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The first day of kindergarten was the start of my life spiraling downward. But lets start before that from what I can remember and obviously see in pictures.

Before that day I was happy, innocent, thin, not a care in the world, loved my mommy and daddy very much, loved everything very much. I was also, strangely, normal. I was normal, it just seems so strange. Looking at me now and then and going, "Wow." What 11 years of my almost 15 year lifespan has thrown down onto my shoulders is overwhelming most of the time, honestly.

Kindergarten. The word kindergarten pretty much deserves it's own sentence. It is both a verb and a noun to me. I was a happy, normal, innocent child that had never known verbal, physical, mental, or emotional abuse. Excited of my much anticipated future in an unknown world I remember my mom writing my name on my school supplies the first morning of the beginning of hell. She walked me to my class, saying goodbyes, I love you's, and good lucks. There was one problem though, I was late to school. It was mom's fault but it's ok. I was the last one there, and even though my last name came first alphabetically, I had to share with a girl who's last name started with an S. A sharing with an S. Seems impossible, right? Ciara Suggs was the first person to do both the mental and emotional abuse to me. Words honestly can't describe how horrific her actions were to me. Whatever happened to kindergartners being innocent, sweet, sensitive, and kind? I was. Yeah yeah yeah, whatever, I got the book bag behind hers, pencil box under hers. Whatever, no big deal. But I was the only one that had to share a cubbyhole with anyone. Why did it have to be her though? It doesn't even make sense, you know. An A sharing a cubbyhole with an S. Honestly, if the teacher had made me share a cubbyhole with anyone else in that classroom full of kids, I probably would me a lot different today. That was my first day of kindergarten, the second day I turned 5. But that was only the beginning.

Ok, so I manage to go on with life half normally; despite my coming home in tears everyday of my life. Weekends were my only escape from that torture. So the life of a 5 year old goes on. August, September, October, November, December. That's when it really started kicking it. Remember, my whole life spiraling downward. It technically started on Christmas eve though. Normal children would love Christmas eve, and I did. But only because I was too young to understand my mom's condition. She started puking up blood, in the bathroom on the toilet just puking up blood. I was in the next room watching Rudolf The Red-Nosed Reindeer. I loved that movie. I was wondering what was going on in the bathroom so I got up to go see. The site was scary to me, even though I didn't understand at the time, I was only 5.

The next part of my memory is in the Emergency Waiting Room the next day. To me, mamma's just going to the doctor and I'm just waiting to go home. I'm sitting in the Emergency Waiting Room with my aunt, uncle, and one of my brothers. I'm playing with my leapfrog while my aunt tells me to turn it down. I didn't really know how much I didn't understand at that age until I looked back. I was only 5.

My next memory is walking into the hospital room with my drunken dad and my aunt. All I see is mommy with a bunch of tubes in her everywhere. I was slightly scared. Was this even mommy? It turns out she has just barely survived Colon-Rectal Cancer. Remember, I was only 5.

My next memory is at my aunts house. I had been staying there until mommy came back, and I had been having some serious breathing issues. I was breathing in that medicine my doctor gave me for this machine and I breathe it in and it makes me better. I can still taste and smell it. It isn't disgusting, but it isn't pleasant. All it does is remind me of pain. I was asking when I would see mommy again, my aunt said soon. Don't the the conclusion that my aunt was comforting though. She wasn't at all. She didn't make me feel better at all, if anything she made me feel worse even though I still didn't understand. She didn't help me with the stresses and tears that came from school. Mommy did though. With all that stress, and hidden, unknown depression came eating. For a 5 year old, it's just too much to take. And that brings us to my next memory.

I had begun to gain weight, and a lot of it to be exact. My aunt and uncle that I was staying with didn't help either. They fixed my bowls you see, and they put too much on there for me to eat. They made me eat it. I was not allowed to throw it away or save it for later. So I ate it, and my stomach hurt a lot afterward too. I was only 5.

My next memory is at home with mamma, my brother, my dog Rocky, my aunt, and my drunk dad. I don't remember much from this except mamma looks like she's in bad shape. She goes in her room and colors. Aunt Nina leaves and so does that drunken a*****e I have to call my dad. So me and my brother sit in the living room and color until bedtime. I still didn't understand our situation, mamma's situation. I wasn't anywhere close to being close to understanding. 5 years old, remember?

The rest of my life kind of flashes by until third grade. I had to deal with everyday abuse from school, coming home in tears. Mom got better it seemed. She had a big scar on her belly though. My memory become a little more clear but still very vague.

We were inside when there was a knock on the door. It was a Mexican man wanting to know if the house next door was for rent. Before I know it, his whole family and friends are our neighbors in a house that is 5 yardsticks away. Nice people, nice man. But he started to show his ugly side very soon. I will not go into extreme detail. I'll just list some of the things he has done. Broken alcoholic beverage bottles frequently, one time it looked like he was killing my precious mommy; alcoholic man that does alcoholic s**t that puts mine and my mom's life in danger; getting his a** kicked by my brother; putting his hands around my mom's throat twice; locked me out of the house while he forces my mom to have sex with him. I thought I was abandoned forever, until my mom opened the door in her robe. She then kicked him out and told me what happened. He has broken my mom's car window; punctured all her car tires and my bike tire; passed out under our christmas tree drunk; laid in the middle of our driveway trying to stop us from leaving; punched my mom's bedroom window and almost killed himself doing so, all for a teddy bear that he had given her. He has also given us gifts, then taken them back from us. Stolen our things, tied two cute lambs to my Apple Tree then a day later they slaughter them on their porch which was 5 yardsticks from ours.

Peewee isn't the only culprit in my life spiraling downward. His nephews are also to blame. One word, molestation. It could be argued if it was molestation because they were so close to my age and I kind of wanted it but I didn't know the meaning of what was going on. I remember right after that, my mom and I had the "sex talk." I was 9.

Life goes on, I get fatter, my depression and low self-esteem become more prominent in my being. Everyday s**t from everyone at school, coming home in tears, don't forget that. It's 7th grade now, I'm 12. I had worked all summer to build most of my self-esteem back up. It worked. I even had a tan, I lost some weight, I could be what they call "kinda cute." With the newly attained self-esteem I had also gained happiness, I could be called a prep and my posture was really good. Not perfect, but good. Blake, Blake, Blake, Blake, Blake. Blake was all I could think of. I told my only friend about it and she asked him out. I honestly thought he would say yes, but no. Bye bye self-esteem, tan, posture, happiness, and "kinda cute." To go along with that, I had also been getting a lot of mean comments from the other drummers in band. Sexist comments saying girls can't drum and s**t like that. What's funny is there was another girl drummer but they didn't say s**t to her. I wonder if that was because they were scared they were gonna get their asses kicked by her, she was "hot" in their opinion, or because I was an easy target. Then I get comments from her, really threats too. Threatening to rip out all my hair, then when I start to cry she lies and said she was joking. Then I lie about why I was crying. Then later she try's to make me feel bad by saying she has bigger boobs than me. I personally didn't care. She was 16 and in 7th grade. Of course her boobs were bigger, and she was fatter than me. Then comes my Naruto obsession, and with that came the worst mistake I've made so far.

Wetpaint is a site where you make you're own sites. I found a Naruto fan-site on there. I hadn't been on there for a week and sasukerulz sends me a message. Bla bla bla we flirt, like each other more every day, bla bla bal. He gets a girlfriend, she moves away. Then I go for it, this time expecting no and never talking to me again. Yes? Wait, what? Did I read that right? That says "yeah" right? My first internet boyfriend. Awesome, right?

BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH while all that above was happening, Verena, the 16 year old in 7th grade made a real life boyfriend for me that I really didn't want. Yeah lets just not go into detail, I broke up, got back together, broke up again. Did I mention we never even shook hands. You can't even call him a boyfriend.

Anyway, back to Tyler. He was a nice boy and I really loved him. Until his brother on his account tricked me and pissed me off. I ruin his site, then the real Tyler has a mental breakdown because of me. Commits suicide because of me, but yet somehow comes back to life. I fell asleep to the lullaby of my crying. The whole time my heart was heavy. I was a murderer. You will never understand how light a heavy heart feels compared to a murderer heavy heart until you experience it like that. I was praying for him to live, live, live, live. I wake up around 1am with an odd feeling of heart. That's just probably because of how heavy my heart was earlier. I get on the computer, hes on? o_O Bla bla bla he went to hell, came back, yay. He was himself, normal, the boy I feel in love with. Only that changes very frequently.

Bla bla bla time passes, he gets worse over time. His friend even said he started cutting and tried to kill himself by lighting his pillow on fire and laying on it. The actions he showed me, how he talked to me, said my name, it wasn't him. I thought he was possessed. Maybe it was that demon that had walked toward him when he was in hell that he told me about. Either way, he was never himself except for one time he said my name. It was him, him! I asked yes, barely holding my excitement in. Then he was gone, the demon was back saying "never mind."

Depression overwhelmed my entire being. It was like my whole life's depression that was bottled up somehow, just had a catastrophic explosion. I was under water, honestly. I was suffocating, I even started cutting. It made the pain go away, it made me numb. I even looked up the definition for "emo," it said emotionally unstable. Yep, I was emo. Not the stereotypical emo, I was emotionally unstable.

The only thing about my being numb, I lost a lot of my memory of 7th grade for some reason. But I remember the bad parts. Like when I was drawing in "Social Studies" when we were doing nothing and I got in trouble. Not that it matters, she was always a b***h to me from day one of 7th grade. I gained a new friend, her mom hated me. Her mom never met me either.

Blah blah blah, life blah. It finally came to that day I was talking to Dominic, my online buddy, Tyler's ex best friend. Blah, long story very short. Tyler's friends come, beat me down even more, dragging me even deeper under the water into the endless abyss. Then Tyler comes, beats me down, wants sex, beats me down, no sex, beats me down worse than ever even imagined. I had learned how to swim that summer before 7th grade, but I couldn't swim out of this water. I was too far deep to even try. There was one time at the very end when it was him. The real Tyler came out long enough to ask me if I was ok. I lied and said yeah except for my cuts now bleeding and won't stop. He never replied back.

He had just broken up with me in such a brutal way. I wanted to die. I had become suicidal. Brittany my other new/old friend though I was taking an anti depression pill that backfired and made me suicidal. She didn't even know I can't swallow pills. I was stuck forever in that endless abyss of deep, dark, depression.

Bla bla bla, life, memories that are important, but not important to the topic of how my life is spiraling downward.

My best friend, wanted to run away. When her mom found out she lied and said it was my idea. Her mom hates me. She's never even had a conversation with me. Whatever my mom hates her and her mom. Her mom was very rude to my mom, just like my other friend who's mom hated me but had never met me is rude to me and my mom every day. We live next to her. My sketchbook totally disappeared out of my locked locker. The only person with the combo because we switched lockers is my "best friend." There are still conflicts to this day about that.

Blah, life, attempts at suicide failed, 8th grade.

I'm just going to sum it up. It's basically the conclusion of my story. Mind control, vampires apparently exist, blah, mental abuse, terrible friends, then new friends. Cat, Skeezy, Hannah, Danielle. Oh, then guess what? This is not the end of the story. My mamma's Colon-Rectal Cancer comes back in her liver. Awesome. Long story short, depression, 2 years recovery, she's still not over it; neither am I. I'm not recovered from everything. Especially now I almost committed suicide again the summer before 9th grade because Skeezy wouldn't talk to me. He's my reason to live. I bet this will be just another Tyler mistake. Whatever. I now understand, I could have lost my mom many more times than mentioned here. I now understand I could have died 4 times. I now understand never trust anyone named Skylar, Matt, Tyler, or any Mexican or alcoholic. Never have an internet boyfriend and never have a boyfriend you didn't even want in the first place. I got two experiences with that. I am almost out of the what was "endless abyss." It is now just a puddle that's barely ankle deep. Never trust anyone who says anything that is mythical is real. Like vampires for instance, haha. . . Never trust a whore either. Avoid any guy you know who's name is Tyler Gower. Lessons are learned, but dude, I can't forget this s**t. I want to, but I can't. I can't just move on. I'm a prisoner of the past. My past. My pain. My proof that my life is spiraling downward.