Chapitre 1: Childhood thru half of Third Grade
What is life? Is it a series of events that we are ment to learn from and apply that to the rest of our lives? For me it is much more than that.
My earliest memory isn't anything special, rather the opposite Really. I remember my first day of elementary school. I had a wonderful teacher and I greatly admired her. To me, I was no one special even if I were the favorite grandchild of my father's father, but my story starts way before elementary school.
My story begins on Monday, September the 12th, 1988. According to my mom, my dad was no where around. It was just she and I in the room as dad had ran out to get food and didn't arrive back until about an hour after I was born. Sadly, I died not once but three different times. The doctors told my mother that if I didn't start breathing on my own that I would be announced dead. Stillborn. Yet, apparently God had and still has a plan for me. I would begin breathing after having a seizure and the Doctor whom delivered me looked at mom and told her what was happening and that if I continued to have seizures that badly, I most likely would not see my twenty first birthday.
So skip ahead to September of 1993. My dad's adopted mother had passed away and it destroyed me. It gave me a hard look at how life plays out and introduced me to a lack of love I didn't know how to deal with. This caused me to act out and hold my breath until I would cause myself to have a seizure. As I would begin school two years later, I had already learned to not only minipulate my seizures, but the people I loved dearly in order to get what I wanted. I would do this a lot growing up and recall most of my classmates didn't quite understand why I was getting to go home from holding my breath.
Speaking of school, I was introduced to love at an early age as well. I remember recess and meeting a beautiful girl whom we are gonna call Kate. Her emerald eyes and red hair set my soul ablaze every time she would be around me. Every day, I would wait until I got to see her before I wouldn't want to be at school anymore. When I would get home, I would do my homework and develop my imagination until I created games of my own. This was my way of dealing with other issues which included being half of the subject of a custody war which would last until the night my grandfather would be hospitalized when I was thirteen.
I don't know what you are thinking, but I will say I saw so much from an early age, that I blamed everything on myself. My mom and grandpa fighting over me and my sister, me getting grounded for my family not getting along, everything. Then when I was in second grade, I began to hear the voices. They would talk to me and cloud my mind saying things like, "You know if you weren't around, the fighting would stop. The fighting is because of you and won't stop until you are dead." So what do I do or say? I go to my teacher and tell her I know where my grandfather keeps his pistol and I plan on killing myself because everything is my fault. Naturally, This is a problem. She gets me to repeat my plan to my guidance counselor, who begins seeing me every Thursday. During my sessions, She and I would talk and she would eventually be the one who gave me the confidence I needed in order to learn to whistle. I was so happy when I was finally able to do it, that I was soon classified as annoying not only by my classmates (including Kate for whom my heart held a flame that would shame the sun) but also my inner circle which was my mom and sisters. That resulted in me being drug down to a quiet individual. Instead of talking about things or asking for help, I would get upset and turn to Video games. Now remember, at this time I was having seizures pretty regularly ( once to three times a day) and my favorite thing to do is effecting my seizures by causing me to have them, so you can imagine how devestated I was when I was told two hours a day on games and I would have to find something else to do. I did eventually, but that's for later on.
So back to school. I had tried to be a good boy and try and get the attention of Kate during Kindergarten and First grade. I stayed on the A or AB honor roll. Then second grade, I felt like I wasn't getting anywhere and I would abandon the idea of me and Kate getting together and I actually turned my attention to a girl in my class. Someone of a more classical beauty with glasses and hair as dark as the feathers on a raven, I knew She would not only be there for me as a friend, but hopefully someone more special than that. Now since I compared her hair to a Raven's feathers, I'm going to call her Raven. Raven and I were both very curious and intelligent for our age. We did classwork together if we were able to pick our own partners or she would be paired with one of her friends and I would try and do my work alone because I just felt that I could and be done with it. Then in the spring, that feeling of wanting to be alone would change thanks to a class project on Butterflies. Our teacher had ordered them as eggs and we would study them as they changed from larva to cacoon to butterfly a process which took two months. This was one of the first four man projects I would be a member of. Sadly, this would also be one of the last projects I would do with this group of friends. At the end of the term I would be awarded to my mother as part of the custody war and I would move the following Christmas. At the beginning of third grade, my dream of sharing a class with Kate was realized and I quickly realized how hurt and devestating heartbreak worked. I asked her to our first dance and she already had someone to go with. Granted, it was a group of girls, but I was still hurt. Then before the dance, a girl whom I basically bought's friendship was always asking me for my extra/snack money. I knew this whole time that I would be moving after Christmas, so I had to find a way to get her to stop asking me for money. I finally got an idea one day after hearing some of the older kids on the bus talking about the next dance being the Valentine's Day dance.
Just before the holiday, which would be the time of the move, I responded to her question with "I'll give you my money if you go to the Valentine's Day dance with me." Repulsed, she quickly turned me down and ran off to the gym. Then We moved.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone