• My entire life I was always stuck wondering if anyone else felt like I did. I hoped no one had to feel that way. I just want to help people. I never thought it whould be this hard to just stay alive. They say the beginning is always the hardest. I've thought of that so much. When does the beginning actually end? I suppose this is the beginning.

    My birth is actual a funny story. It was Autumn, football season. My father is such a fan of football. It was during the day. My mother went into labor and she had already had my brother so she knew what labor really felt like. My father insisted he wanted to watch football. I don't think a woman in labor is in any condition to drive. My father finally gave in and brought my Mom to a hospital about 35 minutes away. My mother started to beat him with a hair brush. There were plenty of hospitals closer than the one he brought her. They arrived and the parking lot was empty, but my father kept driving around in circles. My mother beat him harder with the hair brush. She got in the hospital and after 4 hours of labor, I was born into this world.

    My father was an unfortunate abusive alcoholic. He would beat most of us in the house. It's claimed that I was never hit, but I remember some things. My brother and I were moved to my grandparents next door. I stayed there for too long. My grandmother had never wanted to even be a woman. My brother was always better than me. I tried my hardest to be better, but I never could be. My brother was into all these clubs and such with school.

    I had started to notice that I had a problem in primary. My brother was so outgoing. I couldn't get myself to talk to anyone. Teachers always got on me to talk louder, but I couldn't. I moved onto into my high school (4th grade to 12th grade). It was in middles school that the school singled me out as having a problem. My peers hated me. I was different. I just had some problem with talking to people. They always reported me to the Guidance Office because they thought I was doing drugs. I just suffered from migraines really bad and had social anxiety. I was given an ultimatum to see a psychologist or get kicked out the school.

    I saw the psychologist which was very hard for me to work on talking like nothing was wrong, but you can't hide all your problems. He diagnosed me with social anxiety and severe depression. I was told to see a psychiatrist who diagnosed me more with Bipolar depression and social phobia. I tried to continue with my few friends.

    My friend started dating when she was 14. I was talked into dating his friend. They were well over our age and about 18. We got along fine. I'd like to think so. He would molest me and told me that's how people in love were. I was touched and it scared me so deep. Time passed and my friend and the guy were having problems. I tried to help that one night that she hid herself under his desk and started kicking him. I was kicked a few times trying to ask her what was wrong. It took us a very long time to finally get told what had happened, but we'll get to that later.

    We broke up, but we still saw each other a lot with my friend dating his best friend. We decided to secretly date which should have been a red light for me that this was not going to be good. I didn't see that light. Perhaps a month went by when it all fell to pieces. I went at his house, his Dad's house. He had lied to me in the car saying his brother and Dad were there. We got there and no one was there. I immediately just wanted to get home, but I hid that feeling. We went into his room. He started to unbutton my jeans. I glared at him. "No. I don't want this." He disregarded what I said. I decided I should be violent. I kicked him as hard as I could in his stomach, but I was aiming for his genitals. I started squirming to get out the bed and just run out the house, but he pinned me down. I was then raped.

    I should have screamed, but I don't think it would have done a thing at all. I kept this to myself. I bottled it up inside for as long as I could. It was tenth grade when it became too much for me. It was after school it fell to pieces. I walked through the doors of the house then I fell to my knees crying. "What's wrong?" I shook my head. "Are you okay?" I just cried more. I don't remember much after that. I was 15 then. At least a year had passed. I didn't want them to know. I was suffering. I was blaming myself. I was so stupid.

    I was kicked out of the high school I was attending and began the quest to find a new one. I went to the school board of the parish/county near me. I had letters from members of my family, Psychiatrist, and other connections. The man looked at me and read the letters. I think he was laughing in his mind. My Mom was with me. She asked him if I could please attend that public high school. I'd have my own transportation and everything that you need to do so. He looked at me. "I will not allow this psychotic b***h into my school system." My eyes filled with tears and I looked at my Mom. "Are ignorant or just an a**?" We walked out that office so angry. I look back and think I should have got that guy fired or arrested for harassment.

    I got in the next year of his precious school system through a family favor. My first day was a bit hard on my social anxiety. I had a good handful of friends there, my relief. There was at least a thousand other students so no one was looking straight at me, right? I had fell in love before then with Andrew or Andy. I hung by him all the time. It was so wonderful. He was so sweet, so nice. My brother had moved in for his first year of college. He had graduated with honors. I swore I'd do better. I had been on chess team for at least two years now. This was going to be my third year of being a member. I was making the top scores in every class and went to Rally for my computer class (Introduction to Business Computer Applications) as well as helped a senior pass Computer Science I.

    My life was always semi-stable. My grandmother was mentally abusive. My entire family thought I was the bad seed. Screw them. I knew I could always do better than anyone, as long as I did my best. My brother was always gold. I didn't care. I'd make it....

    Then, it really went down. I thought I had lived the worst. I was very wrong, but I just assumed that was how life was. Andy, my brother's friend, my brother and I were all going to his apartment and then to the movies. I had waited at my grandparents for him to come get Andy and I. If I could take back that trip, but I can't. We only lasted in the car for maybe 15 minutes. Something went wrong. We hit another car, head-on. I remember the pain. I remember it so well. My entire face was screaming. I was attached to my brother's seat that had detached and swung at the backseat where Andy and I were at. I was bleeding. I was really bleeding. I didn't even know where my glasses were at. I looked around a bit. Suddenly, I was worried. I kicked the driver's seat, my brother's seat. I didn't hear anything. I kicked again. I kicked again and again. Then, I turned my head to Andy realizing this could be the last time I'd see him or he see me. I wanted to thank him for helping me from almost drowning in my own blood. I placed my hand on my forehead to see if I was bleeding. I pulled down my hand and starred at more blood than I'd like to see.

    Blackness squared into my vision. I felt dizzy suddenly and faint. It covered it all. I was out. I can't say how long I was out for, but it was long enough for my family to loose hope for me. My grandfather gave away my four wheeler. I don't know when it was, but suddenly all I felt was pain. I couldn't breathe, scream, or move. I couldn't tell them I was hurting. I didn't know what to do. I felt myself slipping away. Was this death? I don't know. I tried to breathe more. I couldn't. I tried to move. I couldn't. I tried to scream. I couldn't. The pain slowly sedated and I found myself able to breathe again. I woke up several days later or whatever. (I was out for about a week. Now read this paragraph again knowing I was in a coma for a week.) The doctors said that I may never wake up. I woke up and they said I could be a vegetable for the rest of my life.

    I remember a bit of waking up. I remember the feeling. That fear inside me because I was paralyzed on one side of my body. I kept trying to move my left arm. I wanted to sit up, but I couldn't. It was pretty scary. The pain returned coursing in my face. I opened my mouth and managed screams. I wanted two things. How odd I remember these things! I wanted a morphine drip and my Mom.

    I couldn't remember what had happened. Why was I in this room? What happened? Where am I? Am I alive? What was that pain I felt that I remember so dearly? Those questions plagued my mind. The nurses were so nice. You are in a hospital. You were in a car accident. You'll be okay. I don't think that answered everything. My father showed up and started rubbing my legs that were bruised beyond belief. I wish I could have screamed.

    I was moved from ICU to the Rehabilitation floor to get myself working better and not be paralyzed. They said I'd never walk again. I just looked at them with such a look. I wanted to say 'How much money do you want to put on that?', but I needed to talk more. I had therapy like every day. I would scream covered in bruises.

    It was finally time to give me the news. My Mom talked with a therapist of mine and they decided it would be best to drug me to tell me. My brother passed away. Andy passed away. I just cried and cried. My entire world had shattered. When you've hit rock bottom, the only way to go is up. I didn't want to be alive. I blamed myself so much.