Thread: Chaos Theory: Causing Hahvoc.

Re Chaos Theory Causing Hahvoc. The Truth Destroys As I said before, I was a naive child and thought with all my heart that people were good and that if someone did something mean, I must of done something to deserve it. Boys didn't like me and girls were worse in their hate. I don't know why they didn't like me, I still don't. My friends were the teachers because no one else wanted to get to know me, and I suppose it added to their disgust. In middle school, I started to learn who were my friends and who were pretenders. But it took a lot of suffering to figure out that people were liars and wore their own masks. I had worn that mask that hid what had happened in my house for so long that I couldn't picture anyone else trying to harm me. I made friends but a lot of people seemed to dislike me. I'm the type of person who tries to get everyone involved in a conversation or any activity, and when I was little, I was more open and confident that if I was nice, other people would be nice back. Treat others like you would want to be treated, was my motto. But not everyone followed that or treated me the same. There were many days I came home crying and the worst part of my sixth grade career was when my cat had been put to sleep while I was at my father's house. My cat, Oreo, had been my best friend, the tear chaser, my baby, my protector. And with him gone, I felt like nothing would be the same. He would never sit on my lap or wake me up in the morning with his insistent yowling. He would never lay with me on the couch while I read my books. I could never hug him again and cry while he licked my tears away. My best friend was gone, and I didn't know if I would ever have another. Even if he was an animal, he kept me happy. With his passing, I was sad a lot, but I had to do well in school to make Daddy dearest proud of me because it was the only way to make him proud. I've always been a smart person and it was seen in my grades and how well I understood the material. But when I look back on myself, I was emotionally fucked up. A lot of things hurt me because I didn't have any defenses for them. People said a few bad things and I went into tears. And with Oreo gone, I had to build a thicker shell and I managed not to let a lot of things bother me. It was the beginning of my transformation. I remember my best friend at the time, Beth, had pulled a terrible prank on me. Since basically no one liked me, when she told me a boy wanted to give me his number to call him, I was beyond thrilled even though I didn't really like him or know him. But I was given someone else's number. And when I found his number and called him, he hung up on me. I didn't know why and when I went into school the next day, Beth was laughing. My best friend had lied to my face and had been laughing at me the whole time. Now, I had never been an angry person until I started to change and I had never pushed anyone away physically unless I was playing around. I think I blacked out for a second because next thing I knew, I had showed that bitch right out of her chair and I had wished that she get injured. She fell to the ground, still laughing her ass off before she hit her head on one of the desks. But did that stop her? No. She kept right on laughing, saying it was a joke and that I should lighten up. Me? Lighten up? I wanted to deck her in the face. After that, we stopped being friends. My other friend, Beth H, hadn't understood why Beth had done that to me, and even I don't know. But despite how awful it had been in my mind back then, it helped me figure out that no matter how nice you are, some people just don't like you. And Beth was all but forgotten when I lost my grandfather. Grampy was who I turned to when I had to visit him and Grammy and my dad's side of the family. He gave me bear hugs and told me he loved me no matter what. He made me feel protected when I had to deal with all the stupid prissiness of my cousins. He accepted me, no questions asked. And now he was gone. I didn't know what to do with myself when Dad told me over the phone that Grampy was sick and in the hospital. He passed away days later from double pneumonia and a heart attack. And I couldn't believe it. My other protector was gone and I had no way to defend myself against my dad's side of the family. They didn't know me and didn't want to get to know me. They ridiculed what they knew of me and made jokes about me behind my back. I was alone in my young world and I didn't know how to deal with it all. I missed three days of school and when I went back, it was like no one had noticed I was gone. I told the class that my grandfather had died, but no one cared. Another student's mother had died so there was no sympathy left over for me. I was sorry that the girl's mother had died from an illness, but the girl herself was a bitch from hell and hated me like it was her job. A few months passed and a rumor was started that I had lice. Now, it's silly now to think that, Oooh, lice, big deal. But back then, it was insane what happened to me. The rumor lasted for probably a day, but in that day, I was treated like I had plague. No one would touch me, no one wanted to come near me. When I sat down in gym class, people sat three feet around me in a circle, isolating me. Only my real friends sat beside me. And when people asked if I had lice, I was so confused. Why would I have lice? Why would they think that? It didn't make sense. People came up to me that knew me and some that didn't know me, asking me if I had lice like I was some sort of freak. It was ridiculous and stupid, but it killed me nonetheless. After that, I felt like life was going down the drain. I was only twelve years old and I was already feeling like my world was over. Each emotional blow pushed me into a mild depression. I didn't know what was wrong with me. But my summer was fine until I started hanging out with the bad crowd at school. I felt alone, but I hanging out with people with less than good reputations. But I didn't care. I was being accepted and taught how to do things, like steal. And I did steal. I broke the law even when I knew it was wrong, but it made me feel powerful because I had control over something that I was doing. As stupid as it was, and as stupid as I knew I was being, I kept right on stealing. But in my mind, I wanted to get caught. I wanted to be noticed because I didn't know what was wrong with me. I did get caught, and it was the worse day of my life. Florida is rather unforgiving with shoplifting, and thankfully, I was still twelve years old or they would have arrested me. I had successfully ruined the rest of my family's vacation and I was still miserable. Of course I was! I was stupid and stole, even when I knew that I shouldn't. I told myself not to do it and I still did. It was the start of one of the worst years of my life. Seventh grade, the changing point. My parents didn't trust me, by then John was living with us. I had been horseback riding until that point, but that was taken away. I lost a lot of privileges but my mother was now paying attention to me. I needed that because I didn't know how to tell her that for some reason, I was looking at sharp objects and wanting to use them on my skin, that when I went to sleep I was afraid I wouldn't wake up. I was unable to sort through this weird stage in my life where I finally realized, with intense clarity, that Dad was lying to me and kept thinking that I needed to stay the same. I couldn't handle anything anymore. Thirteen and my life was going down the drain. I drifted by, my grades suffered because I wanted to disappear and just fade away. I focused more on reading than on school. I focused more on playing with matches and lighting things on fire to bother with friends Not that I was allowed to hang out with them. And with each passing day, I started to get more and more angry. My dad, my knight in shining armor, was actually the dragon, lying to me behind his shield. My mother didn't trust me, my friends didn't give a shit that I had gotten in trouble. I didn't have any place to run and I needed some way out. And the more I thought of it, the more I started to change. I started wearing black and got into rock music and metal. I started to change from being a preppy little girl into a bitch who didn't care any more. I was no longer sweet and nice. I was no longer innocent. I was stripped bare and I started to push people away. I couldn't trust anyone when I couldn't even trust myself. I was disappearing and I was absolutely terrified of what I might do to myself to feel alive again.