!
Kindergarten was odd for me as well as others. I was a loner. I'd play by myself at recess because of not knowing how to talk to other people.
I remember being somewhat attracted to a young blond student in my class. I didn't let my feelings for her show and didn't tell anyone until now about her.
I classes, I was put next to the smartest kid in class. In math tests I would try to cheat of his answers because I didn't know how to add and subtract! I would always answer everything with 2 and fail. I was a middle of the road student. I always looked to others to gain knowledge I didn't have.
One girl was extremely good at art. I couldn't keep between the lines on the simplest things.
Others caught on pretty quick that I was different. How I ever became a speed reader is amazing to this day. But then again my dad is also a speed reader so I guess that is one positive thing.
It was 1984-85 and an afternoon class of Mrs. Opprud. It's an amazing thing, hindsight. When someone could have been left behind, she saw something in me. Too bad my younger brother didn't fair so well two years later with a different teacher in her first year of teaching.
1st grade-
I was still afraid of Chernobyl and had to adjust to full days, not half days we had in Kindergarten. And this was with kids more emotionally and mentally developed than me. I remember having an accident one night and instead of telling Chernobyl I simply kept the same underwear on, knowing what would come about if I told. I went to school hoping and watching no one would notice. They did and I had to get clean clothes and my mother was called in. I knew if I told her she wouldn't let me go to school as punishment. School, I learned was the only safe haven from her. This pattern would come to haunt me for many years to come.
I first learned how to tie my she laces from Mrs. Fauske, because Chernobyl had no intentions nor the goals of teaching me anything.
It was fear, embarrassment and not knowing what people would do or say or do to me. I always expected bad.
Rule # 4-always expect the worst as not to be disappointed in the best. Yes, I have rules to live by inspired by one Leroy Jethro Gibbs. They will come into play, just like rule number one-DON'T TRUST ANYONE!
You can't go home again.
It all began on a cold winter morning in March, nineteen hundred and seventy-nine. I was due February fifteenth but knew before my birth what evil that was waiting for me. So I was born three weeks late, and apparently healthy.
My mother, we will call her Chernobyl, for her fiery temper and always knowing what I or my siblings where doing before we did them.
She is the epitome of evil and badness in all its forms, from howling over you to do your chores to denying the simplest gratitude to others or us. This is why I am this way now, because of what I was denied as a child. The nurturing, caring, gratitude,kindness,love where all absent and are even today. But more on Chernobyl later. This is an introduction to me.
When I started writing poetry one of my first poems was stupid, ugly, bastard.
My first venture into poetry the the rhyme yet ill-formed 'a homage to and idea of hope.' It was written my junior year in high school. It portrayed life as its is, filled with all the evil and bullshit that my mother and family had done and not done to have a positive outlook on my life, and to point out that I should be saved by someone. Boy was I wrong but boy was I right.
Growing up, this poem was inspired by the television show Quantum Leap. I shaped me into what I did, what I became and how I acted. Everything from imaging me as Sam and my invisible observer Al, the incident my junior year, inspired by the episode Lee Harvey Oswald[aka Leaping on a string].
I didn't think that I would live past eighteen or as far as I have now. Maybe there is a greater purpose for me, after all. I was never around anyone at all growing up because Chernobyl [mother] denied us friends at school, in the neighborhood at church, everywhere. This is the main reason for my social anxiety disorder. Kindergarten was my first experience with people-other people my age who I had no idea how to talk to or even relate. Even after years with them, I still couldn't. I remember an exercise in English 9, where we had to have a phone conversation. Suffice it to say I failed it.
As bad as things where at school for me, it was worse at home. Hopefully my book will maybe open up my past and shed some light on who and how I am now.
I have burned some bridges in my life because of my upbringing. Some of you who went to school with me knows at least someone who I ruined a perfectly decent friendship with, because of this. You can say it's not Viroqua, it's not the people, it's not my family, it's me.
I am not a people pleaser. I have been referred to as an asshole, weird, shy, a jerk, stand offish, quiet and boring.
I don't know if it was just me or something else but even my cousins I went to school with seemed to not want to be part of my life. Maybe there is some truth to the lie that people liked me. I am not going to sit here and whine and bitch on how I was treated, no. This is to make sure that no one ever has to go through what I had to, ever again. This will be a clear, concise look at my life and the answers to the questions that some or even none of you want or need.
My book will follow my slow path down the dark road to the end and then back up again. Many of those who I went to school with will be able to see how a place or a single name can do to a person, and what could have been prevented and what should have been done in the first place.
Alas, it begins...
Used and Abused
Thoughts and ramblings of traumas and triumphs and tragedy through elementary, middle and high school.
Imagine, Again
Imagine there is a heaven
It's easy but many don't try
The only hell six feet below us
And there's no reason to cry
Imagine all the people
Living forever today
Imagine the countless gone
It's hard for you to do
No killing or dying for
and one religion too
Living life forever in peace
You may say we're all dreamers
But there are other ones
I hope you consider joining us
and the world will be livable and fun
A little addition to John Lennon's song Imagine. It's one of my favorite songs, by the way. Another was also from Quantum Leap from the episode 'To catch a falling star.'It's called 'The Impossible Dream.'
A line from Spacehog's self titled song “I'm not sure where I'm going but have no way of knowing also fits me and my existence.
Many things shape us into what we become and how we live life. Does this mean that since my life has been consumed by the dark side I cannot become a Jedi!? No. I could very easily become a psychopathic killer or poetry writer. There's a very thin line between genius and insanity as well as good and evil.
My first time seeing an act of violence-age 2. My older brother and I where in the bathroom of our trailer house in Readstown. He thought it would be a great idea to urinate on me as I waited for my bath. Chernobyl came in after I started crying, and I said what he did. She then took him and tried to drown him in the bathtub as punishment for what he did.
My first time in a bar. Age 3. We went there occasionally to find my dad or be sociable in a small town of six hundred at the time. That stopped when a guy was stabbed to death and the police found the murder weapon underneath my parents car. And this stuff only happens in big cities!
Kindergarten was odd for me as well as others. I was a loner. I'd play by myself at recess because of not knowing how to talk to other people.
I remember being somewhat attracted to a young blond student in my class. I didn't let my feelings for her show and didn't tell anyone until now about her.
I classes, I was put next to the smartest kid in class. In math tests I would try to cheat of his answers because I didn't know how to add and subtract! I would always answer everything with 2 and fail. I was a middle of the road student. I always looked to others to gain knowledge I didn't have.
One girl was extremely good at art. I couldn't keep between the lines on the simplest things.
Others caught on pretty quick that I was different. How I ever became a speed reader is amazing to this day. But then again my dad is also a speed reader so I guess that is one positive thing.
It was 1984-85 and an afternoon class of Mrs. Opprud. It's an amazing thing, hindsight. When someone could have been left behind, she saw something in me. Too bad my younger brother didn't fair so well two years later with a different teacher in her first year of teaching.
1st grade-
I was still afraid of Chernobyl and had to adjust to full days, not half days we had in Kindergarten. And this was with kids more emotionally and mentally developed than me. I remember having an accident one night and instead of telling Chernobyl I simply kept the same underwear on, knowing what would come about if I told. I went to school hoping and watching no one would notice. They did and I had to get clean clothes and my mother was called in. I knew if I told her she wouldn't let me go to school as punishment. School, I learned was the only safe haven from her. This pattern would come to haunt me for many years to come.
I first learned how to tie my she laces from Mrs. Fauske, because Chernobyl had no intentions nor the goals of teaching me anything.
It was fear, embarrassment and not knowing what people would do or say or do to me. I always expected bad.
Rule # 4-always expect the worst as not to be disappointed in the best. Yes, I have rules to live by inspired by one Leroy Jethro Gibbs. They will come into play, just like rule number one-DON'T TRUST ANYONE!
Friday, March 5, 2010
My life and such by Chad A. Heal
Hello! My name is Chad. this blog is to tell everyone the story of my life. It has twists and turns and all sorts of what do you call those-memories. My life is not for the faint of heart. It's not a happy tale, if someone told you so, they lied.
This is also to raise awareness and information on what my life has become and what the public can do and not do so no one has to go through what I did.
So fasten you seat-belts and as the Joker would say, "Here we go."
This is also to raise awareness and information on what my life has become and what the public can do and not do so no one has to go through what I did.
So fasten you seat-belts and as the Joker would say, "Here we go."
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