Well, I was browsing the forums, and something had been bumped up from a while ago, and this thread I read inspired me to write this.. That thread is HTML: http://forum.grasscity.com/real-life-stories/453564-seriously-seriously-i-quit.html Warning: Long read. Let's start off with the basics, I was born where I live now, in New Hampshire. There is not much to do around here, and it is fairly peaceful. Born in the year of 1991, I was clueless of what life had in store for me. I lived with my father and mother in a great house, but we were poverty stricken - it's amazing, when you're a child, money does not matter. I was completely oblivious to the fact that we were poor, and it didn't matter to me, because my main joy came three years later, when my younger brother was born. Shortly after that, my first nephew was born - with this, I grew a new responsibility. Let's skip ahead now, to when I was around ten. We still lived in the same house, but things were getting rough. My father turned to alcohol to cope with the marriage problems, and my mother found a different man. This is what tore the family apart. My brother and I got very irritable, and fought a lot, so I found a new joy, a best friend, his name was Rob. Rob wasn't the best influence on me, he got me to try marijuana for the first time, and to smoke my first cigarette. I didn't like the cigarettes, but I immediately fell in love with the jane. Who could not love such a great herb? Well, this story is not about marijuana - it's about me. Thirteen years old, hospitalized. Stomach full of charcoal, and a tube down my throat. It felt like I was constantly puking - but I wasn't. The puking already happened, and trust me, there was plenty of it. I wish I could remember it clearly, so I could tell it to you. All I remember is killing a fifth of vodka - at 80 pounds. I felt like dying. I puked all over the house, and fell down a hill into a puddle. I was at my father's house, two minutes away from my mother's. I was hanging out with a couple friends, one of which was Rob. My father was away, down in Florida. He was tending to my nephew, who had recently been diagnosed with Neuroblastoma cancer. When my mother picked me up, with my little brother in the car - she knew what happened, and she brought me to the hospital. I would tell you the rest, but to be honest, it's quite vague. Here is some new basic information, my parents are divorced, and my father is an alcoholic. He is losing his money, fast, and has gone through plenty of jobs. He lost his license for a DUI charge. Fourteen now, I'm in my room, just got done smoking. My mother was on her way to the store and to pick up my backpack from my father's house that I left there. She has been awhile, so the high buzz is wearing off when she gets home. She comes home in tears, I ask her what's wrong. My father attempted suicide. I didn't even cry - I didn't even wince at it. But, I love my father. I always have, it's not that I didn't care about him dying. He taught me so much about life, but he was turning wreckless. I guess I saw this coming - that's why I wasn't surprised. It's a terrible thing to have your mind plagued with suicide at the age of fourteen and onward. I have not gone a day without thinking about my father attempting suicide. This event, left me so fucking depressed. My father tried taking his own life, but he failed. What the fuck? Why couldn't he just succeed, now I have to look into his eyes and know that I'm not worth living for. He could have at least left a note that said he still loved me, but there was no note. There was nothing, just an empty glass of scotch on the night stand, a razor, slit wrists, and my six foot four father, laying there, close to death. I still love him, and I always will. I know it's hard for him, to live knowing what I know... * * * * * * * * My father went to rehabilitation, but it didn't work out. He went two years without a drink, but for some unknown reason, he went back to booze. Currently an alcoholic, I find it hard to show love for him, when I do love him. He's so different when he's sober - I love the sober Michael. But there is no existent sober Mike, just the drunk one, the asshole one, who always yells. That's why I live with my mother, until graduation at least. * * * * * * * * Still fourteen, a freshman in high school. I met the devil for the first time this year, the devil took form of a girl, and called itself Brittany. Brittany had gone through as much shit as I have. We clicked, instantly. Sadly, she had a boyfriend - I turned to her best friend, even though I had all the intentions of dating her. She went on from boyfriend to boyfriend, and everyone new one killed me even more - I was gaining hope of becoming her boyfriend, but it all crashed. It beat me up inside, that I couldn't talk to her about being her boyfriend - I wanted to tell her how much I really loved her, how butterflies flew throughout my stomach when she walked in the door to first period, and then again fourth period. I wanted to tell her how I loved the short, meaningless conversations we have from the end of fourth period, to the beginning of fifth. I remember the day her then-boyfriend broke up with her - we were all in the same study hall. She went over to talk to him, then came over to talk to me, sobbing. I immediately knew what was wrong. I walked over to the kid who broke her heart with my binder in hand. I hit him across the head with my binder, and punched him a few times. Now, I was a little person, so there was no fair fight. I just suckered him, and beat him up. I thought this would make me feel good - but it made me feel terrible. I want to be peaceful, and not hurt anyone. Why the fuck did I do this? Did I really love this girl that much? What was wrong with me? This was terrible. I beat a kid up for no reason. The girl I fell in love with, wasn't even a real friend. All she did was use me, for my money and my marijuana. Now, how fucked up is that, that I fell in love with this demon? Hah. Sophomore year, things started to turn around. I didn't see my father much these years, he lived a hundred something miles away. I became popular this year, after showing off my skills in the game soccer. I guess I was just a natural player, and I loved the sport. I attended parties, made friends, and a lot more - the perfect high school year. Hell, I even had a threesome with two college girls this year. But I forgot about all that once I met a girl, Sara, this year. Brittany was gone. She left, moved to California. I lost all contact with her, and I'm glad. Sara was everything I wasn't. We were perfect for each other, or at least I thought we were. We had our fights, and we got through them. We did everything the traditional couples do. But one night, she went to a party, and had sex with someone else. That someone else, was my friend. I didn't blame him - he didn't even know her. She went to a whole different school. He told me that weekend, since he lost his virginity to her, he made a big deal out of it. After he told me who it was, I flipped out, left school. Got suspended for breaking the main entrance doors with my foot. And those doors aren't the only things I broke, I broke my right foot. Fuck. Out for the soccer season. I obviously didn't stay with Sara, no matter how much she begged and pleaded. I broke up with her. What seemed so perfect, was so wrong. How come I can't have a good life? What wrong did I do? This year, I also created a facebook. Hah. I added all my friends, and family. Including my uncle - who helped fuck up my life since the day I was born. Now, I'm a huge 2Pac fan. So I set my facebook status to one of his lyrics... "Steady stressin', Smith and Wesson, count my blessings", and later that night, I got a doorbell ring. I walked downstairs to answer it. Arrested. Warrant at my face. Two policemen went upstairs, to my room, and combed it. The warrant said it was for suspicion of illegal firearms... Fuck you, Tim. Fuck you. What they didn't find - a gun. What they DID find - marijuana. An eighth of it - this got me in so much shit. Community service done, and grounded for a long time. Junior year went by too fast - I did the same thing as sophomore year - just party, party, party. This was the only way I could get away. The only way I could fully escape from reality. I live with my mother, my brother got arrested and sent to juvey. Possession, and selling. This was just hell. I saw her for about one hour a day. My grades dropped, I started to not give two shits about my future. What was a future good for, if I was just going to end up like the rest of us? Dead. Ugh, mind plagued by suicide again. Not just suicide, but suicidal thoughts. One to the head, leave me alone. I just want to clear my head. I just want to get away. Senior year was different. I mean, I was still the same person. But worse. I got arrested for possession, and being 18, I went to jail. I got arrested for a DUI, and arrested twice more for driving with a suspended license. Great. I got out each time on bail. Thank you grandpa. Thank you grandma. Met a great friend, Nathan. We had a lot in common, all we wanted to get was money, money, money. We started growing, and selling. But that wasn't enough. We started flipping E, acid, shrooms, and all that stuff. Still wasn't enough. We rolled through the city, and Nathan's idea was different than mine. I thought we were just making a sale, but what we were really doing was stealing this guys weed, and this guys guns. We got, a 9MM pistol, a pump action shotgun, a 30-odd-6, and a glock 17. He took all the stuff, I knew it wasn't right to take from other people. I was just the driver. We... HE sold everything we stole, except for the glock. We left that in the car, because we were getting more and more money, and we needed protection. Skip ahead, two weeks. We get into a fight at a party, it's 2 (us), versus 10 (them). We run to the car, and speed away. One of the mob takes a baseball bat and smashes the back of our car, breaking our tail light. Ten minutes later, we get pulled over. Nathan is driving. The cop has probable cause, and searches the car. He finds the glock. Unregistered. Nathan says it's mine, since it was under the passenger seat. Fuck you Nathan, you coward. I go to jail, miss a lot of school. My grades show it. I was in jail for two weeks before I got bailed out. I haven't seen Nathan since. Now who can I trust? A week after I'm out on jail, I get a phone call. It's my sister. My nephew died. I have neglected our relationship so much, but now he's gone. How can I make it up to him? I'm such a scum bag. What made me this way? Was it the greed? The weed? Or just the way I lead my life? Fuck you, Julian. Fuck you. I'm the true coward, I couldn't face anything in my life the way I wanted to. I haven't seen my brother in two years. I haven't seen my father in two years. They live together now. I wonder how he's doing? Will everything be okay? Which brings me to today, I'm so jaded. I don't have a significant other. All I have are friends, and you, GC. You guys help me relate, and cheer me up with the funny things you say. I love you, GrassCity. Now let's hope, things will get better. I want to change...
It's hard to do that, but I'm working on it. I know people have gone through a lot worse than I have. And most of the shit that has affected IS my fault, and I know that.
wow. thats rough. Why dont you visit your father and brother? And if you ask me, It seems that youve been in some really bad situations but youve gotten out with the best possible outcome for that situation, so you obviously are smart and dedicated.
When it rains, it pours. Sometimes it seems like life is out to screw you over, but it is not. Keep on living, and if you change your ways from what you were doing, I believe you will make many changes for the better.
It's just you against the world. The rough experiences give you a hardened shell and thats something the majority of people don't have, not to that extent. Take pride in who you are and keep on livin man Find a thing or two that you really live for, that make you feel good and keep on keepin on thru that personally, all I got is blunt smokin and tupac jammin on late nights cruisin down the street its the only thing that keeps me sane lifes a bitch and then you die Hate what you been thru but love who it made you
Thanks for the feedback guys, I know you think it probably doesn't mean a lot, but it does. I just need to know how I am going to change.. I wanna go to college, but my grades are SHIT. And it's senior year, great. I'm thinking of trying to post-grad somewhere, then go to college. But I'll need money first..
Oh! And I owe my grandparents $10,000, and I have no job. No one will hire me with my record. I want to fake my death, and just get away.
Honestly if I were you, and I have come close to doing this and I think I will, just get a shitty fastfood job or something get a couple grand together and just fucking leave and go to some place completely random I think it will really show you how much more there is to life than what we see here
to be honest man I think considering the situations you've been in, you've come out as best as you possibly could have. the glass is half-full man, stay optimistic, as you said, people have gone through MUCH worse and come out amazing people. it's not over yet man, you've got an entire life ahead of you to do what you wanna do and there's plenty of small moments ahead for you that will make up for the shit ones tenfold
Yeah, I want to, but I think to much. As soon as I think of leaving, I think of how many people I would affect negatively, my mom, mainly. I'm the only person she has anymore.
could be worse if you were a convicted felon you would be doing a mandatory jail sentence for that firearm. Im in the same situation with the record thing no one will hire you except for minimum wage jobs. The best thing to do is work towards a certificate or degree and keep a part time job at the same time. Then you can work at getting your own house. thats my plan then i can enjoy life once i make it through these hard times i plan on geting a boat, my own garage to work on my own cars The only hard part is working/time to get to where you want to be, but if you get there the legal way its yours and no one can take that from you.
We come from similar roots. I was also born into poverty, dad turned to addiction (alcohol in your case, heroin in mine), mom was never quite the same and a whole slew of shit to follow it up, including suicidal family members, suicidal thoughts of my own, bitches and cops, betrayals from friends. So, you aren't alone. Ive come to the realization that i am glad all this shit has happened in my life, it has made me a stronger and better person. The past is behind you now, just hang in there.
Not to sound like a asshole, but today even I see posts in the forums similar to yours but those people don't have friends to fall back on. Try to reconcile with your brother/sister/mom and get support from your friends till things get better.
wait so how old are you now? I mean the story ends at around 18 right? And its pretty weird that you got arrested for a gun that doesnt have your fingerprints on it.
Love your grandparents, what would be going on now if they didn't help you, would your butthole be stretched? try to pay them as much as you can and bounce. maybe a grand to show your trying, save a couple mo and catch me on the west side hangin.