Oh boy, depressing stories Forum My Story

It isn’t easy for me to write this, or read it aloud; as is the case for Youtube. This isn’t a draw my life, but more of an explain my life. Describe my life. I feel like it’s all just been building up for so long, I can’t truly be sure if my story is common, if it’s bad or not. I am positive that it can always be worse, and it could have been worse. My life, looking back, has been pretty miserable. It has also been a burden on me. I always did have a powerful resolve. I also had a hidden love of living things, for our planet. I wouldn’t discover this until much later, though. I had a pretty damn good childhood for awhile. My parents seemed to love each other, I had all the toys a child could want, my sister and I fought and made up like normal siblings, usually playing with each other. My fondest memory is my earliest memory; I was curled up in my dad’s lap, wrapped up in a comfortable teal robe with red and black stripes. We were watching an old episode of Looney Tunes, and it had just ended. One of the bulbs in the living room was out, and the other lamp was right behind me. My dad was in his pajamas, a pair of black sweatpants and an oldies t-shirt. My mom was laying on the couch on the opposite side of the room, fast asleep, with my sister next to her on the floor, coloring. I looked at my dad and felt myself smile, and then went to sleep. The years passed by so quickly when I was young that I barely have any memories of it. I sadly remember one memory that was not very good. My parents got divorced when I was very young; I don’t remember how old I was, but I was at the oldest 8. I remember having to comfort my older sister. I remember that it came out of nowhere, and my sister was destroyed. I felt little to nothing; I’m still not sure if I was too strong to cry or too weak to feel emotion. My life just spiralled downwards from there. My father dated a woman named Suzy. This was one of my life’s low points. I was around 9-10 years old, and it was a living hell. I learned after she left us that she tried to, and I quote, “Break me like a Racehorse.” This is because I was diagnosed with ADHD and ASD, both of which she thought could be “broken”. Whenever I was even relatively upset, she would put me in the garage until I stopped crying. It could be anywhere from ½ an hour to 3 hours. If I came in sometimes, all of my tears dry, she would still send me to the garage. If I played a note wrong on the recorder, she would make me restart the entire song. If I got one problem wrong, she would force me to keep doing the problem by myself without any help or hints or advice until I got it correctly. I have developed a hate for carrots because she packed them in my lunch every day. I hated carrots, but I had to eat them or she would threaten me by severely punishing me. She said that she knew the cafeteria workers at the elementary school I went to and would have them tell her, and since she was a teacher at the high school in the same district, I thought she wasn’t lying, so I ate them. Every. Single. Day. I recall a period of a month and a half or so where I had nothing but a mattress and a book. Nothing else at all, whatsoever. The book was A Dog’s Story, and I still remember the book. She took away all of my toys, my television privileges, my outdoor activities, everything. That still haunts me to this day. After my dad broke up with her after around a year (who thought that she knew what she was doing; he was almost hypnotized by her fat a*s), I began to gain weight as we moved in with my Grandma. I went back to my old school, but when I was popular before, I was utterly hated now. Nobody was happy to see me. I suffered through that school for awhile before my dad met Jessica. My new bets friend and possible (didn’t happen) stepbrother, Mac, who had every interest that I did. We got along so well, until my dad divorced her. Her daughter, Maddie, was almost as much of a b***h as she was. After that, we moved back in with my grandma. Then, my dad met Shannon. Shannon is the one who drew out my emotions early on, then killed them. I was, quite literally, dead inside while she was there, aside from frustration, anger, and sadness. She and I got into arguments every day - and I got punished, despite her instigating each and every one. As if that isn’t hard enough, I had to deal with her “back pain” which, to this day, I consider complete and utter bullshit. So do my dad and sister. She actually tried to pry me away from my birth mother through lies and deceit. I remember that, almost every night, I’d cry myself to sleep. Yet, somehow, despite her crippling back pain, she managed to viciously attack my sister. It took her step-daughter, Stephanie, and my dad (who punched a hole in the wall twice out of sheer frustration) to get her off of my sister. At this point in time, I didn’t mind the cop cars in our driveway. I hardly cared. Recently, my dad and her had gotten a divorce, and she took so much money from my dad. She took so much from all of us. The divorce is finalized, but my issues seem to never end. Recently in my health class, we took a quiz to see how stressed we may be. It was a point-based system, and the danger range for possible extreme stress was 300. I scored 724. In addition, I still have my ADHD and ASD. I have medication for my ADHD, and luckily, my ASD doesn’t require medication. I recently got a job at a Dairy Queen, and I actually start very soon. I still struggle from this stress, though, and I have become addicted to electronics. I understand electronics, and to me, they’re far less changing and far more predictable. I am very good with patterns, which makes me a better gamer. My dad and I have, however, made a system of controlled electronics time, so it is more under control. Of course, when I found out our school was getting I-Pads, I became super stressed out. Electronic given to me every day in school? Not good. Again, I have a system for keeping it under control, but it doesn’t stop me from being stressed. I have found out, though, that I really enjoy making videos on Youtube. I love using comedy to cheer up others, and I like to think I can be funny at times. Recently, I’ve discovered some friends who have depression. In fact, a friend online was actually considering suicide. Luckily, I was able to talk them out of it. Of course, that adds stress, but I’d gladly carry that burden for my friends. Sometimes, I feel like I annoy other people. I feel really s****y, to be frank, and I don’t always get out of at feeling right away. Sometimes, I think of death, and I think of what will happen when I die. I get scared, because sometimes, I can almost feel myself dying and my mind goes black. I feel nothing but a crippling fear in my gut. I try to think of what I will be doing later on in my life, but I can’t see my future, which also frightens me. I get thoughts such as, will I die young? What will happen if I do die early? Will anybody care? Will anybody care? I always get those thoughts out of my head, but man, they linger. Lately, I’ve been feeling an emptiness inside. I recognize that it’s for love, yet I feel utterly unlovable by all but my family. I feel alone. I feel like I can never find love, never find anyone else, never have a single person understand me. But I keep going. I keep going because someone will understand, someone will love me, and I know that I may not be very lovable, but the definition of ‘Lovable’ depends on your definition. Even today, behind the glasses that I wear, my eyes visibly reveal how I have truly suffered. I also get stressed out because, recently, I found out I need prisms in my glasses. Prisms are a kind of addition to glasses that help your eyes work together. My eyes work slightly independently, which makes me see double vision. Prisms straighten my vision. This isn’t the stressful part. The stressful part is the fact that I may need surgery if my eyesight gets bad enough. I have no idea if I’ll have to get surgery or not, but I really hope not. I also have an issue with speech; I didn’t start talking until I was around 5 years old, and I had to go to speech therapy instead of preschool. I still have trouble with speech sometimes, and I have been picked on because of it. I also have terrible allergies, and in school, it’s just more ammunition for bullying. For reasons unbenounced to me, I have had people call me gay and homosexual out of spite. I’ve also been called a variety of other colorful things, like fat-a*s, weak, stupid, terrible, sucky, and more. Now, at least the fat-a*s is gone; in fact, I used to be around 185 pounds and 4’11”. Now, I’m 6’0” and 147 pounds. I’ve evened out, but I swear, I have every single bit of teenage awkwardness imaginable. Long arms, long legs, short torso, acne up the wazoo, glasses, sniffling, and a large nose. I manage, though. In addition, I was always ahead of the game in the learning department. In fourth grade, I was immediately placed in the Z+ reading group. The difficulty used an alphabetical scale, A being the easiest and Z being the hardest. They made the Z+ reading group for kids whose reading exceeded that of the Z group. I recall maybe 4 other kids from the entire school being in that group; no doubt more bullying fuel. Now, I just laugh if people pick on me. Means they feel threatened my my intellect. Now, it feels good. I have joined an after school club for gamers, and I’ve met many friends there. I can cope with my stress much better, and the fact that I can even make Youtube videos with half of the effort that I do, for me at least, is a feat to be proud of. I have done things, however, that I am not proud of in the least. I hurt someone who used to be really close to me. I ran away from our issues, and now it’s too late to make up for it, I fear. I have tried to get back in contact with her, but I’ve failed many times. I have tried to apologize, and yet I am unsure if she really forgives me. Honestly, I wouldn’t blame her; if the rumors that I hear are true, then I may have been the one to make her life spiral downhill. For that, I could never forgive myself. Most of the time, I feel like I deserve the pain, any pain, I feel. I thought that the pain from my father’s ex’s were normal. I felt like I had done things bad enough to deserve it. For those of you who have received this through Google Docs, I send this to try and ease myself. I have hung onto this growing clusterfuck (pardon the language) for years; literally over half of my life. I want you to understand and read this, but I cannot ever really be sure that you will. I can only hope.