I just finished reading a good deal of everyones stories, and even now it opens my eyes to see that the world is filled with unique people, all whom have their very own stories and very own experiences. Its a good feeling to see that, as the days slowly pass and I feel like more and more of the world is becoming gray, 'follow the system', 'obey'. Its nice to see a bit of human emotion plastered onto the walls of the forum, even if the contents are only there because the veil of the internet is present. I figure I could share a bit of my life on here, because I do eventually plan to write a book, at least I hope to bring my self to finish a collection of writings to establish something I can put on a shelf and smile to my self about.
So, here It goes I suppose. ( I do apologize for writing a novel here.. )
I was born on an island in the Caribbean, my early child hood was good, or so I can remember. I had two loving parents, a wonderful and relatively safe world to explore. Beaches and Small jungles of different trees and foliage, long sun filled days with delicate orange sunsets that casted shadows over the clouds that would mesh into a dark haze of red and pink. reflecting off the water to give off the effect of paradise. I was happy, I didn't know any better! My parents were happy. Life was good.
As time rushed by I started to grow up little by little. No sooner, things changed on the island I had grown up on, due to a physical assault on my mother, tensions raised about the more so 'native' population, and most of which were fairly rude to the white population (I have no comment on this being the case, Racism is bad, but It would be foolish of me to say it was unfair for us as a white family to have to deal with the occasional black person giving us trouble. Blacks after all have been ridiculed over the ages because of something as simple as the melanin in their skin.) Because of this, as well as multiple other reasons like me growing up closer to my grandmother, we moved from the Caribbean to the North-East, we happened to move onto another island.
I was unaffected by the move, I was friends with a lot of kids on the island, but...for some reason it never effected me as something I would miss. I was popular back then, I suppose. That all changed when I moved to the North East. I was put into a public school that was under development, and was in the process of constructing an entire new school. Most of this is a vague memory and is a blur to me. But for the first few years of me being in the school, I had trouble making friends. I was teased and looked at as odd, because of things like, not knowing how to tie my shoes, or not knowing how to zip up my jacket. Prior to moving, I had always worn sandals, and had never once wore a jacket of any sort. It didn't strike me as anything serious, I was just a child and my brain was aloof, I was just liven' life to the fullest, I was still happy, even with less friends. But as the end of the second grade approached, my parents were troubled by the fact my teacher thought I should stay back. My mother, being steadfast and rather...aggressive told the teacher off, and that I would not be staying back in second grade.
I didn't stay back. Which to this day makes me happy, It would've been strange, having to stay back another year and lose all the connections I had made with the previous kids, even if they weren't close, just because I couldn't do simple things like zip up my jacket, or really communicate to all of these new people. It was culture shock, but Inside my little head I played it off like It was nothing. I was still happy. Life went on. but, this is where things began to complicate as I developed.
Grade 3. I was a rather healthy kid, I didn't have any real issues with my health, or with my sociableness, I had a few friends, I talked with people freely, but I was shy. I picked up playing the Violin or one of the other smaller shoulder-instruments, but quickly lost interest. At home I mostly played video games and did homework, regularly getting help from one or both of my parents. I had a pet dog named Sierra, and she quickly became my best friend. As the year passed, our grade was to put on a play, something having to do with the Revolutionary war and the founding fathers, etc etc. It was a simple little silly-play. Like most lower-grades would have, nothing to serious. But...something struck me at this point in my life.
I was set to play Benjamin Franklin, At first I didn't mind, I didn't really care in all honesty! But...For some reason, something in my head went..wrong. My homeroom teacher, who was one of the nicest women I have known to teach suggested something to me in front of the other kids. And this was to put a pillow in my shirt, so I could be more benjamin franklin like, figuring benjamin franklin was a tad over-weight due to his delicacies in france. Something inside me snapped like a twig. It was the first memorable thing that affected me. And because of it. I quickly became self conscious of my weight, I looked at my self differently and felt almost bad for my self.
That winter I fell...into a slight depression, but I wouldn't call it that, It was subconscious. I spent my afternoons staying at home. Playing video games to take my mind off everything at school, and I chugged down snacks. boxes of crackers, bags of chips, I went at em like a shark. And within the time period of two or three months, I had gained nearly 30 pounds, as a child going into the 4th grade, time went on and on, and I was still happy about my life, I was a little dumb, if anything. I continued to gain weight, but not was quickly as I did that one winter, but when I first moved to the North East, I was as skinny as a pole, and after being in the North East, I had gained weight, and was putting more and more on as I grew up. (I was never really obese, but I was certainly chubby)
School days went, seasons passed. new kids came, old kids left. I traveled to the Mediterranean with my parents during the sixth year at said elementary school. I can say I lived a rather lavish life, I had good friends, I had another dog, named Scooter, Scooter and Sierra were by far my best friends at the time, my parents took very great care of me, and I have been fortunate for the longest time, and still am.
During the sixth grade my eyes were opened to the world of sex, girls, and relationships. I believe as far as I can recall, my first slap in the face was when, the school was selling roses for some sort've fund-raiser, and I had pulled aside one of the kids in my grade selling them to buy a bushel for this girl I liked. Apparently, the batch of roses had never got to her, because apparently their weren't any left. But, regardless one day during tech class, I believe the day after I had bought the roses that never got delivered ( >.> how I love incompetence ) they messaged me on one of the chat systems we used and asked me about it. I answered that I did, and after a moment she told me to come talk to her. So I did, we talked for a little bit and she was 'flattered' by the fact that I had thought of buying them for her, but she sadly told me that she was already dating someone, and that if anything happened I would be 'next' on her 'list'. I was young and dumb, so I looked at it as a good thing. 'oh great, well, i guess I sort've have a chance with a pretty girl'.
Days turned into weeks. and It dawned on me that I had been ignored completely, because after finding out this girl was single again, she had already been dating a close friend of mine for a little while, at first I was...confused, then upset, then I sort've just threw in the towel. It was something that confirmed that girls wouldn't like me because of my looks. Things went along as the teachers planned, and by the end of grade six. I had learned the curriculum but nothing much more besides that my self esteem was at an all time low. I began wearing cloths that were loose fitting and didn't show much of my body, Sweatshirts, baggy pants. I continued to gain weight steadily, and by now I was maybe 5'2" and weighed around 145-170 pounds.
I complained to my parents about my school, and the education I was receiving there. I didn't really like it. They looked into a different school, which I eventually ended up going to the next year. But that summer I had gotten an interest into playing guitar, and had been taking lessons due to my mother wanting me to find something to do besides video games. So I started taking lessons. And eventually my mother ordered a guitar, as well as a bass. I was looking forward to it. and the day I had gotten the guitar/bass I was happy, I sat in my cold basement where my sister used to live with us, and I played random chords to my mother. It was a sunny afternoon, and all was well.
(Here comes the waterworks as I write this)
Our next door neighbor came running over to the open doors to our basement ( I forget what the name of the doors are, but they're slanted down and lead to a staircase that goes into the basement from the side of the house.) He cried out to see if anyone was around. And my mother quickly stood and went up the stairs to see what the problem was, at first I wasn't sure what was going on. So I just quietly went back to playing my chords, looking down at the guitar longingly, hoping one day I'd be decent at it.
My mother returned rather quickly, and told me something that rocked my world from its foundation, I can't remember the words exactly to this day. But I can imagine they revolved around "They ran over scooter." or "Scooter got hit by a car." I blinked for a long moment and eventually put my guitar down, leaning it against what ever object I could, or against the stand it came with. I stared blankly for a long moment at the walls and the furnishing of the basement. It felt like ages, and I slowly peered down to see Sierra, who had always been my best friend. and instinctively I reached to hold onto her, and my eyes began to tear up, I shook my head and began to murmur soft reassurances to my self. "He'll be okay. He'll be okay."
Sierra most likely grunted and wiggled a bit before getting comfortable with my arms around her body, both of my dogs were cocker-spaniels at this time.
I was left alone, in my basement, starting to cry as I held onto my only true friend. I shook my head, I did so, over and over, I couldn't believe it, I knew he'd be okay. Dogs survive getting hit by cars every so often, don't they? I thought this was the case, I was sure of it. And I slowly made my way over to the bedding that my sister used to use when she lived with us. I lay back in the sheets and clutched the nearest pillow I could before my dog sat quietly down at the side of the bed, knowing something was wrong. Time went by, and I couldn't take being alone any longer. I ventured upstairs, but not out the stair-case that lead outside. I came up the stairs just in time to spot my mother, and our neighbors wife carrying the lifeless body of my dog on a boogie-board to the front stoop. The sight of this made my throat feel as though it was going to froth out of my mouth and my organs were going to liquidate. I had never experienced death in my life.
It took quiet some time, but eventually I ventured out onto the front stoop with faintly teared eyes and a shaky composure. I looked down at my mother who sat next to the lifeless childhood companion they had gotten a few years prior. She was crying. I was unused to this all, and my body tensed up, I couldn't feel anything but pure sorrow and despair. My mother made a call to my father whom was at work, and asked him to come home, which he did immediately. That wonderful sunny day ended, leaving behind a husk who the little boy that was originally there really was. I had been changed. We buried Scooter in our front yard, in a small garden area. The only thing we had to remember him by was a petrified lime, that my mother claims she had used to play ball with Scooter that final time before he passed away.
I was mortified for a long while, but as summer ended, I was introduced to a new school, and life began anew, I met new kids, and made new friends. I began playing WoW, sort've tunnel-vissioning my life's problems out by occupying my self with the game. World of Warcraft helped me get over Scooter in a sense, it distracted me, helped me grow and mature a bit. So, I lived that life, I went to the new school, I played WoW, I abandoned playing the Guitar due to the lack of ever wanting to even play one due to what had happened, We even adopted a new puppy whom is now named
Memphis.
At the end of 7th grade, I was forced to move again, and we moved off the island in the north-east to a nearby town on the mainland for my fathers work. I made the effort and continued to go to school every day in 8th grade on the island, taking a boat every morning and every afternoon just to get there and back. I traveled for maybe 3 and a half hours every day just to get there and back home. Via driving, walking, and taking the boat.
During this time Off island I began maturing to the point of sexuality and puberty. I learned what things turned me on, and how that felt. But I never went any further, as I was to afraid as to what would happen If I actually... masturbated, of all things.
We moved back to the island during grade 9, due to my father losing the job he had acquired for the short year we lived off island. We were lucky enough this time to find a house right on the coast that over-looked the harbor, the one that boat voyaged through every day to get from the island to the mainland. Because of the school I went to, the grades were set up 1-12 for the whole school, and for what ever reason, most of my friends decided to go to the high-school, instead of the 1-12 school, mostly because of the sports the other high-school offered. Regardless. I fell into a slight pit of depression, no longer having the friends I had because I was not willing to go to the other school, knowing it wasn't something I wanted. I enjoyed the school I had switched to, I wasn't going to throw away a year of me spending a quarter of my days traveling just to go to another school now that I was back on the island.
(( Note, this next bit is simplified, as I don't mean to literally take up 2 forum threads to explain out my life story up to this date. ))
I became depressed nonetheless, and I began to play WoW a lot more. I began RPing. (Role Playing)
As days passed I found my self craving pleasure, the sexual feeling of being aroused intrigued me. so most of this 'Rp' lead to ERP ( Erotic Role Play )
as I was rping, my character met someone else's one day, and we quickly became friends out of the RP, ( Ooc - Out of Character )
As time passed our characters fell in love with one another and I and the person behind the computer along the other end became friends, but we kept at arms length, knowing we only were friends because of the RP and ERP we preformed having to do with our characters. It was with this person I had ever gained my first climax from.
The art of literature and words, and the imagination had brought me my first sexual experience, which left me craving more. I quickly became addicted and began to masturbate to the point of self injury because It was the best thing I had ever felt since...being happy.
Things became unsteady with this person due to a few complications between our personalities as we argued multiple times about non-important things. In the end, I had learned a bit about being in a slight relationship because of the relationship our characters had, I learned from that, and I became more and more of an adult as I went through my adolescence. I and this persons friendship ended around the same time Grade 9 ended.
We detached and never really spoke again for quiet some time.
I gave my self time to recover from losing such a close friend, whom was my everything for nearly a year. The only person I could really talk to about things outside of my parents. I had no friends in school really, due to them all leaving to go to the other high school.
My life changed once more then, as I met another person on WoW, we began RPing, our characters were very unlike one another, and had only a little in common when it came to likes and dislikes, but they formed quickly into a rather odd couple. Complementing one another's bad sides fairly well.
Our characters got closer and closer, and eventually I and the person behind the role-play got closer and closer as friends. As time passed. I felt dependent on them. They were my best friend, the person I always looked forward to talking to. I had a strong bond with them due to the nature of our characters in games attitudes towards one another. we spent nearly every day talking or rping together. And one night, when I got home from my summer job I felt something click in my head. and...I was foolish enough to ask. I asked this person on the other end, if they had ever thought of being something more then just friends. If they thought maybe we could make one another happy? If anything, it ended with us crying like idiots over the uncertainty of it all, or so I was told they were crying. I know I certainly was.
I let the subject drop, I rped because it made me happy, it made me think of other things. crying over something like this wasn't what I wanted. So the weeks turned into months. We helped each other through the good and the bad. Reluctantly, I began falling in love with the person behind the character, some part of me didn't care whether they were male or female, whether they were white or black. What mattered to me was that they made me happy, and in return I made them happy. Or so I thought, I told them I loved them every night, and they returned the gesture before we would go to bed. I was lead on. lied to. It grew closer and closer on our 'one year' anniversary of being friends.
It would be soon, having learned from the person that they would be leaving within a few months to take up schooling as more serious to plan out their life. I...I didn't want to accept this, and I wanted to tell them how I felt. It took me three nights of beating around the bush with statements and questions regarding how they felt about me, and how much I cared for them. In the end. I told them I loved them. And I like to put it. I was taken from my perch and gently settled down back on my feet on the ground. They told me they were honored they felt that I felt that way about them. but there was no way they could love me back. Because of my age compared to theres. because of our genders. Because of what society would think.
It crushed me, I had spent a year with this person, whom I had never even heard their voice. Or seen their face. But I had a close bond with them mentally due to the story my character and their character had developed. Perhaps it was just me...But the bond was not shared. I was dependent on them. They were like a drug to me, They made me happy when I was sad. they talked to me when no one else would. They made me smile and laugh when no one else could either. I accepted this, for the time being.
Inside my head I couldn't believe they had no similar emotion to me. And so I made it a goal to try and help them realize that they were in denial. Our one year-friendship anniversary came and went. It was bittersweet. I was reminded as to how little time they would have with me soon. But because of my attitude and mind-set that he was in the wrong for lying to him self. We grew apart. I pestered, scolded and even lectured them as to why the outside world shouldn't matter when it comes to true love, and how shallow it was to think that because of who we were as people, that we couldn't be happy. They blatantly told me that there was no possible way for us to love one another equally, -Never- EVER. nothing more.
I gave up.
... The sands of time slipped between the fingers of what ever god or greater power looks over the entire existence of everything. And I found my self alone.
I had nothing more then my parents. And a small group of friends I had met on WoW, who I continue to hang out and play the game with to this day.
I've learned a lot in the past few years of my life. And I continue to be a very disgruntled and self-conscious shell of a person. I think of all the things that I've been taught by others, whether intentional or intentional. Is...
That the mind is a powerful thing, In times of need, it can portray false feelings and emotions.
Emotions and feeling that can make you happy, as long as you follow within the lines of believing what your mind tells you.
If you live the lie your inner-self tells you to. You will be happy, or Unhappy. Based on what lie it is.
I do appologize for boring you all with my story of online relationships and my oddly pleasant but eventful childhood
I moved 6 times within the past 7 years. And I've lost many of my close friends. But I trek on, living a legacy. One day I will stand as a statue that people will look up to, as Kenji wishes.
I also have to thank Katawa Shoujo for opening my eyes and heart a little, It's made me feel...better, especially in distracting me from the situation with the person whom I loved, but was never loved back with...
(Again, sorry for taking up so much space.
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