About Me

I can remember almost every important thing that has happened in my life since i was about three years of age. Some things i can actually remember from when i was younger, but not as clearly. My memory never ceases to amaze me. I had a prety decent childhood...I mean, i remember playing in the small creek that ran thru our yard, we used to go swimming in it, and we would spend day after day out there catching and killing frogs and snakes. (when i say "we" i am referring to my younger brother Michael and my older brother Aaron). We would go out in to the woods and build forts and set traps you know..just in case someone was trying to come on to our property. I remember having a frog circus one year. I remember making sail boats out of cucumber shells and sailing them down the river. Needless to say i remember a lot. But I think that the things i remember most vividly were the bad things that have happened to me. I remember being beaten so badly that i could barely move and i could not go to school for almost three weeks when i was in the first grade. I remember all of the horrible things that my step father did to me. I think that he has affected my life in so many bad ways. I know i shouldn't blame people, but i blame him for being one of the people most responsible for making me hate myself. I remember being sat down by him, when i was in kindergarten....being interrogated about having sex with my male classmates. I was in kindergarten mind you! I did not even know what sex was! To me boys were "yucky". I remember being forced to sit down and watch pornographical material on television when he was home on the nights my mother went to work. I remember a lot of things i am not going to bother discussing here. He was an alcoholic. A mean one at that. So was my mother, but she was always nicest to me when she was drinking. I remember laying in bed nearly every night, listening to them argue and listening to them throw things...listening to him beat her so badly i thought she would die. sometimes i am surprised any of us are still alive. Yet, she never divorced him. I cannot understand it. It got even worse when my step brother Aaron stopped coming to stay with us. I can't blame him really. He was tired of it. He was twelve years old and he knew that he couldn't live like that. But when he was around he always tried to protect my younger brother and I. he was a good brother. Anyway, I remember having my mother wake me up in the late hours of the night...i always knew what it ment...it ment she was leaving him again. Yeah...ummm..ok..whatever. We would always have to go back. I moved around my entire life. I dont remember staying in one house for more than maybe two years. So, i never really bothered to make friends. I was ashamed to have friends anyway. I was ashamed to have them see my family and my life. I became somewhat of a loner. I was quiet and withdrawn. I grew to hate people. To me, people did nothing but hurt eachother. And i wanted no part in it. When i was about five years old i began to start writing.. I remember my first story. I called it "Paco the donkey:" i was very proud of it. and somehow, when i finished it, i knew that writing was something that i wanted to do everyday for the rest of my life. From that day i had always dreamed of becoming famous. Yes thats right, a famous writer. Of course, eventually when i got older, i realized that it's quite unlikely that it will ever happen. So now i just write to keep myself from going insane. For me, writing is my prozac. well, sometimes, other times writing just helps my feelings come out and it makes me more depressed or sad or whatever i may be....don't get me wrong..i have moments that i am happy; but lately they have been quite few....but i do have them. Anyway...i guess i have talked long enough. most of you have probably stopped reading by now anyway, but i know there has to be someone who will finish reading this!


	The Realm Of The Cynical_Insomniac \| home About Me \| Miscellaneous \| My More Darker Poetry \| Poetry \| On A Lighter Note \| So What Exactly Goes Thru My Head Sometimes \| A Story I Have Written.... \| Favorite Links Who Is The Cynical Insomniac ??? Ok...let me first say that what you are about to read Kind of sucks. In the following paragraphs, I am explaining the things that I explain because I think that it gives some decent insight about who I am as well as why I am the way that I am. So, please don't think any differently. My name is Melissa. I was born on a cold, dark November night in 1979. I was born in the middle of a snowstorm, I guess that you could say it was a sign. A sign of the dark coldness that was yet to come in my life. I can remember almost every important thing that has happened in my life since i was about three years of age. Some things i can actually remember from when i was younger, but not as clearly. My memory never ceases to amaze me. I had a prety decent childhood...I mean, i remember playing in the small creek that ran thru our yard, we used to go swimming in it, and we would spend day after day out there catching and killing frogs and snakes. (when i say "we" i am referring to my younger brother Michael and my older brother Aaron). We would go out in to the woods and build forts and set traps you know..just in case someone was trying to come on to our property. I remember having a frog circus one year. I remember making sail boats out of cucumber shells and sailing them down the river. Needless to say i remember a lot. But I think that the things i remember most vividly were the bad things that have happened to me. I remember being beaten so badly that i could barely move and i could not go to school for almost three weeks when i was in the first grade. I remember all of the horrible things that my step father did to me. I think that he has affected my life in so many bad ways. I know i shouldn't blame people, but i blame him for being one of the people most responsible for making me hate myself. I remember being sat down by him, when i was in kindergarten....being interrogated about having sex with my male classmates. I was in kindergarten mind you! I did not even know what sex was! To me boys were "yucky". I remember being forced to sit down and watch pornographical material on television when he was home on the nights my mother went to work. I remember a lot of things i am not going to bother discussing here. He was an alcoholic. A mean one at that. So was my mother, but she was always nicest to me when she was drinking. I remember laying in bed nearly every night, listening to them argue and listening to them throw things...listening to him beat her so badly i thought she would die. sometimes i am surprised any of us are still alive. Yet, she never divorced him. I cannot understand it. It got even worse when my step brother Aaron stopped coming to stay with us. I can't blame him really. He was tired of it. He was twelve years old and he knew that he couldn't live like that. But when he was around he always tried to protect my younger brother and I. he was a good brother. Anyway, I remember having my mother wake me up in the late hours of the night...i always knew what it ment...it ment she was leaving him again. Yeah...ummm..ok..whatever. We would always have to go back. I moved around my entire life. I dont remember staying in one house for more than maybe two years. So, i never really bothered to make friends. I was ashamed to have friends anyway. I was ashamed to have them see my family and my life. I became somewhat of a loner. I was quiet and withdrawn. I grew to hate people. To me, people did nothing but hurt eachother. And i wanted no part in it. When i was about five years old i began to start writing.. I remember my first story. I called it "Paco the donkey:" i was very proud of it. and somehow, when i finished it, i knew that writing was something that i wanted to do everyday for the rest of my life. From that day i had always dreamed of becoming famous. Yes thats right, a famous writer. Of course, eventually when i got older, i realized that it's quite unlikely that it will ever happen. So now i just write to keep myself from going insane. For me, writing is my prozac. well, sometimes, other times writing just helps my feelings come out and it makes me more depressed or sad or whatever i may be....don't get me wrong..i have moments that i am happy; but lately they have been quite few....but i do have them. Anyway...i guess i have talked long enough. most of you have probably stopped reading by now anyway, but i know there has to be someone who will finish reading this!