Help please

[Ciggavelli]

That's very cool.

Did he make you laugh on some or you just

On a scale of 1-10? his stand up comedy you just witnessed?

He actually did make me laugh on some shyt, and he also cried a few times, making everything emotional for the crowd. He did an amazing job, actually. He did 8 hours of shyt, with no notes, no powerpoint slides, no nothing, AND he was funny and insightful. I'm gonna check some of his standup when I get out. I'm a fan now

He's in recovery too, so he knows his shyt about addition, the 12 steps, etc. I dunno how much my facility paid him for an 8 hour session, but shyt was real cool

 

[Ciggavelli]

More interested in OP's story. What's going on with you? You were born this way? Something tragic happened in your life to make you like this? What?

Well, sharing about our experiences is an important part of recovery at this facility, so I'll do it on the coli too, since you asked. Where to start?

I don't remember anything before 3rd grade, so who knows what happened there, but in 3rd grade, I remember being very depressed, was bullied for being a "teacher's pet" and had ups and downs in moods. Looking back, I think that was the start of my bi-polar condition. I turned into a cold person in 4th grade, due to that shyt. I would swear a lot, act tough, and people started to like me. Actually a lot of people started to like me. I had tons of friend (probably because I was edgy and that shyt is cool to 4th graders). shyt, I even was the president of my elementary school in 5th grade.

6th grade hit and shyt was very terrible for me in my home life. My Mom and Dad argued all of the time. My mom took her anger at my dad out on me. I would get yelled at for the littlest things, grounded for weeks at a time, and my dad just took her word for it. My mom was also drinking heavily at this time, and she was (and is) a mean drunk. My dad traveled a lot and was just too tired to argue with my mom about how she was treating me. I started to hate my mom and dad at this point. My sister, who is 2 years younger than me, felt the same way. My mom would beat her on the head with a brush, just because her hair was too tangled. Like, she's a 4th grader and she's getting abused for being a normal 4th grade girl. My mom was a legit bytch then. This made me withdraw a lot. I withdrew from friends, I stopped hanging out with certain people, I stopped doing school government shyt; I just stopped everything. Since I was grounded all the time, I learned that sleep can be a coping mechanism. I learned that if you sleep, you can escape the world. I still use that strategy today, but I realize now that, that was unhealthy. On the bright side, I was really good at baseball and made the all star team and all that. My dad was actually active with me, in regard to sports. In regard to other things though, he was an absent father

7th grade was pretty much a continuation of 6th grade. I found music in 6th grade though. I found Hot 97. I would sit in my basement, rocking in a rocking chair, and listening to golden-era hip-hop. shyt was amazing to me. This was the mid-90s. Wu-Tang, Mobb Deep, Tupac, Biggie, etc., etc. My brother, who is 8 years younger than me, would listen with me. My brother who is 27 now was listening to 2pac when 2pac was alive. Very few people his age can say that. I also really enjoyed video games and playing with my brother. We would beat Super Mario 3 over and over again, all while listening to Hot 97.

In 8th grade, my parents decided to get a divorce. We stayed in the same state for another year, but once that ended, I was shipped off to Texas to live with my grandparents. My mother was suicidal and a fukking a$$hole to me. My grandparents were bitter that their grown daughter and her kids were living with them during their retirement. My mom was drinking heavy then and constantly verbally abused me. She said shyt like, "I wish you were never born," and "you make me want to kill myself." I withdrew more and more. I was at a new school, in a new state, and since I was withdrawing so much, I had trouble making friends. I actually started to have panic attacks daily (true story) because I hated life so much. School was terrible, my home life was terrible. Everything was terrible. I got heavy into 2pac and Nas at this age. Both of them spoke to me in a way that was real. Pac felt my pain, Nas felt my pain. I can't tell you how many times I listened to Pac. Then Pac died, and it was a big blow to me. Luckily all his unreleased shyt was coming out in NYC, so I was able to get the unreleased shyt when I went back to visit my Dad. At this age, I also got very heavily into video games. I was old enough to start making money on my own (baby sitting, mowing yards, etc.) and I bought a PS1 and SNES (my Mom wouldn't let me get one before that because she thought video games were "evil" [fukking bytch ]). FF7 was my shyt. I literally cried when a certain character died (no spoilers here). I felt such a strong connection with that game. Additionally, I started to exhibit signs of OCD. I would constantly ruminate over shyt. I also used sleeping to get over how shytty my life was.

9th grade hit, and I was still living with my grandparents. I hated that shyt so much. My mom and grandparents literally verbally abused me every day. I had panic attacks constantly. I started to cut myself. I got in an argument with my grandma and said something that pissed my grandpa up so much, that he attacked me and tried to strangle me. I was young, in good shape (do to playing baseball), so I just pushed that fukker off me, ran to the phone and called 911. They saw this, and immediately made me hang up. I threatened to call again, but I didn't. Needless to say, my grandpa was very scared. I had my favorite dinner that night though . He never tried to physically abuse me again. However, he did sexually abuse me. I would be wearing a swimsuit and he would be like, "your penis should be in the middle, not to the side. Then he would put his hand in my suit and hold my penis and move it to the middle. At the time, I thought he was just trying to show me. When I got older, I realized that fukker was just trying to molest me

I started to become very suicidal at this point. I fukking hated life. Like fukking hated it. I shielded my brother from my mom and grandparents. At least I could protect him, so that kept me from wanting to kill myself. 10th grade hit, and I was at the point of like, I'm going to either kill myself or move in with my Dad back in CT. I didn't want to leave and have my brother experience all that I was experiencing. It was such a hard time. Like goddamn, shyt was so hard I decided killing myself would fukk my brother more than me leaving, so I decided to leave. It was such a hard decision and my grandma and mom tried very hard to make me stay. They said horrible shyt to me, told me I was abandoning my brother, etc. I remember that night clearly. It was probably one of the worst nights of my life. Anyway, I decided to leave. I moved in with my Dad, and left my bro and sister behind in TX.

In 11th grade, I was exhibiting very disturbing signs. I was cutting myself crazy, wore all black, fukking hated life, and thought shyt was terrible. Luckily, I met this girl Amie, who hated life as much as me. She tried to kill herself many times. We bonded over our pain, and fell in love. This was the first time I felt love like that in my entire life (well, minus my brother). shyt was amazing. I came out of my shell a bit then. I had a good job (I was making $12 an hour working as a junior accountant at a large grocery store. I had good friends then too. I was still cutting myself though. I also was in a FTW stage and started drinking, smoking cigs, and smoking weed). Anyway, I was still playing baseball and all that, but I started to hang out with the "bad kids." I felt a bond with them, as they experienced many of the same things as me. It was great. I've never been as happy as I was when I was in 11th and 12th grade. I loved a girl so much, had good friends, and was getting good grades (which is a common theme with me. If I didn't get straight As, I was doing something wrong. Bs were not acceptable.

In 12th grade, my lung collapsed. It then collapsed 12 more times after that. I eventually had to have surgery to cut out the scarred portion of my lung that would not heal. I almost died brehs. I was literally 15 minutes away from death the dr. said to me. I guess I got lucky then. I was in the hospital for 1 month, and missed school. My friends visited me and shyt, but not my mom or grandparents... They fukking hated me for leaving, but I was still their son/grandson. They didn't give a shyt at all. Well, this near-death experience made me really start to question what's "going on" with the world, existentially. What was god? What was the point of living? shyt like that.

...To Be Continued (I'm running out of internet time). I'll finish it up hopefully after breakfast. If not, then I will tonight.

 

[Methodical]

Well, sharing about our experiences is an important part of recovery at this facility, so I'll do it on the coli too, since you asked. Where to start?

I don't remember anything before 3rd grade, so who knows what happened there, but in 3rd grade, I remember being very depressed, was bullied for being a "teacher's pet" and had ups and downs in moods. Looking back, I think that was the start of my bi-polar condition. I turned into a cold person in 4th grade, due to that shyt. I would swear a lot, act tough, and people started to like me. Actually a lot of people started to like me. I had tons of friend (probably because I was edgy and that shyt is cool to 4th graders). shyt, I even was the president of my elementary school in 5th grade.

6th grade hit and shyt was very terrible for me in my home life. My Mom and Dad argued all of the time. My mom took her anger at my dad out on me. I would get yelled at for the littlest things, grounded for weeks at a time, and my dad just took her word for it. My mom was also drinking heavily at this time, and she was (and is) a mean drunk. My dad traveled a lot and was just too tired to argue with my mom about how she was treating me. I started to hate my mom and dad at this point. My sister, who is 2 years younger than me, felt the same way. My mom would beat her on the head with a brush, just because her hair was too tangled. Like, she's a 4th grader and she's getting abused for being a normal 4th grade girl. My mom was a legit bytch then. This made me withdraw a lot. I withdrew from friends, I stopped hanging out with certain people, I stopped doing school government shyt; I just stopped everything. Since I was grounded all the time, I learned that sleep can be a coping mechanism. I learned that if you sleep, you can escape the world. I still use that strategy today, but I realize now that, that was unhealthy. On the bright side, I was really good at baseball and made the all star team and all that. My dad was actually active with me, in regard to sports. In regard to other things though, he was an absent father

7th grade was pretty much a continuation of 6th grade. I found music in 6th grade though. I found Hot 97. I would sit in my basement, rocking in a rocking chair, and listening to golden-era hip-hop. shyt was amazing to me. This was the mid-90s. Wu-Tang, Mobb Deep, Tupac, Biggie, etc., etc. My brother, who is 8 years younger than me, would listen with me. My brother who is 27 now was listening to 2pac when 2pac was alive. Very few people his age can say that. I also really enjoyed video games and playing with my brother. We would beat Super Mario 3 over and over again, all while listening to Hot 97.

In 8th grade, my parents decided to get a divorce. We stayed in the same state for another year, but once that ended, I was shipped off to Texas to live with my grandparents. My mother was suicidal and a fukking a$$hole to me. My grandparents were bitter that their grown daughter and her kids were living with them during their retirement. My mom was drinking heavy then and constantly verbally abused me. She said shyt like, "I wish you were never born," and "you make me want to kill myself." I withdrew more and more. I was at a new school, in a new state, and since I was withdrawing so much, I had trouble making friends. I actually started to have panic attacks daily (true story) because I hated life so much. School was terrible, my home life was terrible. Everything was terrible. I got heavy into 2pac and Nas at this age. Both of them spoke to me in a way that was real. Pac felt my pain, Nas felt my pain. I can't tell you how many times I listened to Pac. Then Pac died, and it was a big blow to me. Luckily all his unreleased shyt was coming out in NYC, so I was able to get the unreleased shyt when I went back to visit my Dad. At this age, I also got very heavily into video games. I was old enough to start making money on my own (baby sitting, mowing yards, etc.) and I bought a PS1 and SNES (my Mom wouldn't let me get one before that because she thought video games were "evil" [fukking bytch ]). FF7 was my shyt. I literally cried when a certain character died (no spoilers here). I felt such a strong connection with that game. Additionally, I started to exhibit signs of OCD. I would constantly ruminate over shyt. I also used sleeping to get over how shytty my life was.

9th grade hit, and I was still living with my grandparents. I hated that shyt so much. My mom and grandparents literally verbally abused me every day. I had panic attacks constantly. I started to cut myself. I got in an argument with my grandma and said something that pissed my grandpa up so much, that he attacked me and tried to strangle me. I was young, in good shape (do to playing baseball), so I just pushed that fukker off me, ran to the phone and called 911. They saw this, and immediately made me hang up. I threatened to call again, but I didn't. Needless to say, my grandpa was very scared. I had my favorite dinner that night though . He never tried to physically abuse me again. However, he did sexually abuse me. I would be wearing a swimsuit and he would be like, "your penis should be in the middle, not to the side. Then he would put his hand in my suit and hold my penis and move it to the middle. At the time, I thought he was just trying to show me. When I got older, I realized that fukker was just trying to molest me

I started to become very suicidal at this point. I fukking hated life. Like fukking hated it. I shielded my brother from my mom and grandparents. At least I could protect him, so that kept me from wanting to kill myself. 10th grade hit, and I was at the point of like, I'm going to either kill myself or move in with my Dad back in CT. I didn't want to leave and have my brother experience all that I was experiencing. It was such a hard time. Like goddamn, shyt was so hard I decided killing myself would fukk my brother more than me leaving, so I decided to leave. It was such a hard decision and my grandma and mom tried very hard to make me stay. They said horrible shyt to me, told me I was abandoning my brother, etc. I remember that night clearly. It was probably one of the worst nights of my life. Anyway, I decided to leave. I moved in with my Dad, and left my bro and sister behind in TX.

In 11th grade, I was exhibiting very disturbing signs. I was cutting myself crazy, wore all black, fukking hated life, and thought shyt was terrible. Luckily, I met this girl Amie, who hated life as much as me. She tried to kill herself many times. We bonded over our pain, and fell in love. This was the first time I felt love like that in my entire life (well, minus my brother). shyt was amazing. I came out of my shell a bit then. I had a good job (I was making $12 an hour working as a junior accountant at a large grocery store. I had good friends then too. I was still cutting myself though. I also was in a FTW stage and started drinking, smoking cigs, and smoking weed). Anyway, I was still playing baseball and all that, but I started to hang out with the "bad kids." I felt a bond with them, as they experienced many of the same things as me. It was great. I've never been as happy as I was when I was in 11th and 12th grade. I loved a girl so much, had good friends, and was getting good grades (which is a common theme with me. If I didn't get straight As, I was doing something wrong. Bs were not acceptable.

In 12th grade, my lung collapsed. It then collapsed 12 more times after that. I eventually had to have surgery to cut out the scarred portion of my lung that would not heal. I almost died brehs. I was literally 15 minutes away from death the dr. said to me. I guess I got lucky then. I was in the hospital for 1 month, and missed school. My friends visited me and shyt, but not my mom or grandparents... They fukking hated me for leaving, but I was still their son/grandson. They didn't give a shyt at all. Well, this near-death experience made me really start to question what's "going on" with the world, existentially. What was god? What was the point of living? shyt like that.

...To Be Continued (I'm running out of internet time). I'll finish it up hopefully after breakfast. If not, then I will tonight.

Damn....

Stay strong my brother.

 

[Ciggavelli]

Well, my "to be continued" is gonna take a long time to write out. I'll try and write it tomorrow (the internet is only open at night from 5-6pm though ), but it might not happen until Monday morning, when the internet opens up from 6am-8am in the morning. Writing out that shyt before, while hard, was therapeutic. I hope some brehs on here can relate.

I'm being vulnerable as fukk right now, brehs. It's a good feeling actually

 

[Dirty Mcdrawz]

Well, my "to be continued" is gonna take a long time to write out. I'll try and write it tomorrow (the internet is only open at night from 5-6pm though ), but it might not happen until Monday morning, when the internet opens up from 6am-8am in the morning. Writing out that shyt before, while hard, was therapeutic. I hope some brehs on here can relate.

I'm being vulnerable as fukk right now, brehs. It's a good feeling actually

Stay strong breh

I used to sketch and keep a journal to help me through some tough times. I’ve actually been thinking about seeing a psychiatrist...

 

[chemicalsword]

to your continued determination to better yourself 1 day at a time...

 

[R=G]

Well, my "to be continued" is gonna take a long time to write out. I'll try and write it tomorrow (the internet is only open at night from 5-6pm though ), but it might not happen until Monday morning, when the internet opens up from 6am-8am in the morning. Writing out that shyt before, while hard, was therapeutic. I hope some brehs on here can relate.

I'm being vulnerable as fukk right now, brehs. It's a good feeling actually

Good deal. You're still progressing. That's what's it all about.

 

[Ciggavelli]

...Continued

Well, after my lung collapsed, I was fukked up. I was still in my fukk the world life, so a few months after the major surgery, I started smoking again . I got accepted to a bunch of colleges, as I had good grades, was on the honor roll, etc., etc. I decided to go to the University of Oklahoma, as they gave me the most money. I'm like, how bad could OK be? (As, you will see, I learned that lesson the hard way ). I finished 12th grade, was still with Amie at the time, and then spent the rest of the summer in CT. Amie was joining the Peace Corp. in Cali, and I was going to OK. We broke up. shyt, brehs, shyt was hard...very, very hard. I loved her so much, and still do (we talk to this day). That last day I saw here....man...goddamn. I remember specifically, she said, "don't say goodbye to me, just act like this is a normal day." I followed her instructions, gave her a kiss, and said see you later. I never felt so sad. I cried after we parted. That summer before college, I was heavy into opiates and weed. I developed a sort of addiction to pain pills at this time.

August hit, and I moved to Norman, OK to start school at OU. Um...if you've never been to OK, don't go. I moved from a suburb of NYC to a fukking crazy Baptist, conservative, country state. I had immediate culture shock. Like, what the fukk did I do? Anyway, shyt was cool until 9/11, which happens to be my birthday as well. shyt was fukked up. Other than that, I made friends rather quickly, as all the smokers smoked together, and we talked a bunch. I had long hair at this point, and my first day there, Peter (who I'm still friends with today) was like, you wanna smoke some weed? I was like hell yeah. I asked him how he knew I smoked weed. He said, "you have long hair, so I knew you smoked weed man." (it's true though... ).

I remember a few key points from my first year. One, I feel in love with Psychology. Two, I had an awkward convo with my dad one day (I stopped speaking to my mom ever since I left TX. This lasted for 6 years. fukk that bytch! ). One, needs no clarification, but two, was weird. My dad visited me like a few months after I started school. I said to him, "I have something to tell you." He goes, "is it that you are gay?" I was like, " no, I smoke cigarettes and wanted to tell you that, so I could go smoke one now." He was like, at least you're not gay. I could said I did heroin, and he wouldn't been fine with that . Anyway, that shyt was weird. Just because I have long hair, it doesn't mean I'm gay. shyt. Anyway, I was mad my Dad was thinking like that. It kinda fukked me up.

I didn't date anybody my first year of school, but year two, I met this girl, Jessica. She was gorgeous and came up to me first. She was cool for the first few months, but turned into a lunatic month 3 or 4. She was raped when she was younger, and was crazy. I did mushrooms with her, and she was crying, talking to her cat, and listening to Tori Amos. That was a weird trip, brehs (but that's another story). I didn't have a car at the time, so she would pick me up whenever we hung out. She'd get all crazy, and I'd be like, take me home. She wouldn't. She'd literally trap me at her house, until I was able to get a friend to pick me up. This happened like 5-6 times. I don't like feeling trapped, so I tried to break up with her. She wouldn't have it. She manipulated me, and got me to be with her again. Eventually, I caught her cheating on me, and I was like "bytch, you're caught. It's over." She never tried to contact me again. Thank god. Two things came about as a result of that. One, I bought a motorcycle (Ninja 500cc), and two, I fukking needed to never have a bytch do that to me again. I actually was purposefully celibate for 4 years after that.

Fast forward, undergrad was undergrad. I finished that shyt up with a Psychology degree. I knew a psych BA, wasn't enough, so I applied to grad schools. I eventually decided to go to the University of North Carolina at Charlotte (who had a great master's program in I/O psych). I moved out of horrible OK, and went to NC. shyt was so much better than OK. Like, so, so much better

The first year I was there was like a relief, and I excelled at writing and stats and shyt like that. I was not even thinking about dating at all that first year. The second year hit, and I met this beautiful, nice, caring, thoughtful girl (she was Ethiopian too, and we all know Ethiopians are the prettiest girls in the world ). Her name was Liya. She reminded me that not all girls are bad. She was crazy, don't get my wrong, but we would hold each other for hours and just talk. I needed that shyt. Thank you Liya . She left school, because one teacher was racist, and she tried to get him fired, but couldn't, and that shyt backfired on her (the teacher said that Africans had the lowest IQ of any race in the world. So, you know that obviously was not kosher to many of us.).

I was at a party and met this really drunk girl named Heather. She was fukked up. Like fukked up, fukked up. She was throwing up and shyt, and had no ride. I lived like a half mile away from the party, so I was like, we can go to my place. I invited her over and she threw up multiple times. She wanted to sleep over, so I let her. We were in the same bed, and started to make out and fool around. I was like, we can't have sex, as I don't have any condoms. The girl didn't care. She raped me brehs She got on top of me, grabbed my dikk, and put it in her. I was like, no, stop. She wouldn't, and was on top of me, so I couldn't easily pull out. She said she was on birth control and it was all good, but I was like "no." Anyway, after a minute or so of that, I gave in. I was like, shyt, I'm already in her, so I already got any STDs...fukk it. . Yo, her p*ssy was amazing . We had amazing sex. I've never had such great p*ssy. Like that shyt was

We woke up the next morning, and she realized what happened. She was like, sorry for last night and forcing you to have sex. I was like, "yeah, you basically raped me." She was like, "I've been told that before, I'm sorry." I was like, it's okay, and one of her friends picked her up. I didn't see her again for a few weeks, but I was at a bar with my friend, and she came into the bar. I said hi and shyt, and she sat with us. We had a good convo. And the girl was looking good. Great curly ass brown hair, very fit, nice t*ts, etc. I was like, do you want to hang out after this? She did, we fukked, and it was great . I'm getting hard just writing this shyt (). Heather has the best p*ssy I've ever had. So wet, so tight, goddamn

Anyway, me and her hung out a few more times after that, and eventually started dating. I was fukking another girl at the same time, and Heather was cool with that. So was the other girl, Eva surprisingly. I was fukking two girls at the same time, and they didn't care. Needless to say, I was very happy

Also, I was drinking a ton, smoking weed all day, etc. I wasn't an alcoholic, per se, but I was definitely showing signs. We'd drink like 20 drinks each every Friday and Saturday night. We were sober during the week though.

shyt was all good, and I got my Master's in I/O Psychology. Heather and I were still together. I moved back to CT and got a job. I'd fly Heather in every month and we'd have fun and shyt and it was all good.




...To be continued. Part 3 will be the last part. I probably can't do it until Monday morning, but this shyt is actually helping me out. Plus, I have an assignment from my sponsor to do this shyt anyway, so, win/win. I hope this is helping some brehs out too. I really hope it is. Thanks for reading

 

[Fatboi1]

@Ciggavelli what are you?

 

[Kamikaze Revy]

@Ciggavelli what are you?

Clinically insane :DAIGOTROLL:
You know what's funny, @Ciggavelli is mad paranoid about his identity as he's said before. About a year ago he got a new monitor I think it was (or a game, whatever it was I remember it was slightly reflective), and posted a pic of it, and you could make out his reflection a little bit. I never thought about finding it again cause that would be as hell digging up a pic of a man, but it was interesting since he's so careful about it. When I saw it was like "Oh snap, there's Ciggavelli" and just kept it movin.
Can't say I know what he looks like, but if I remember right, dude actually looked a little bit like me (at least in a blurry reflection).
Anyway, I'm pretty sure he's white, and has long hair for a dude, but no where near as long as yours. Hair like this length at the time

Just googled men's haircuts I don't have random pics of white men on my computer

Now that I think about it, why are we so secretive on message boards about our identity but give all of our info away on facebook, instagram, linkedin, etc like nothing?

 

[the_FUTURE]

Damn. where can this thread be put for more people to see, and new comers to see once OP's life is at the pace he desires.

those were 2 powerful reads, especially the first one. "I shielded my brother from my mom and grandparents. At least I could protect him, so that kept me from wanting to kill myself."

 

[Ciggavelli]

Clinically insane :DAIGOTROLL:
You know what's funny, @Ciggavelli is mad paranoid about his identity as he's said before. About a year ago he got a new monitor I think it was (or a game, whatever it was I remember it was slightly reflective), and posted a pic of it, and you could make out his reflection a little bit. I never thought about finding it again cause that would be as hell digging up a pic of a man, but it was interesting since he's so careful about it. When I saw it was like "Oh snap, there's Ciggavelli" and just kept it movin.
Can't say I know what he looks like, but if I remember right, dude actually looked a little bit like me (at least in a blurry reflection).
Anyway, I'm pretty sure he's white, and has long hair for a dude, but no where near as long as yours. Hair like this length at the time

Just googled men's haircuts I don't have random pics of white men on my computer

Now that I think about it, why are we so secretive on message boards about our identity but give all of our info away on facebook, instagram, linkedin, etc like nothing?

Yeah, I remember that pic. I knew it was reflective, but it was blurry enough where you couldn't pick me out of a lineup. And, yes, I am clinically insane

Anyway, that pic looked a lot like me, at the time, strangely enough. Good memory and guess

 

[Ciggavelli]

Damn. where can this thread be put for more people to see, and new comers to see once OP's life is at the pace he desires.

those were 2 powerful reads, especially the first one. "I shielded my brother from my mom and grandparents. At least I could protect him, so that kept me from wanting to kill myself."

I thought about moving it to TLR, but I'm not as well known there, so it'd probably get lost. I might move it there eventually, but it seems the arcadium brehs care more, so it's more relevant. Thanks brehs

Oh, and yes, I expect some poster will use this thread against me in the future.

Don't worry, I'm good at arguments and rebuttals

 

[Methodical]

...Continued

Well, after my lung collapsed, I was fukked up. I was still in my fukk the world life, so a few months after the major surgery, I started smoking again . I got accepted to a bunch of colleges, as I had good grades, was on the honor roll, etc., etc. I decided to go to the University of Oklahoma, as they gave me the most money. I'm like, how bad could OK be? (As, you will see, I learned that lesson the hard way ). I finished 12th grade, was still with Amie at the time, and then spent the rest of the summer in CT. Amie was joining the Peace Corp. in Cali, and I was going to OK. We broke up. shyt, brehs, shyt was hard...very, very hard. I loved her so much, and still do (we talk to this day). That last day I saw here....man...goddamn. I remember specifically, she said, "don't say goodbye to me, just act like this is a normal day." I followed her instructions, gave her a kiss, and said see you later. I never felt so sad. I cried after we parted. That summer before college, I was heavy into opiates and weed. I developed a sort of addiction to pain pills at this time.

August hit, and I moved to Norman, OK to start school at OU. Um...if you've never been to OK, don't go. I moved from a suburb of NYC to a fukking crazy Baptist, conservative, country state. I had immediate culture shock. Like, what the fukk did I do? Anyway, shyt was cool until 9/11, which happens to be my birthday as well. shyt was fukked up. Other than that, I made friends rather quickly, as all the smokers smoked together, and we talked a bunch. I had long hair at this point, and my first day there, Peter (who I'm still friends with today) was like, you wanna smoke some weed? I was like hell yeah. I asked him how he knew I smoked weed. He said, "you have long hair, so I knew you smoked weed man." (it's true though... ).

I remember a few key points from my first year. One, I feel in love with Psychology. Two, I had an awkward convo with my dad one day (I stopped speaking to my mom ever since I left TX. This lasted for 6 years. fukk that bytch! ). One, needs no clarification, but two, was weird. My dad visited me like a few months after I started school. I said to him, "I have something to tell you." He goes, "is it that you are gay?" I was like, " no, I smoke cigarettes and wanted to tell you that, so I could go smoke one now." He was like, at least you're not gay. I could said I did heroin, and he wouldn't been fine with that . Anyway, that shyt was weird. Just because I have long hair, it doesn't mean I'm gay. shyt. Anyway, I was mad my Dad was thinking like that. It kinda fukked me up.

I didn't date anybody my first year of school, but year two, I met this girl, Jessica. She was gorgeous and came up to me first. She was cool for the first few months, but turned into a lunatic month 3 or 4. She was raped when she was younger, and was crazy. I did mushrooms with her, and she was crying, talking to her cat, and listening to Tori Amos. That was a weird trip, brehs (but that's another story). I didn't have a car at the time, so she would pick me up whenever we hung out. She'd get all crazy, and I'd be like, take me home. She wouldn't. She'd literally trap me at her house, until I was able to get a friend to pick me up. This happened like 5-6 times. I don't like feeling trapped, so I tried to break up with her. She wouldn't have it. She manipulated me, and got me to be with her again. Eventually, I caught her cheating on me, and I was like "bytch, you're caught. It's over." She never tried to contact me again. Thank god. Two things came about as a result of that. One, I bought a motorcycle (Ninja 500cc), and two, I fukking needed to never have a bytch do that to me again. I actually was purposefully celibate for 4 years after that.

Fast forward, undergrad was undergrad. I finished that shyt up with a Psychology degree. I knew a psych BA, wasn't enough, so I applied to grad schools. I eventually decided to go to the University of North Carolina at Charlotte (who had a great master's program in I/O psych). I moved out of horrible OK, and went to NC. shyt was so much better than OK. Like, so, so much better

The first year I was there was like a relief, and I excelled at writing and stats and shyt like that. I was not even thinking about dating at all that first year. The second year hit, and I met this beautiful, nice, caring, thoughtful girl (she was Ethiopian too, and we all know Ethiopians are the prettiest girls in the world ). Her name was Liya. She reminded me that not all girls are bad. She was crazy, don't get my wrong, but we would hold each other for hours and just talk. I needed that shyt. Thank you Liya . She left school, because one teacher was racist, and she tried to get him fired, but couldn't, and that shyt backfired on her (the teacher said that Africans had the lowest IQ of any race in the world. So, you know that obviously was not kosher to many of us.).

I was at a party and met this really drunk girl named Heather. She was fukked up. Like fukked up, fukked up. She was throwing up and shyt, and had no ride. I lived like a half mile away from the party, so I was like, we can go to my place. I invited her over and she threw up multiple times. She wanted to sleep over, so I let her. We were in the same bed, and started to make out and fool around. I was like, we can't have sex, as I don't have any condoms. The girl didn't care. She raped me brehs She got on top of me, grabbed my dikk, and put it in her. I was like, no, stop. She wouldn't, and was on top of me, so I couldn't easily pull out. She said she was on birth control and it was all good, but I was like "no." Anyway, after a minute or so of that, I gave in. I was like, shyt, I'm already in her, so I already got any STDs...fukk it. . Yo, her p*ssy was amazing . We had amazing sex. I've never had such great p*ssy. Like that shyt was

We woke up the next morning, and she realized what happened. She was like, sorry for last night and forcing you to have sex. I was like, "yeah, you basically raped me." She was like, "I've been told that before, I'm sorry." I was like, it's okay, and one of her friends picked her up. I didn't see her again for a few weeks, but I was at a bar with my friend, and she came into the bar. I said hi and shyt, and she sat with us. We had a good convo. And the girl was looking good. Great curly ass brown hair, very fit, nice t*ts, etc. I was like, do you want to hang out after this? She did, we fukked, and it was great . I'm getting hard just writing this shyt (). Heather has the best p*ssy I've ever had. So wet, so tight, goddamn

Anyway, me and her hung out a few more times after that, and eventually started dating. I was fukking another girl at the same time, and Heather was cool with that. So was the other girl, Eva surprisingly. I was fukking two girls at the same time, and they didn't care. Needless to say, I was very happy

Also, I was drinking a ton, smoking weed all day, etc. I wasn't an alcoholic, per se, but I was definitely showing signs. We'd drink like 20 drinks each every Friday and Saturday night. We were sober during the week though.

shyt was all good, and I got my Master's in I/O Psychology. Heather and I were still together. I moved back to CT and got a job. I'd fly Heather in every month and we'd have fun and shyt and it was all good.




...To be continued. Part 3 will be the last part. I probably can't do it until Monday morning, but this shyt is actually helping me out. Plus, I have an assignment from my sponsor to do this shyt anyway, so, win/win. I hope this is helping some brehs out too. I really hope it is. Thanks for reading

I didn't know you're a cac breh but make sense cause usually a cac wanna kill themselves thou . On the real, I don't wish on anybody.

Good stories breh. You should write a book.

 

[Methodical]

Clinically insane :DAIGOTROLL:
You know what's funny, @Ciggavelli is mad paranoid about his identity as he's said before. About a year ago he got a new monitor I think it was (or a game, whatever it was I remember it was slightly reflective), and posted a pic of it, and you could make out his reflection a little bit. I never thought about finding it again cause that would be as hell digging up a pic of a man, but it was interesting since he's so careful about it. When I saw it was like "Oh snap, there's Ciggavelli" and just kept it movin.
Can't say I know what he looks like, but if I remember right, dude actually looked a little bit like me (at least in a blurry reflection).
Anyway, I'm pretty sure he's white, and has long hair for a dude, but no where near as long as yours. Hair like this length at the time

Just googled men's haircuts I don't have random pics of white men on my computer

Now that I think about it, why are we so secretive on message boards about our identity but give all of our info away on facebook, instagram, linkedin, etc like nothing?

You're a cac too that almost like like @Ciggavelli ?