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Array ( [sid] => 36135 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => The Story of my Life [time] => 2004-02-24 15:40:57 [hometext] => Remember me [bodytext] => If I look back for a point when I started hating the world and myself I would have to say kindergarten takes the cake. I remember that I was so excited to go to school and make friends but when I got there I only met enemies. None of the other kids would let me sit at their table because I was fat. I never understood why it was such a bad thing to be fat. Was it some kind of a disease that all the other kids would get if they sat by me?

The same thing happened the following years all the way through grade school. Sometimes I wondered if the kids at school even knew my real name or if they thought it was actually “Fatty.” I could never figure out why my parents hadn’t just named me Piggy, Porky, Chubby, or something like that because when I was growing up my parents thought those names fit me better. My parents were so embarrassed by the fact that I was fat they started putting me on diets when I was eight. They spent years making me try every diet that was out there, from weight watchers and slim fast to every miracle diet pill on the market.

By the time I reached junior high I was so desperate to have friends that I decided I was going to do anything to get them even if it meant sacrificing the morals that I had grown up with. I met this wonderful group of folks who, like me, were outcasts. They were the partiers and stoners, things that didn’t quite fit my moral standards, but they welcomed me into their group despite the fact that I was fat. For the first time in my life I felt accepted, but I still didn’t feel like I could be myself. I wanted to be like them because I thought they were cool and had friends. I tried to dress and act like them and I changed my personality traits to match theirs. I tried pot and I didn’t like it, but I did it anyways. I loved the pot and then I went to pills. I would take anything that I could find, anything to get that high, because even though I hated the drugs I needed them to fill the void in my life and escape the world that I now lived in.

When I came to Rogers my freshman year I was so depressed and didn’t know what to do. I was sick all the time from the drugs and had convinced myself that I was going to hell even though I didn’t even know if there was a hell. I couldn’t handle it anymore so I came to the conclusion that to make it all go away I was going to kill myself. I had everything planned. My locker was empty, my room was spotless, I had the letter written, and I knew how I was going to do it. I had my suicide planned for a particular evening when my parents would be at school or work. I would just tell them that I wasn’t feeling well, stay home, take a bottle of prescription pain killers, and go to sleep.

I got involved in Drama at school and found out that I love the technical side of theatre but I didn’t find what I needed. I met this guy who was the kindest sweetest person that I had ever met. I would remember that when I would walk into drama with a frown on my face he would always ask me what was wrong. And try to cheer me up even though we would fight all the time I would always open up to him.

I remember my junior year that one night it was early November and I was starting to feel like I didn’t belong again and I really wanted to go home and commit suicide again. And then I seen him come out from the school and watched him start walking to his car when he offered me a ride home.. It was really cold out that night I didn’t have a coat on and my shoes where well dress shoes. That night it felt like I actually had somebody to care about me.

We talked the entire time we where in the car. And I really didn’t tell him that I wanted to kill myself he just knew. I was sitting there looking out the window and he could tell that I had something on my mind. He just looked at me and finally when we got to my house I told him thank you for the ride home and got out and went in the house. The next day at school he could tell that I was getting sadder and sadder. Then one day I was sitting down with one of my teachers Laptop and he seen that I was writing some poems and asked me to right him one.

I never really wanted to write him that poem but I ended up writing it for him. I never really gave it to him I had a friend of mine leave it on his car. When he came to find me I really didn'''t want to face him. And then he pulled me out in the hall at school and I really don't want to go out there but I did even though I knew what he was going to ask me. I stood there while he ask me why I wrote that poem for him and I told him the truth. I told him that it was because he was the only person who was nice to me when we where in the school play. He told me that it meant alot to him.

The last time that I saw him was right before he left and moved to Phillie I wish every single day that I can see him again. But I know that I can't because he has moved away so far away that I can't even talk to him on the phone.
[comments] => 4 [counter] => 257 [topic] => 31 [informant] => lildrama04 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry )
The Story of my Life

Contributed by lildrama04 on Tuesday, 24th February 2004 @ 03:40:57 PM in AEST
Topic: StoryPoetry



If I look back for a point when I started hating the world and myself I would have to say kindergarten takes the cake. I remember that I was so excited to go to school and make friends but when I got there I only met enemies. None of the other kids would let me sit at their table because I was fat. I never understood why it was such a bad thing to be fat. Was it some kind of a disease that all the other kids would get if they sat by me?

The same thing happened the following years all the way through grade school. Sometimes I wondered if the kids at school even knew my real name or if they thought it was actually “Fatty.” I could never figure out why my parents hadn’t just named me Piggy, Porky, Chubby, or something like that because when I was growing up my parents thought those names fit me better. My parents were so embarrassed by the fact that I was fat they started putting me on diets when I was eight. They spent years making me try every diet that was out there, from weight watchers and slim fast to every miracle diet pill on the market.

By the time I reached junior high I was so desperate to have friends that I decided I was going to do anything to get them even if it meant sacrificing the morals that I had grown up with. I met this wonderful group of folks who, like me, were outcasts. They were the partiers and stoners, things that didn’t quite fit my moral standards, but they welcomed me into their group despite the fact that I was fat. For the first time in my life I felt accepted, but I still didn’t feel like I could be myself. I wanted to be like them because I thought they were cool and had friends. I tried to dress and act like them and I changed my personality traits to match theirs. I tried pot and I didn’t like it, but I did it anyways. I loved the pot and then I went to pills. I would take anything that I could find, anything to get that high, because even though I hated the drugs I needed them to fill the void in my life and escape the world that I now lived in.

When I came to Rogers my freshman year I was so depressed and didn’t know what to do. I was sick all the time from the drugs and had convinced myself that I was going to hell even though I didn’t even know if there was a hell. I couldn’t handle it anymore so I came to the conclusion that to make it all go away I was going to kill myself. I had everything planned. My locker was empty, my room was spotless, I had the letter written, and I knew how I was going to do it. I had my suicide planned for a particular evening when my parents would be at school or work. I would just tell them that I wasn’t feeling well, stay home, take a bottle of prescription pain killers, and go to sleep.

I got involved in Drama at school and found out that I love the technical side of theatre but I didn’t find what I needed. I met this guy who was the kindest sweetest person that I had ever met. I would remember that when I would walk into drama with a frown on my face he would always ask me what was wrong. And try to cheer me up even though we would fight all the time I would always open up to him.

I remember my junior year that one night it was early November and I was starting to feel like I didn’t belong again and I really wanted to go home and commit suicide again. And then I seen him come out from the school and watched him start walking to his car when he offered me a ride home.. It was really cold out that night I didn’t have a coat on and my shoes where well dress shoes. That night it felt like I actually had somebody to care about me.

We talked the entire time we where in the car. And I really didn’t tell him that I wanted to kill myself he just knew. I was sitting there looking out the window and he could tell that I had something on my mind. He just looked at me and finally when we got to my house I told him thank you for the ride home and got out and went in the house. The next day at school he could tell that I was getting sadder and sadder. Then one day I was sitting down with one of my teachers Laptop and he seen that I was writing some poems and asked me to right him one.

I never really wanted to write him that poem but I ended up writing it for him. I never really gave it to him I had a friend of mine leave it on his car. When he came to find me I really didn'''t want to face him. And then he pulled me out in the hall at school and I really don't want to go out there but I did even though I knew what he was going to ask me. I stood there while he ask me why I wrote that poem for him and I told him the truth. I told him that it was because he was the only person who was nice to me when we where in the school play. He told me that it meant alot to him.

The last time that I saw him was right before he left and moved to Phillie I wish every single day that I can see him again. But I know that I can't because he has moved away so far away that I can't even talk to him on the phone.




Copyright © lildrama04 ... [ 2004-02-24 15:40:57]
(Date/Time posted on site)





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Re: The Story of my Life (User Rating: 1 )
by lil_angel on Tuesday, 24th February 2004 @ 04:45:54 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
This is really good, sad, moving, and encouraging, but really good!


Re: The Story of my Life (User Rating: 1 )
by Jenni_Kalicharan on Tuesday, 24th February 2004 @ 04:52:42 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
This is so sad..I hope some day soon you two get together again....What about the internet? can't you keep in touch thru this?
Good write...
Jenni


Re: The Story of my Life (User Rating: 1 )
by lildrama04 on Wednesday, 25th February 2004 @ 05:49:22 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
If you have read this where it says I did pot but I didn't like it. It's supposed to say I did it and I like it. sorry if I confused anyone on it.


Re: The Story of my Life (User Rating: 1 )
by norticus on Friday, 27th February 2004 @ 10:44:09 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
Hey Lil Missy Drama poo, this is a good and interesting essay. I wonder if you would consider turning it into a short story. I think the content really captures what a lot of kids feel like growing up. You could write whole stories about each paragraph. Anyway, maybe you can tell, but I liked this - so I give it a 4.6 on the Nortiscale.
norticus




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