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 Post subject: Hey Everyone
PostPosted: Wed Oct 17, 2012 12:15 am 
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Joined: Mon Oct 08, 2012 12:28 am
Posts: 1
Hello there, I guess you can call me Scorpio Eyes. I'm not entirely comfortable using a more common internet handle or my real name, but I liked the sound of this one. The basics first, as I like to be a bit formal. I'm eighteen years old - nineteen exactly one month from the time of posting, male, and a resident of Illinois - in the United States, of course. Some things mean less to me, but if it helps, I'm a white guy and heterosexual - politically independent and Agnostic. Due to my desperation to understand myself, I've taken to personality tests - INFP according to the MBTI and type II on the Enneagram. Earlier this month I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder, but I've had an inkling for a while now. Other than this, I'm diagnosed Clinically Depressed, possessing Generalized Anxiety and Post Traumatic Stress Disorders.

Why am I here? I ruined my life. There's no real nice way to say it: I'm horrendously insecure, neurotic, hold an awful self-image, posses to emotional or impulse control under duress, and, of course, carry a laundry list of character defects. At the moment, I've got some tears drying off on my face and feel a very strong sense of unreasonable anger coursing through me. Neither of those are uncommon enough for me to be anything short of bored with the thought. To be honest, I've beem reading the tools on the site for a while - a friend of mine showed it to me recently. I honestly, truly, want to be a better person than I am and have become. Do I blame myself for the tragedy befallen me in my recent life? Of course I do. I noticed some others were doing it, so I might as well share my story as well.

This year has been... Hell for me. To say it's the worst year of my life is nothing short of an accomplishment. In chronological order, my father decided that "negligent and incompetent" were simply two adjectives requiring far too much effort on his end and decided to walk out on me, lie consistently, and genuinly up his D-Bag quotient by a significant margine. From there, the relationship with the girl I was in truly obsessive love with steadily fell apart - due to my rapidly cycling, unnaturally high and low, often random, and zealously passionate emotions, in no small part. Damn it... I still love her. Too bad that when I decided to cut off the relationship to save us both she decided that not only was I right - she's better off without me - but, I am no longer worth a damn in her eyes. It wasn't all my fault, we danced the masochism tango - which, as you know, takes two. That's not that important, though. Trying to juggle working forty hour weeks to support myself, finishing my last year of High School, coping with my sharply spiraling emotional state, managing my rapidly degenerating health, and struggling to remain at least within the confines of legal sanity while holding up the interpersonal relationships of my life, was just a bit too fucking much for me this spring. By May, I'd lost my mind completely, the girl I loved, all of my friends, and any real prospects I'd had. There was actually a three month period from May to July that I was actually dying due to my lapses in health. That, and I was in more pain than I ever imagined. Completely sapped of strength and energy, as well. After ragequitting and moving back to the town I'd grown up in, my body completely shut down and I was confined to a bed due to not being able to walk two steps without collapsing. I lost all the old friends I'd kept in touch with for various reasons, was officially disowned by my mother's family (it'd been an unspoken reality for a few years, but they decided to stop tip-toeing around it), oh - and I attempted suicide twice. As you can imagine, they were both unsuccessful. After running out of money, losing fifty pounds due to malnutrition, illness, and stress, completely compromising my emotional and mental states further than I ever thought possible, being throughly humbled and humiliated, and generally becoming the poster-boy for pathetic losers everywhere - I took a flight back to the town I'd come to call home for the past few years, with any sense of self-respect thrown in the toilet with those sleeping pills that made me hallucinate. Since August, I've been living with my grandmother - the only blood relative who gives a veritable damn about me - and grandfather (through marraige, but I like him more than my actual paternal grandfather). Until a few weeks ago, I'd been relying on a cane to walk, due to being so weak, and I've only just managed to cut off the Vicodin dependency I developed earlier this year. No more House jokes, I'm afraid. So, in recent days, ol' Scorpio Eyes has been working on finding doctors to manage his health, therapists and psychiatrists to help his mental wellbeing, and spends the vast majority of his time resting, because he still hasn't fully recovered. Is it the worst story any of you have ever heard? No, far from it, I imagine. I'm not much of a narrator, though. That, and I'm a fairly shallow and petty teenager. So, I can imagine if many of you will dismiss my suffering; you won't be the first. Actually, there's only a handful who do acknowledge it, much less validate it.

This year has seen my absolute worst in personality and experience. A few nights ago, I confided in a close friend of mine a rather somber truth I've come to. I'm a monster. Selfish, enslaved by my emotions, impulsive, and generally driven by the darkest sides of human nature. Just about everyone else who mattered to me left me. I ought to fall to my knees and thank whatever gods may be that anyone still cares about me. She assured me that I wasn't a monster and that there were reasons what happened happened, even if she did acknowledge I do hold a significant responsibility. It's a cute sentiment. Wrong, but cute. My life fell apart for a lot of reasons, most were my fault, but some were simply beyond my control. From the inability to control myself, I lost everything that mattered to me. My love, my friends, my family, the fragile peace of mind I was barely on to... all of it, because my emotions took control. It was like watching everything from the inside: I knew what was going on, but I simply couldn't change anything - no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't resist the impulses or suppress the feelings that were overwhelming me. Though I've always been an insomniac, not even medication can put me to sleep at night, anymore - the guilt keeps me up deep into the night.

Well, if Scorpio Eyes hates himself so much, why doesn't he just kill himself? Well, I tried that. Twice. I failed. Twice. As ironic as it is, I suck at dying. Yes, my will to live is fairly shaky right now, but when push comes to shove, I will fight to stay alive. Why? Because, I want to be proven wrong. I don't believe in anything anymore, I want to be wrong - I want the world to show me that things matter. The most important thing to me is becoming a healthier person. I need to be better and stronger - emotionally, physically, mentally, and spiritually. Why? Well, because you ask so many questions - I am sick of hurting the people I love. That is something I cannot abide. They are my friends, the little family I have left: I love them, I need them - I don't want them to leave me, I don't want them to suffer like I do. It's selfish, I know, but I do care. That's what this all boils down to - I want to be better for them. I want to be better for me, too - because I deserve it.

So, I'm trying to change and the process is difficult, but I'm willing to work on it. I hope you, my brothers and sisters, can help me - and perhaps, I - in turn - can help you.

"Long is the way, and hard, that out of Hell leads up to Light." - John Milton


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