I woke up like this.

Alright, I rarely post on Reddit, I prefer lurking along. Here is a wall of text/rant. I woke up and decided to write a letter. I didn't know to who, but here's my nagging thus far. Enjoy.

Hey Big Dawg,

Ok, for the first time maybe EVER, I am kind of happy I don't have a phone at the moment. It gives me the opportunity to type, instead of text/write, and I am a way better typer then I am writer...so this will be a good thing. <--- Does that even make sense?? Life is fucking awesome man, and I fucking hate life. Its a terrible spot to be in.. Like feeling guilty for being "upper/middle/lower ish white middle class"...I mean, I'm "blessed", or privileged, or whatever it is, but I am miserable 79.9% of my life if not more. It's not really fair of me. Theres like kids with NO SHOES on, and starving to DEATH, and I'm sitting here bitching... I hate it. But someone once told me that feelings are universal. Even though I am sad, the kid with no shoes on is just as sad....and can feel JUST as happy, if not MORE happy then me. Thats kinda neat..right??

I woke up covered in shit today. Literal dog shit. Like runny sick-dog shit..and for a split second I was super pissed off at my dog for making shit all over the couch we were sleeping on, but then I realized it wasn't his fault. It was mine. Now MOST of my friends at this point would retaliate with, "bro, quit beating yourself up so much", or somethin' like, "its not your fault man, youre too hard on yourself"

..i hate it when they do that... i hate my fuckin bad ass friends. fuck.

Beucase it IS my fault. 110%. How am I going to blame it on the dog??? I'M the one that cant afford his proper food at the moment/for the past cpl of months. My roommate accidently fed him in his kennel yesterday and my dog ate half the plastic bowl with his meal. (I know, feeding dogs in the kennel is a NO NO NO and this is another thing I beat myself up on) I'd love to say/should have said, "oh shit man i didnt know you fed him in the kennel! we really cant do that, he could choke or w/e", but i didnt say fucking shit last night as I was being lazy and catching up on 10+ years of Home Improvement episodes in 240p on YouTube. Tim Taylor grunts

Pathetic.

I really just want to bitch outloud/on Notepad about all my problems. I might just do that. Try to analyze it better. 'Cause daddys goin crazy.

My life has been a pretty much consistent downwards spiral since about 5th or 6th grade..

Mom and Dad used to woop my ass when I was disobedient. Not like punch and beat the shit out of me, leaving me with bruises, but I was a devil of a child, and I have no doubt they did whatever they had to to get the point across...

I guess back then I got attention from classmates/teachers/girls/rebellious crowd when I shared these stories of home life. Also my parents were going through a divorce at the time which ALSO put me on a different plane then 98% of my rich little white peers.

The court required my whole family to go to meetings, or counseling/therapy groups at least once a week for quite a long time, I really don't remember. What I DO remember is NOT wanting to be there, NOR did my older sister and "separated" parents." Ugh. Terrible.

I've been in and out of therapy/rehab/psych wards/juvie (never jail, thk christ) since around that time.

I woke up one morning late for school. I guess I slept through my alarm. I was in 5th grade. 11 years old.

Mom left a post it note on the door that said something along the lines of "you slept in, walk yo' ass to school." Fair enough, honestly. I lived only about a half mile away from school. It was 3rd period by the time I got to school, just to get an idea of time.

As I was headed towards class, I passed my neighbors house. We'll call them The Franklins.

Mr. and Mrs. Franklin had 3 kids, the eldest boy being my age. We were/are(?) best friends. Have been for 23 yrs now. We'll call him Ben.

Ben and I went to the same school and did pretty much everything together. Different scout troops, but that was it. He got his Eagle, I did not.

I recently asked him when the first time I asked him for help was. He amazed me by recalling a time when I "ran away" from home (maybe age 8 or 10), and hung out on my skateboard in the alley way behind our homes. I don't remember what EXACTLY I asked for, but he was there to help. And always has been. Without fail.

I hate my good friends.

Anyways, as I passed Ben's house, Ben's mom was in the front yard working on some sort of lawn/art project of hers. We'll call her Frida Franklin. Frida is a free spirit. Grew up rich, and married into family money as well (from my undersdtanding). She hasnt "worked" for more then a cpl of years in her life. Stay at home mom, and did a phenomenal job as well. Great lady.

She asked why I was not at school and I explained I slept in/past my alarm(s) and found a note from Mom telling me to walk to school. She offered to give me a ride, but knowing my mom and her spidey senses, I insisted on walking as I was SURE mom would find out if Frida Franklin gave me a ride. She offered to walk with me. Ok, cool, why not.

When we get to school, I head to class with my note from the Office Lady (side note: i loved Mrs. Haynes. She believed I was sick EVERYTIME..muahaha..thus, mom had to leave work to come pick me up from school) I'm pretty sure Frida stayed behind and spoke to the Office Lady.

I guess Child Protective Services were called, and showed up to interview Mom at some point at our house (which sold at 700,xxx USD in a prominent area of Dallas, TX, just so you can get an idea of how AWFUL my life was. sarcasm

This was not good.

I mean, great for my image at school, but terrible for home life.

Divorce. CPS. Family dog dies. Moms sister dies. Dad moves out into apartment. I start smoking cigarettes, then beer, then weed. E'ry day.

Divorce was kinda fun, honestly. I feel sick about it now, but back then it was rare to meet a kid with divorced parents, especially in my community. There were a few others, but I think I was kid 3 out of 68ish. Two Christmas, two of every great holiday!

Dad travels a lot for work, so every other weekend and every Wednesday night was not a consistent schedule. Sometimes it would be a few weeks or a month or two before I got to go to dads apartment. Dad moved into a little tiny apartment in Deep Ellum, which was fucking awesome at the time. We were a stones throw away from Elm Street and surrounding night life/art life.

I continued to see therapist which I consistently quit attending our meetings. I remember sitting there with my fingers in my ears literally screaming "la la la la im not fucking listening to you!!!!!" I hated it.

There was a few month/ 1 yr period where I refused to eat solid food. I had a realization when I was sick with strep throat that I could potentially choke to death. I remember literally spitting my saliva into napkins because I feared swallowing and choking on it. What a mess. I lived off Ensure, Milk Shakes, Mashed Potatos, and Instant Carnation Breakfast for the better part of a year. I saw more Doctors. I consistently lost more weight.

This is a weird section of my life as I LOVE food. Who doesn't? I love cooking, eating, smelling, almost everythng about any food. It wasnt like me at all. Mom said I couldnt have those Jnco Blue Jeans (ew, remember those?) until I could actuall fit 'em on my skinny ass. Flame Boy! Gah..

When I finally came to my senses, I remember swallowing a taco shell for the first time in WAYY too long. I ate like 30 lbs of Tacos that night, and called my Doctor saying that I had did it!! I was so proud. These are weird memories.

Yes, I got the fugly ass jeans. And rocked the fuck outta em, so fuck off.

I wasnt diagnosed until about 15 years later. Bi-Polar, Anxiety, and ADD.

When I hit High School, I was one of 2 people to go to DISD (Dallas Independent School District) AKA Public School. I just spent the last 5 years in a well to do private Episcopalian school. We had 1 black guy, 2 or 3 Asians, and 1 Hispanic who was there on a scholorship. Cause he was a bad ass.

This added more to my ego as the kid with the divorced parents was about to go to Public School with the all the black and mexican guys and gals.

By sophmore year of highschool I managed to get arrested on "school premises" with about 10 bucks worth of weed on me. Needless to say, they made an example out of my ass. Spent 2 weeks in juvie, and the following few months on house arrest. Since my parents were separated, and I was merely 15 years old, I had to have an ankle bracelet. For each home. So I had two big ass house monitors on my left and right ankles.

Luckily I found I could sit on my back patio at the house (dad was living in at this point) and smoke cigarettes without the Police being notified. This probably kept me sane a bit longer.

I spent the next two years on probation, frequently failing UAs for weed, codeine, heroin, PCP. (Apparently CCC will false positive for PCP)

I went to boot camp. More boot camp. More community service. More trips to Probation Officer. More fines.

It took rehab 2x before I could get off on the Judges verdict.

While on probation, I found I could still get high on heroin, and all sorts of lovely pills and still manage (sometimes) to pass my drug test. I was attending an alternative school in South Oak Cliff in Dallas when I failed my final test for heroin. I snorted a bunch of dope, took a sheet of CCC and proceeded to ride public transportation for 1.5 hours to school. I threw up all over everyone and everything, yet SOMEHOW made it to my classes, and passed out on my desk. Now, since this was the school they send you to when they give up on ya in your regular homeschool, it was filled with all sorts of fascinating people. White shirts: we were the guys there for drugs. Purple shirts: Fighting/Violence/Guns Green shirts: All of the above, but all Middle School students.

I learned how to smuggle drugs through all the checkpoints, and got my first hand in dealing narcotics. Heroin, codeine, everything for the dopefiends. I remember walking out of school with all the cash I had made that day under the insole in my shoe. Everyone must have thought I had a clubbed foot. Now I say ALL this money, but a few hundred bucks in 10s, 5s, and 1s is a fat little stack for a sophmore student to be carrying around. I hadn't even worked my first LEGAL job yet.

And so began my selling habits. I didnt understand why people were spending 20$ a day on grass. Why?? I plan on smoking today, tomorrow, and for weeks after, so why not buy in BULK and get the wholesale tag, and proceed to make your money back AND THEN SOME, and smoke a shit ton for free.. it was common sense really. There was only a handful of guys I knew that sold drugs, so it was easy to get together and plan our next gig. These were like minded individuals so dollar signs were really all we were interested in.

(The little bit of pot I was caught with at school was the last little bit left from my first big bag I had purchased with XMAS money from my Uncle. I was lucky they caught me with the shake, and not the 112gs it was. That is/was a felony at the time. I don't honestly know the current laws in TX, but I know it aint so forgiving.

Getting sent to rehab was a double edged soward. I really truly enjoyed it there, as it was therapeutic, and one of the best treatment facilities in America for adolescents. Hell, Dr. Phil sent a few kids there while I was enjoying my stay. It MUST be good!

My parents and peers addressed me as an alcoholic/drug addict for the first time. Once again, my sickness kinda welcomed this! Made me a little more radical, and inflated my ego even more. One thing I took away (out of many) was the importance of gratitude. Being grateful is hard to do. Especially when I am a spoilled little fuck and think my problems are the worst of anyones. (Note: when I say spoiled, I do not mean I was born with any sort of silver spoon up my ass. In fact, it was quite opposite. I had to work or sell dope for everything I had. My parents rarely gave me cash passed the age of 15. I rode my bike to school while all of my peers were driving imported BMWs, Audis, Mercedes, etc...

I didn't understand the impact of rehab at such an early age. Here I was, at 15 years old addressing myself as an alcoholic/addict before I spoke. I believed it at the time. Hell, I did drugs. The drinking thing? Not so much, but I learned it was all the same. A chemical is a chemical is a chemical, right?

Looking back on my first stay there (about 11 month inpatient) it now sickens me to see our group of kids visiting local AA/NA/CA meetings and hanging with the big boys. I mean strait felons and murderers on their last leash. These guys had lost EVERYTHING. Jobs, husbands, wifes, kids, teeth...... I said I related....but I didnt. I still dont.

I have never dealt with the issues that a lot of these guys were dealing with. If they drank or shot dope again, they were CONVINCED they WOULD DIE....i couldnt relate, but I said I did. That was wrong of me. How dare I!? Some punk ass little white kid in Texarkana talkin' bout all my 1st world issues...its wrong.

I am glad I went to treatment, but I think its a HEAVY HEAVY HEAVY load to put on a teenager.. I couldnt even buy my own smokes, let alone alcohol (legally) and I am calling myself a drunk....hell, mom and dad drink "responisbly" and they drank/drink more then me!! True.

Just yesterday I was ranting to my mother about life, and she mentioned going to meetings again. I told her I was down for a support group of some sort, but that it couldnt be 12 step based. I then asked her if she thought I was a alcoholic/drug addict. She said yes, which used to not offend me, but it did. I rebuttled with the whole, "you drink more then me! if you start calling yourself a alchy, so will i!"

I hate blaming my stupidity on Drugs and Alcohol. What a cop out.

I think the 12 steps are wonderful and I know it has saved many a peoples lives, but you gotta fully commit to them, and believe every step. Step one first, right? Ok, I am NOT powerless over drugs or alcohol. I had the power to wake up, go to work, and wait 2 weeks for a pay check to get said weed 'n beer. Came to believe a power greater then ourselves could restore us to sanity...FAIL. I am openly agnostic, but am leaning more towards atheist now. I am still trying to figure it out, and dont see a solution anytime soon....what I do believe in is the Sun. Thats my power. It show up, every day, and doesnt ask for money, or charity. In fact, it grows my weed, my food, my hopps, and Vita D is some good shit. Get on it.

FML. Typing is still better then writing. Because obviously I am lengthy and cannot keep my wrist from cramping as I write.

tl;dr

You should have read it.