To all readers: TL;DR
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Today, upon this very day, I joined the fakku! community. I thank any and all people in advance for their kindness as well as their cruelty, for each and every experience will shape my online time as I frequent fakku.net.
I do not wish for a grand introduction, but rather an essay about myself, perhaps. So allow me to begin by explaining, in chronological order, every event in my life from my fourth birthday. I somehow have the memory to do that, and thus the speech begins...
When I turned four, my biological parents got a divorce, and my mother and father fought for custody over me. My father won in the end, because my mother was still doing drugs to that point, whereas my father had been clean since before my birth. My father relinquished his 1973 Harley Davidson Mortorcycle in order to pay his attorney's fees, which came with winning the case.
After that point, we moved into the home of an old lady, who happened to be a hoarder, on Cooper Mountain in Oregon. She was a kind old lady for the most part, but went crazy if you tried to throw anything away. We couldn't even take out the garbage from the kitchen without her flipping out. We moved within a week, to a small apartment complex in Beaverton, off of the Hillsdale highway.
It was here that my father was able to teach me more about English, in preparation for kindergarten. I was very bright for the tender age of four - most boys my age could not read entire books without prompting and help from their parents or elder siblings. But I did, mostly for fun because I found that the books 'were enjoyable', in my own words at that time.
At the apartments that we lived in at that point, I met for the first time my would-be stepmother and younger stepbrother. Approximately two weeks after our first meeting, they moved in together with my father and I. At first, I could not acknowledge my stepmother, mostly out of hatred for my biological mother, who had used my naivety as a young child in order to get her drugs at one time, not even a year ago from this point.
As for my brother - I had known no one my age before, and so he was the first person close to my age that I met. But we soon began fighting, because I couldn't mentally handle his teasing, and beat him up each time I was provoked, to the point that he would cry. Mostly in order to give me trouble.
Mostly, that tactic worked, because even though I didn't get in trouble very often, I had the consciousness at that point to feel guilty about beating him up, and I would often try to make it up to him later as well as apologizing. Sometimes we sorted out our problems fine, but sometimes he would provoke me into another fight where I would beat him up, and the process just happened again.
Also, in these apartments, shortly after we all settled in together as a would-be family, I met my first childhood friend. Her name was 'India', although she was the farthest thing from such in her blood heritage. We got along really well. She was also my first 'crush' as a child. We were both 5 years old then, and my brother would turn 5 the following month. Not a normal age for the precocious activities that followed.
My brother also had a crush on her, so we became 'love rivals', and we would go gather flowers from various neighboring gardens and yards, trying to do so without being caught. I never got caught because I only picked things that people wouldn't notice missing, like daisies or marigolds where abundant, and I would make daisy chains for her, putting marigolds in the links.
My brother however would look for the rarest, most beautiful flowers around the neighborhood, getting caught often before he could pick them, such as White roses or Blue lilies. Initially, he never got any flowers for India and left disappointed several times. But one morning he managed to get two blue lilies and a white rose, and all I had done was pick a few orange marigolds and made a circlet of daisies for her.
I then picked another fight with my brother, beating him up while shouting at him to tell me where to find the roses and lilies, but our parents intervened. My brother was, for the first time, not crying to get our parents' attention, but because he actually was hurt by what I had done. Or maybe, it was the first time I had felt such a complex feeling of guilt, when most of the time my guilt was simple enough that I though I could solve it with an apology.
I noticed that while I was beating on him I had smashed the lilies and the rose. He wasn't crying because I hurt his body or to get our parents' attention, but because I just destroyed all his hard work to get the rarest flowers around to impress India. I felt so guilty that I couldn't help but cry also, and as I was I picked up my daisy crown and marigolds and stomped on them in front of my brother.
After that I wiped my tears. "I'll help you find some lilies and roses to replace those ones, so stop crying." I said as I looked around at various gardens. My brother wiped his tears, and nodded, and asked "You wont try to steal any?"
I almost laughed, but then I saw that my brother was still crying, and I felt bad. "No, this time you win, you can give India all the flowers. I'm sorry that I ruined those ones." I replied. I noticed a garden behind the landlord's house had white roses and blue lilies, and so I asked Chris to wait there.
I went into the garden, looking around for anyone watching, and stole a white rose and two blue lilies. I then noticed that someone else had pulled a white rose and two blue lilies before me, so that must have been my brother. I came back after sneaking out and gave them to my brother, and went back to the apartment.
Little did we know that the landlord had set a camera in her backyard to watch for intruders, so we were caught on film picking her flowers. I went home, and Chris gave the flowers to India. About an hour later, the landlord showed up at our house, and I knew I was caught somehow when she was let in by my father, so I apologized, but then she said that I wasn't the only one, my brother did it as well.
I knew that, but I didn't want my brother to go through another painful experience like that, so I lied to cover up for him, saying that I tricked him into getting me those flowers because I was too scared to do it myself the first time. She believed me, and so did my parents, and so I was grounded to the house for a week.
My brother eventually did it again during that week and he was caught red-handed, brought home and grounded with me. India, who was our crush, had apparently been tricking Chris into getting those flowers for her, because she knew he would. I was so mad at her I could almost beat her up, too, at that time, but I wouldn't because I didn't fight girls, and also because I was grounded the house.
So instead, I sandwiched my face between my pillows and screamed for a while. My brother eventually said "You can punch me if you need to take your anger out." but I refused, because it wasn't his fault that I was angry. On one hand, We were both betrayed by our first friend, but on the other hand, we got along a little better as brothers now, and I had forgotten my stigma for him, which I can't even remember the reason for by now.
The fall of that year, we both got into kindergarten, and we both flunked kindergarten, which was near impossible, but for different reasons. I flunked because I would beat up any kid who provoked me, and I even fought with the teachers, clawing and biting to have my way.
My brother flunked because he never learned his ABCs. Whereas, I was expelled from that school and didn't have to repeat kindergarten, because academically I was ready for first grade of elementary school, my brother repeated kindergarten to learn what he needed to know by first grade.
I found first grade to be easier to handle than kindergarten because I was not at the same school as my brother, and so it was easier to make friends. Although, I was still a problem child in more ways than one, all of which were behavioral problems.
Regardless, I excelled at English and Mathematics, and I often aces spelling tests with little prior study, if any at all. Because of this, I was often praised by the teachers, so I studied mostly by reading a large, red-colored hardcover dictionary, Webster's Collegiate Edition. Grammar was also easy, and I was already beginning to read Harry Potter books, at this developmental age of six, albeit out of order.
The first chapter book I finished reading was Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, followed by Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. After that, I would eventually read the rest of the books in proper order, but only after hearing about the order of sequels in the series.
As for mathematics, I had mastered addition and subtraction in kindergarten, and so I began learning multiplication and division in first grade. This impressed many students as well as teachers, and I often got picked to do problems on the board, as well as asked for homework help from my classmates.
I was also highly athletic. I played soccer and ran around the track at my elementary school several times a day, making better time each time. I was one of the fastest runners in that elementary school by the time I was in second grade, and whenever we had a relay race, 100 meter dash, or 500 meter long-distance run, I would come in either first or third place.
Why did I never come in second? because that is where my brother always came. He was the anchor for the relay races most of the time, but he had the best 500 meter time record, which was initially the only athletic thing he could beat me at.
But in my third year of elementary school, some rumors went around about someone being faster than me, and so I took it upon myself to challenge this fifth grade student, who was three years older than myself, to a 100 meter race with a wager that whoever lost will not perform any athletics or exercises for 3 years, like the difference in our age.
I was so confident I was going to win, as I had a considerable lead. But then, I tripped on my shoelaces, which came undone while I was running. He won by 23 meters. He told me to forget the wager, but I screamed and shouted in objection. I then yelled "I always keep my promises, because a promise is as important as life itself!" and left the track in humiliation. As promised, I didn't do any sports, or even any athletic activities that would keep me in shape, for three entire years.
But I still got into fights with my brother and others at school. Eventually, by the time middle school began, my brother could endure my punches so well that they didn't hurt him anymore, also probably because I was out of shape from 3 years of no athletics. Eventually, he got angry and retaliated and beat me up instead. I was so humiliated that I had finally lost a fight against my brother that I ran away from home that day.
It was raining really hard that night, and I was dragging around a pink-and-red quilt that I got as a farewell gift from my favorite teacher in first grade. She was the one who nurtured my talents in athletics, my first grade PE teacher. Of course, by now it didn't even matter - my feeble and weak brother was no longer feeble and weak, and I had fallen to a pathetic level or strength, that my brother brushed off my punches like they didn't faze him.
Eventually the police found me wandering around and I was taken to the police station and questioned until they were able to contact my parents, and then I was released and taken home. My parents were angry that I was wandering around in the rain all night, and my father commented "He must be entering that teenage rebellious phase a couple years early."
It wasn't that at all. By now, I was far from feeling rebellious, and I just went along with whatever anyone said or wanted me to do for them. I had given up on nurturing my talents, and often played the class clown. My depression stemmed from an inferiority complex to my brother, who I envied for his athletic talents, which I used to have but no longer had anything resembling such.
Of course, I first fell behind in Mathematics, because I wasn't the only one who was gifted in it around my age, and so I felt like it wasn't worth the effort to try anymore if I wasn't the best. This led to an 'all-or-nothing' inferiority complex developing, where I would not do anything unless I was automatically perfect at it, and skilled enough to become the best with little effort.
One negative stacked upon another, as my tragic preteen years became shameful and painful teenage years. My first year as a teenager, I got into a fight that changed my life and my views for a very long time. It was three against me, and I was backed into a tall wooden fence, beaten down. So I did the unthinkable - I drew a fishing knife from my pocket, and shouted "Fishing knife, it floats!" and started swinging the blade recklessly aimed at each of the other kids who I was fighting.
They eventually ran away, but the police were called and I was hauled off to the county detention center that night. Of course, I only spent a single night in that cold cell, solid rock walls and stainless steel bed and toilet, but I remember each sensation like it was an eternity.
...
I am very tired from writing all of this, and this wasn't even a quarter of what I wanted to write. Looks like I'll call it a night. I thank anyone who had the indomitable patience to read this post from start to finish, and if it was too long for you, I hope you didn't read.
I do not wish for a grand introduction, but rather an essay about myself, perhaps. So allow me to begin by explaining, in chronological order, every event in my life from my fourth birthday. I somehow have the memory to do that, and thus the speech begins...
When I turned four, my biological parents got a divorce, and my mother and father fought for custody over me. My father won in the end, because my mother was still doing drugs to that point, whereas my father had been clean since before my birth. My father relinquished his 1973 Harley Davidson Mortorcycle in order to pay his attorney's fees, which came with winning the case.
After that point, we moved into the home of an old lady, who happened to be a hoarder, on Cooper Mountain in Oregon. She was a kind old lady for the most part, but went crazy if you tried to throw anything away. We couldn't even take out the garbage from the kitchen without her flipping out. We moved within a week, to a small apartment complex in Beaverton, off of the Hillsdale highway.
It was here that my father was able to teach me more about English, in preparation for kindergarten. I was very bright for the tender age of four - most boys my age could not read entire books without prompting and help from their parents or elder siblings. But I did, mostly for fun because I found that the books 'were enjoyable', in my own words at that time.
At the apartments that we lived in at that point, I met for the first time my would-be stepmother and younger stepbrother. Approximately two weeks after our first meeting, they moved in together with my father and I. At first, I could not acknowledge my stepmother, mostly out of hatred for my biological mother, who had used my naivety as a young child in order to get her drugs at one time, not even a year ago from this point.
As for my brother - I had known no one my age before, and so he was the first person close to my age that I met. But we soon began fighting, because I couldn't mentally handle his teasing, and beat him up each time I was provoked, to the point that he would cry. Mostly in order to give me trouble.
Mostly, that tactic worked, because even though I didn't get in trouble very often, I had the consciousness at that point to feel guilty about beating him up, and I would often try to make it up to him later as well as apologizing. Sometimes we sorted out our problems fine, but sometimes he would provoke me into another fight where I would beat him up, and the process just happened again.
Also, in these apartments, shortly after we all settled in together as a would-be family, I met my first childhood friend. Her name was 'India', although she was the farthest thing from such in her blood heritage. We got along really well. She was also my first 'crush' as a child. We were both 5 years old then, and my brother would turn 5 the following month. Not a normal age for the precocious activities that followed.
My brother also had a crush on her, so we became 'love rivals', and we would go gather flowers from various neighboring gardens and yards, trying to do so without being caught. I never got caught because I only picked things that people wouldn't notice missing, like daisies or marigolds where abundant, and I would make daisy chains for her, putting marigolds in the links.
My brother however would look for the rarest, most beautiful flowers around the neighborhood, getting caught often before he could pick them, such as White roses or Blue lilies. Initially, he never got any flowers for India and left disappointed several times. But one morning he managed to get two blue lilies and a white rose, and all I had done was pick a few orange marigolds and made a circlet of daisies for her.
I then picked another fight with my brother, beating him up while shouting at him to tell me where to find the roses and lilies, but our parents intervened. My brother was, for the first time, not crying to get our parents' attention, but because he actually was hurt by what I had done. Or maybe, it was the first time I had felt such a complex feeling of guilt, when most of the time my guilt was simple enough that I though I could solve it with an apology.
I noticed that while I was beating on him I had smashed the lilies and the rose. He wasn't crying because I hurt his body or to get our parents' attention, but because I just destroyed all his hard work to get the rarest flowers around to impress India. I felt so guilty that I couldn't help but cry also, and as I was I picked up my daisy crown and marigolds and stomped on them in front of my brother.
After that I wiped my tears. "I'll help you find some lilies and roses to replace those ones, so stop crying." I said as I looked around at various gardens. My brother wiped his tears, and nodded, and asked "You wont try to steal any?"
I almost laughed, but then I saw that my brother was still crying, and I felt bad. "No, this time you win, you can give India all the flowers. I'm sorry that I ruined those ones." I replied. I noticed a garden behind the landlord's house had white roses and blue lilies, and so I asked Chris to wait there.
I went into the garden, looking around for anyone watching, and stole a white rose and two blue lilies. I then noticed that someone else had pulled a white rose and two blue lilies before me, so that must have been my brother. I came back after sneaking out and gave them to my brother, and went back to the apartment.
Little did we know that the landlord had set a camera in her backyard to watch for intruders, so we were caught on film picking her flowers. I went home, and Chris gave the flowers to India. About an hour later, the landlord showed up at our house, and I knew I was caught somehow when she was let in by my father, so I apologized, but then she said that I wasn't the only one, my brother did it as well.
I knew that, but I didn't want my brother to go through another painful experience like that, so I lied to cover up for him, saying that I tricked him into getting me those flowers because I was too scared to do it myself the first time. She believed me, and so did my parents, and so I was grounded to the house for a week.
My brother eventually did it again during that week and he was caught red-handed, brought home and grounded with me. India, who was our crush, had apparently been tricking Chris into getting those flowers for her, because she knew he would. I was so mad at her I could almost beat her up, too, at that time, but I wouldn't because I didn't fight girls, and also because I was grounded the house.
So instead, I sandwiched my face between my pillows and screamed for a while. My brother eventually said "You can punch me if you need to take your anger out." but I refused, because it wasn't his fault that I was angry. On one hand, We were both betrayed by our first friend, but on the other hand, we got along a little better as brothers now, and I had forgotten my stigma for him, which I can't even remember the reason for by now.
The fall of that year, we both got into kindergarten, and we both flunked kindergarten, which was near impossible, but for different reasons. I flunked because I would beat up any kid who provoked me, and I even fought with the teachers, clawing and biting to have my way.
My brother flunked because he never learned his ABCs. Whereas, I was expelled from that school and didn't have to repeat kindergarten, because academically I was ready for first grade of elementary school, my brother repeated kindergarten to learn what he needed to know by first grade.
I found first grade to be easier to handle than kindergarten because I was not at the same school as my brother, and so it was easier to make friends. Although, I was still a problem child in more ways than one, all of which were behavioral problems.
Regardless, I excelled at English and Mathematics, and I often aces spelling tests with little prior study, if any at all. Because of this, I was often praised by the teachers, so I studied mostly by reading a large, red-colored hardcover dictionary, Webster's Collegiate Edition. Grammar was also easy, and I was already beginning to read Harry Potter books, at this developmental age of six, albeit out of order.
The first chapter book I finished reading was Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, followed by Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. After that, I would eventually read the rest of the books in proper order, but only after hearing about the order of sequels in the series.
As for mathematics, I had mastered addition and subtraction in kindergarten, and so I began learning multiplication and division in first grade. This impressed many students as well as teachers, and I often got picked to do problems on the board, as well as asked for homework help from my classmates.
I was also highly athletic. I played soccer and ran around the track at my elementary school several times a day, making better time each time. I was one of the fastest runners in that elementary school by the time I was in second grade, and whenever we had a relay race, 100 meter dash, or 500 meter long-distance run, I would come in either first or third place.
Why did I never come in second? because that is where my brother always came. He was the anchor for the relay races most of the time, but he had the best 500 meter time record, which was initially the only athletic thing he could beat me at.
But in my third year of elementary school, some rumors went around about someone being faster than me, and so I took it upon myself to challenge this fifth grade student, who was three years older than myself, to a 100 meter race with a wager that whoever lost will not perform any athletics or exercises for 3 years, like the difference in our age.
I was so confident I was going to win, as I had a considerable lead. But then, I tripped on my shoelaces, which came undone while I was running. He won by 23 meters. He told me to forget the wager, but I screamed and shouted in objection. I then yelled "I always keep my promises, because a promise is as important as life itself!" and left the track in humiliation. As promised, I didn't do any sports, or even any athletic activities that would keep me in shape, for three entire years.
But I still got into fights with my brother and others at school. Eventually, by the time middle school began, my brother could endure my punches so well that they didn't hurt him anymore, also probably because I was out of shape from 3 years of no athletics. Eventually, he got angry and retaliated and beat me up instead. I was so humiliated that I had finally lost a fight against my brother that I ran away from home that day.
It was raining really hard that night, and I was dragging around a pink-and-red quilt that I got as a farewell gift from my favorite teacher in first grade. She was the one who nurtured my talents in athletics, my first grade PE teacher. Of course, by now it didn't even matter - my feeble and weak brother was no longer feeble and weak, and I had fallen to a pathetic level or strength, that my brother brushed off my punches like they didn't faze him.
Eventually the police found me wandering around and I was taken to the police station and questioned until they were able to contact my parents, and then I was released and taken home. My parents were angry that I was wandering around in the rain all night, and my father commented "He must be entering that teenage rebellious phase a couple years early."
It wasn't that at all. By now, I was far from feeling rebellious, and I just went along with whatever anyone said or wanted me to do for them. I had given up on nurturing my talents, and often played the class clown. My depression stemmed from an inferiority complex to my brother, who I envied for his athletic talents, which I used to have but no longer had anything resembling such.
Of course, I first fell behind in Mathematics, because I wasn't the only one who was gifted in it around my age, and so I felt like it wasn't worth the effort to try anymore if I wasn't the best. This led to an 'all-or-nothing' inferiority complex developing, where I would not do anything unless I was automatically perfect at it, and skilled enough to become the best with little effort.
One negative stacked upon another, as my tragic preteen years became shameful and painful teenage years. My first year as a teenager, I got into a fight that changed my life and my views for a very long time. It was three against me, and I was backed into a tall wooden fence, beaten down. So I did the unthinkable - I drew a fishing knife from my pocket, and shouted "Fishing knife, it floats!" and started swinging the blade recklessly aimed at each of the other kids who I was fighting.
They eventually ran away, but the police were called and I was hauled off to the county detention center that night. Of course, I only spent a single night in that cold cell, solid rock walls and stainless steel bed and toilet, but I remember each sensation like it was an eternity.
...
I am very tired from writing all of this, and this wasn't even a quarter of what I wanted to write. Looks like I'll call it a night. I thank anyone who had the indomitable patience to read this post from start to finish, and if it was too long for you, I hope you didn't read.
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I won't say I read it all, but I did read some bits... The ending was sort of anti-climatic thought...
...
Oh, yeah, welcome~
...
Oh, yeah, welcome~
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heh, I felt like reading something long, can I expect a part two sometime in the future? (Yes, I read it all...)
Anywho welcome to the forums, enjoy your stay.
Anywho welcome to the forums, enjoy your stay.
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INTERNET, I CHOSE YOU!
INTERNET, UNNEEDED BEST SELLING BOOK ON FORUMS
Sorry for my blabber up there. I read maybe 2% of it. Anyway, welcome. I'm fairly new myself.
INTERNET, UNNEEDED BEST SELLING BOOK ON FORUMS
Sorry for my blabber up there. I read maybe 2% of it. Anyway, welcome. I'm fairly new myself.
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Hi there and welcome to fakku. Nice greeting, haven't read it though as anyone else. Guess it was about your life and problems, so I would recommend posting that in Dreams and Aspirations.. or Love, Romance, and Relationships. Hm..
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girutiya wrote...
The title is too long.Welcome to Fakku anyways and have fun at the forums!
thanks. I'll mainly lurk in IB since I've been watching it for so long and the BS is pretty fun.
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LivingLegend wrote...
girutiya wrote...
The title is too long.Welcome to Fakku anyways and have fun at the forums!
thanks. I'll mainly lurk in IB since I've been watching it for so long and the BS is pretty fun.
Why lurk? Join them too.
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girutiya wrote...
Why lurk? Join them too.
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LivingLegend wrote...
girutiya wrote...
Why lurk? Join them too.Guess I will. I'm already posting in IB since I made this topic, mainly to keep a low post count.
Why want a low post count?
