ARE YOU HAPPY WITH HOW YOUR LIFE HAS TURNED OUT?

post=212058
Funny how you should ask this question, I was just thinking on this during one of my 2am strolls for coffee.

I have occasionally come to forums for help on certain infantile matters, mainly GW; making occasional whining blurbs about my insane father, but I don't think I've ever gone into full detail like you have.

Well Tau, at the very least you keep your head held high, and are at least trying to get back on track. That's more than I can say for so many people I see and work with.

Where to begin... Hm...

To start simply: No. I am not happy, but I am far from the inescapable void. If anything, these last few years in solitude granted to me by my brother's marriage have given me time to learn about myself. Really: I just have a great deal of trouble dealing with average things a great deal of people take for granted.

For example; smiling, expression emotion face to face, eye contact, idle chatter... Basic social behaviors that's second nature to most people. On some days, certain acts are far harder than others for no discernible reason. It's a bit of a ride to be sure. On some days; I can be fairly normal. It's easy to talk and hold a conversation; I enjoy things and everything is normal... or as normal as things get for me anyway. Then there's days when I can barely keep an interest in anything. I also find myself incredibly hungry during these occasions... But I can't and won't blame all of my problems on these strange days I have.

I'm not fully sure why I became like this, the experiences that forge who we are is usually too complex to explain; but I'll share with everyone what I think had a great impact on my character... Starting with my earliest memories.

Yes, my first memory involves me standing in a crib. I was very hungry and there was a plate of sloppy spaghetti sitting in front of me. My father, sat there with his arms folded staring at me. Eventually, I climbed out of the crib and started eating. Apparently, this is how my father taught me how to eat on my own.

My next significant memory comes a bit later... Though it's a bit hazy. Me, my brother and my mother were out grocery shopping. We return home and my father becomes violently enraged that my mother accidentally picked up a diet soda / snack instead of normal. Hits were had. Things kind of get weird after that and I can't remember the correct sequence of events. My mother separated from my father at one point, not sure if it was caused by the mentioned incident. All I remember is sitting in the living room, bored with my brother asking about what's happening with mom and dad. He explained about separation and all that sort of thing. During this lazy afternoon they were out renewing their marriage or something along those lines.

Here's a good one that just came to me. I remember the details too. One day I went to doctors for a check up. The train ride was long and exhausting but the actual wait was short for once. We make it in and when I make it in to the doctor's office; for some reason I can't remember - I didn't breath in and out when he asked me... or something like that. My father stormed out of my office, dragging me in his wake. At this point it was the afternoon, and the streets were crowded with businessmen and school children alike. As he dragged me to the train station raining both verbal and physical abuse (in the form of kicking) people just walked by, paying no mind. Business as usual I guess.

My, this is getting a bit long. Oh well.

Not all of my memories are bitter though. I remember the day I was first introduced to the Nintendo by my older brother. It was a bitter winter morning, I had the chicken pox and I found myself bored and drawing on the 7 hecta-comb formed pox on the bottom of my foot when my brother poked me and showed me a game called "Double Dragon II" before he left for school. I had so much fun; that I was still playing when he returned. My older brother is probably the only true friend I have in this world.

Here's a collection of fragmented memories which probably explains why I have difficulty asking and accepting help from people. When I was in the fourth grade I asked my father for help with my math home work. After getting a division problem wrong several times he strangled me and slammed me onto the floor. Strangely, the strangling hurt more than the way he literally threw me onto the floor. It must have been the carpet. At school, it was frequently embarrassing to ask for help as someone who was painfully shy. On one such occasion, a cute girl was grudgingly forced to help me with some math problem. I feigned understanding of the subject just to end the humiliation. Ho HO! Women were/are sure repulsed by me.

Oh boy, that reminds me of every instance I class where we did the obligatory "GROUP EXERCISE" where you were forced into groups of 4/5 people. OR EVEN BETTER, where you were given the free choice to join any group you want; but since you were that freak nobody likes - you had to be PUT on a group by the teacher... publicly. Like the fat kid at dodge ball, only not fat.

My next experience comes much later; since I don't want to go over for the 50th time that instance where my father beat my brother so violently that he literally destroyed the room the assault happened in in the process - this was in high school.

My brother had gotten my father a dog for his birthday a few weeks prior... Though I can't say it worked out early on. My father was in the habit of beating our new beagle with a broomstick every time had an accident. One morning before school I got up and the little guy had an accident. His expressive eyes gazed at me with regret and he put his head down and wagged his tail nervously. I gently patted him on the head and let him do his business outside. It was about that time when my father woke up and asked "What's that smell? You took some of that cake for breakfast or something"?. "Y-Yes" I nervously replied, not giving a second thought to the blatantly transparent lie. He lumbered into the kitchen to find there was no cake; and that there was a small mess made by the dog over night. It was at this point when he pinned me to the wall and yelled "Where the hell is the cake?!". My mother, who was in the next room ran out and demanded "Put him down!". The sole instance when she actually stood up for us.

He then paused and put me down. Moments later he would exclaimed "We're getting rid of this dog! I'm tired of this shit! Tomorrow, I'm taking this fucking dog back to the pound!". The remarks, more than the confrontation itself filled me with a great deal of sadness the whole day. Everywhere I went, I saw pictures of happy animals; and I despaired at the thought of losing this wonderful little dog.

He later decided to keep the dog.

While I find it hard to smile and express myself face to face, I can always give an earnest and truthful smile to an animal. Dog, Cat, or otherwise.

That's enough of that though. I wasn't expecting this to run as long as it did; so I'll wrap this up as succinctly as I can. (Not very, in other words).

I'm 24 years old.

I'm working as a Scammer Resident Technician for Staples.

I still live with my parents.

I have a mountain of debt from a bogus college that gave me nothing in return.

I am not only a Virgin; but the last friendship I had with a women was in the third grade. I have never kissed a woman, nor have I held one's hand... Wait; actually that's not true. I was forced to hold a girl's hand in kindergarden once. My hand was so sweaty that the little girl had to get a tissue to wipe her hands clean of my filth... Sorry, almost went off there.

Things are shitty; but It's not hopeless... Not yet.

None of my loan payments are overdo, despite how terribly my job is I'm developing a reputation for having ironically good customer service and trouble shooting skills. I manage my money better than my parents; as I don't spend my entire tax refund on a television when I have hospitals calling to collect ER payments, and I've taken some really tiny baby steps into coming out of my shell in the form of subtlety* piggy backing off of my brothers alumni network. Things may get better... They might not; but I have a plan. If I'm still living with my parents at the age of 30; It would be a simple matter of disappearing one summer night and ending as a pile of blood stained giblets on the Staten Island transit system.

(* Probably not as subtle as I'd like but oh well!)

As a closing I'd just like to apologize to all those I may have alienated with past actions. There are quite a few people here I like; but have driven away with my usual behavior.

post=212089
I DO wish I learned how to play a musical instrument though.

Are you happy with how your life this thread has turned out?