H
Hachi
Guest
Well, I was born in East Manchester, New Hampshire on February 15, 1986. My life was decent, except that my sister was a 4.1GPA little Miss Perfect and I was a Class-A--blam!--Up.
My father blew his brains out when I was 10, and Mom remarried almost 3 years later to a later abusive ex-NYC police officer.
Stress in the home made me lose my mind, but Kari (my sister) was completely un-affected, which pissed me off to a new level.
I adopted the "emo" lifestyle, fulfilling some of the stereotypes in the process (the cutting, the crying, and the clothing (also known as the "3C's of Emo"))
I had four suicide attempts; each one failing for multiple reasons. With my last one, (March 27, 2002 age; 16) I was half-drunk and asked if I could be excused from the dinner table, to use the restroom.
I went in, locked the door, attempted to OD on Tylenol, and slit my wrists. My parents found me unconscious on the floor, bleeding out.
I woke up in a hospital room, stitches on my wrists, and my mom (the only other one in the room) was sitting there waiting for me to wake up. When I did, she wasn't crying and she hadn't the whole time.
They tried to "turn me around"; my jack-ass of a step dad tried to get me to go to church, but gave up the 3rd time I ran away in the middle of a service.
Just as things were getting better, the abuse got worse. He broke my mom's arm; so I beat the living -blam!- out of him. He left a month-and-a-half later. Then they divorced 6 months after that.
I graduated high school with a 2.7GPA, and my sis (predictably) was valedictorian.
I'm 22 now, and attending the University of New Hampshire. Perfectly fine (as long as I take my meds.)
My father blew his brains out when I was 10, and Mom remarried almost 3 years later to a later abusive ex-NYC police officer.
Stress in the home made me lose my mind, but Kari (my sister) was completely un-affected, which pissed me off to a new level.
I adopted the "emo" lifestyle, fulfilling some of the stereotypes in the process (the cutting, the crying, and the clothing (also known as the "3C's of Emo"))
I had four suicide attempts; each one failing for multiple reasons. With my last one, (March 27, 2002 age; 16) I was half-drunk and asked if I could be excused from the dinner table, to use the restroom.
I went in, locked the door, attempted to OD on Tylenol, and slit my wrists. My parents found me unconscious on the floor, bleeding out.
I woke up in a hospital room, stitches on my wrists, and my mom (the only other one in the room) was sitting there waiting for me to wake up. When I did, she wasn't crying and she hadn't the whole time.
They tried to "turn me around"; my jack-ass of a step dad tried to get me to go to church, but gave up the 3rd time I ran away in the middle of a service.
Just as things were getting better, the abuse got worse. He broke my mom's arm; so I beat the living -blam!- out of him. He left a month-and-a-half later. Then they divorced 6 months after that.
I graduated high school with a 2.7GPA, and my sis (predictably) was valedictorian.
I'm 22 now, and attending the University of New Hampshire. Perfectly fine (as long as I take my meds.)
