It all started with "the list." Let's see how it went.

I grew up with an alcoholic mother and narcotic father, both who abused me for many years, physically, verbally, and such. My favourite story to tell, just for shock factor, is the one about getting a baseball to the small of my back, falling forward, and smashing my head through the glass door in the basement. It was a wonder I didn't die, from the baseball bat to the back, or from the amount of blood seeping from my face/head. Another thing my parents exuded was hate. "I hate you." "I never wanted kids." "You're the worst daughter alive." "I hope you die." "I'll throw you into traffic if you do that again." And such.

My peers were just as bad. I was Irish. Irish living in a Polish town. Not so cool. I had a few friends here and there, but they all eventually left me. I was the oddball out, after all. Some friends moved, some friends got new friends, some just stopped talking to me at all. But what I hated the most was the rumours, the words they screamed at me, and the fights. I can't recall how many times I got my ass kicked until I started fighting back because, honestly, it was a lot. And nobody did a thing about it. I was being broken down by these kids, torn apart on so many levels. They didn't care, didn't know, didn't understand.

Next on the list was death. Death of my two friends, Katie and Annie in 2002.

Katie decided to kill herself on a date that no one would ever forget: February 2nd, 2002. She killed herself due to extreme troubles at home- abusive and alcohol father, abusive brothers-, low self-esteem, depression, and such. She also took her life for another reason. She loved someone who didn't love her back in that way. It was me. The last thing I said to her was something I regret, in a way. Then again, I didn't want to lie, but back then I didn't know any better. Maybe I should have lied. She called me up and told me that she loved me. She asked me if I'd ever be with her, if I'd ever love her "like that." And I stupidly responded with something like "No, darling. I'll never love you 'like that,' but I will always love you like this. I love you, Katie." She hung up. And then she killed herself.

Annie committed suicide because of many of the same reasons at Katie- low self esteem, depression, eating disorder, abusive mother, abusive older brother, sexually abusive uncle- but she also killed herself because of Katie dying. She couldn't take it anymore. She and Katie were extremely close, and Annie was basically only alive because Katie gave her the will to do so.

I was in the hospital when they both died. I was there to see them cart an already dead Katie past me through big doors. I was there to see Annie's blood all over the place, and the medics trying to revive her as they, too, rushed her past the doors. And the entire time I was in the corner, bawling my eyes out.

After death comes sexual abuse. First time was sixth grade graduation night. Next was with my boyfriend at the time, in his basement. He just wanted to "give it a try." Third time was at a party with one of my brother's friends. This was the summer of 2003.

August 14th, 2003, I moved here. I stayed in touch with old friends, continuing to go down there to hang out and basically drink my sorrows away.

My mother moved in with Tony, her boyfriend. My father cleaned up his act and eventually got married in 2005 or 2006 to a woman with four kids that all hate my guts and call me "the worst daughter ever." Tony was abusive, to my brother, my mother, and I, but not my sister. Lucky duck. He and mom stayed together for a long while. She was just too scared to do anything about him.

During the three years that I drank (from 2003 or 2002 until about 2006, technically) I also dated quite a few people.

First was Collin, for three days. He cheated on me after three days. Ridiculous.

Next was Mark Minkler. He was the one that raped me. That lasted not even 2 months.

Next was Adam. We dated, on and off, for three years. Yea... He was extremely abusive and cheated on me multiple times. But for some reason I went back to him, and continued to take him back into my life. I eventually told him to go fuck himself.

Sometime through 2003 and 2004, I also dated three girls. Katie (not the same as above, of course), some girl which I actually forget the name of, and Leona. Katie lasted a month, then she moved. The next girl, who I feel soooo bad for because I forget her name, I dated two months. Then she moved away. Next was Leona. Three months and one of the sweetest girls I've known, to this day. We both moved away, though, far away, and so we broke it off.

I then dated Michael, for two weeks, broke up with him, then dated him again for another few weeks. Why? Because his sister, who was my age, asked me to date him. "Pity dating" is what we called it. After Michael, I dated Fil/Alex. I never kissed him (nor did I to Michael, either). He turned out to be Gay later on in life, and now we are really good friends, Fil and I. We had a short-lived relationship anyway. I forget how long. This is also when I lost Amy, Tor, and Baklava as friends for the second half of the year. My mum kept telling me we were gonna move, which I kept telling them, and they, in turn, started to get mad at me for "lying" when really it was my mother who was lying. We got in a huge fight, and stopped talking altogether until 2006.

Suddenly, though, things changed. I learned about laws. And in February of 2006, the physical abuse stopped- the other types of abuse from my parents (verbal, emotional, and such) continued, but I was mainly focused on the physical abuse finally stopping.

As soon as my bruises faded, I started to wear normal clothes. I took off my sweatshirts and wasn't afraid to show myself off a bit. I was pale as hell, and still am, but I didn't care.

By this time, I had also (somewhere in there, I forget where/when) taken drugs twice. Once was some random pills my friend gave me and told me to "Give 'em a try." Bad idea. Next was when I took a bunch of pills and pretty much overdosed minus the whole dying deal. Again, bad idea.

April of 2006, I started dating Jon. I had known him since about the beginning of the school year and, slowly but surely, he helped me to stop drinking. I also stopped going to see my father, who was abusive still but minus the drugs. Plus, I became friends with Amy, Baklava, and Tor again.

The Summer Program was in July. It really opened my eyes to the world around me. Really changed my life, and for the better, I'd say. I can't begin to explain the influence it had upon me. I realized how stupid I'd been and that even little decisions I made mattered.

I guess I didn't get the full message of TI, because I continued to assume an abusive relationship with Jonathan until September of 2007, when we broke up officially. It wasn't that bad, but the head games he played, and the physical and other abuse that he evoked at certain points..well..I'm surprised I stayed with him. I guess I was just stubborn? Or stupid. Either one works.

About Jon (this is the god honest truth, right here): We had a lot of good times, but we also had a lot of times that I just shudder to think of. Especially the sex. It could be fine some days, but other days it made me just want to cry the way he treated me. I can't really go into detail, or, rather, I don't want to do so, so publicly, and thus I shall remain mostly quiet on that.

Tony got kicked out in 2006, and died sometime in 2007. Jon and I continued to "stay in relations" after our actual relationship had ended, and even though he had (and still has) a long-term girlfriend. We stopped that before 2007 ended, I'm just not certain of the date, but I do know it was after the whole "pregnancy scare" deal. Long story there and I think only (he) knows.

I started dating Mark V then. For not even a month we lasted, until, for some reason, we broke up. About a month later, we started dating again. For two whole months. Then we broke up again due to me "cheating" on him, which was false. One of those times, I was raped and he freaked out about that. I forget if it was the first or second time.

Another rape in 2008. Don't need to go into detail about that or who it was with.

Mum is drinking a lot now, and struggling to pay the bills. She's suicidal and depressed most days of her life.
My Nina and Betsy both just passed away.
My brother is still working the night shift.
My sister is as cynical, rude, bitchy, and depressed as ever.
I'm going to college in August, or so I'm telling everybody. I'm not actually sure if I can take the pressure, but I'll at least give it a try. I'm not entirely sure about (him) and I, so that's a tid bid confusing, but my motto will remain to be "Whatever happens, happens." I have some really awesome friends, though they can get on my nerves sometime. I plan to open a restaurant someday with my bff, Tor, who will be going to school to get her Restaurant Management degree at NECI, and that is one dream I really, really hope comes true.

Now I'm just trying to get used to being back in school for this one last month and trying to find help because I clearly have problems that I need to work on. I'm terrified of going to college because if I break down in high school, then what will I do when I'm in college? I know I can do it if I try hard enough, but what if I'm suddenly not emotionally ready anymore? I'm just so scared of freaking out in the middle of a big college class, or freaking out over a big term paper, or something stupid. I know I hate conformist things, and all those standardized tests at school and all that other bullshit and I'm just damn afraid to put myself in college,where I know I will hate pretty much every bit of it. Plus, to top it off, I don't even know what I want to go to school for anymore.

I thought I had it all figured out, and then my Nina died and I just broke down inside. Now I'm falling apart and not even bothering to pick up the damn pieces. I'm just letting them fall, wondering if anyone will try and help me pick them up. And I'm laughing, too, because somebody is already trying to help me pick them up and put them back together, and I'm not sure if I'm ready for somebody to care so soon, and yet I want it and need it and love it so bad.

I'm just so scared that I'm going to fail, that I'm going to hurt someone, that I'm going to hurt myself.

But I'm starting to find something, someone, to live for again. I'm slowly begin to find myself another reason to put a smile on my face. Sure, it's hard at times, but I'm working really hard on finding a balance.

After all, I've got a reason to hold on to life now and I love it.