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For the past two years, since I got out of high school, I've been trying to get my mind back. I've been put through more mental abuse than any one person should be allowed to survive, because frankly half the time I want to die simply out of convenience. For over 15 years (excluding the 3 or so that I wasn't technically conscious) I didn't know what happiness was, my entire life was just varying shades of pain and self-hatred. I became a sociopath out of sheer survival instinct by the time I was 9, around 10-11 I was a full fledged insomniac, getting about 1-2 hours of sleep a night simply because night was the only time I had to myself, where nobody could hurt me. I've been addicted to alcohol, marijuana, and crack. I have almost 100 deep, self-inflicted scars from the tip of a pair of scissors that I sharpened with a rock, so that it kind of hooks in slightly. Almost microscopically, so that it still took about half an hour to make a cut 2 inches long bleed all the way through. My memory is so shot that I genuinely have trouble remembering anything past a few months ago, aside from blurry images and vague emotions. I could have been a prodigy. I could have done so much for the world, and I've been reduced to this broken thing that can't even leave my room some mornings. Well I say morning, I wake up around 2pm earliest. But I am slowly, against all odds and my own will, recovering. I'm not even sure who I am anymore, I have no true sense of identity considering I lived without one for so long. But if I was strong enough to make it through all that other shit, then I must have the ability to remember what it's like to be sane, normal, rational. Hopefully.
