Originally Posted by DeadFidel
(Post 11811395)
Here is her mail: I paid her and have the doc
I believe I made a mistake when I did the shoot with you. Although I needed the money many variables come into mind while rethinking my actions.
They were right when they said that high school years go by so quickly. It seems like I was living in the fast lane filled with plenty of good intentions just bad ideas. My friends and I always had a phrase that we thought was pretty good, "live fast die young"; maybe it was a part of our sarcastic humor that we loved it so much. I started dealing drugs and selling weapons on the streets, I witnessed horrible crimes that still give me nightmares, I started popping pills and shooting heroin, and questioned the validity/worth of my life entirely all too often . .. I was really living that phrase to the fullest: I was living fast, and dieing young.
I started dating my friend Joe, and he was involved in the same kind of bad activities I was. He was a great support for me, and he listened when I would talk about my mother. We were engaged sometime during my sophomore year. I remember him getting violently angry that she was telling me things like I was not pretty, I needed make up, I needed to lose weight, etc. He straight said that she was never a mother to me and she will never be one, and to forget about what she says because she is not worth it. By this point my grades were already starting to fall, I didn?t understand why my own mother would hate me so much. What could I possibly have done wrong to deserve this, and why won?t she let me talk to her? We never had open lines of communication, and now that my grades were falling below an A level I never heard the end of it, I was screwing up my life and I wouldn?t amount to anything. This was the first time I?d gotten any recognition for my academics, unfortunately it was negative. She asked why the change? She hadn?t listened to my problems before why would she now. The depression was only the beginning.
My aunt suggested that we go thru family counseling. I agreed. Every attempt I had made of trying to talk to my mother never ended well. Not only was I unable to ever finish what I was saying, but she always had a quick close minded over critical answer to things I wasn?t looking for an answer too. She never came to any performances or events all through high school and asked why I was wasting my time on things like photography and music. Music was the only thing there was sometimes. I had already been speaking with two of the people who worked at my school and they understood everything I was saying. Every approach they came up with for me to try failed horribly, and every time I would try to tell her how I was feeling and what I thought shed say I was incorrect, it was my problem and in my head and had nothing to do with her. At some point she pushed me into therapy and I was livid, she didn?t see that it was our relationship that needed help and not what was in my head alone.
After that I never heard the end of it about my grades. It was at the point where she made me quit any and all extracurricular sports or music programs I was in.
My junior year Joe and I broke off our engagement because he was continuously cheating on me. Not only was I unattractive, a failure as a daughter and a student, but apparently a bad girlfriend as well. I had huge problems getting up in the mornings the rest of my time in high school, I had no drive to learn, to love, or to live. I had no reason to live. In my mind how could anyone ever love ore really car about me if my own mother couldn?t even on the most instinctual of levels. Love was just another word for revenge. The first time I tried to kill myself, I walked in calm as ever, kicked off my shoes, dropped my bag, grabbed the gun- no hesitation- and it was out. My friend had taken the clip from me knowing I?d been having some bad times. Needless to say I was pissed and my emotions covered the board.
My mom started getting more and more in my face about why my grades were so low and how I was messing everything up. She asked why I had ditched school and I told her ?I thought I deserved a day off since I was planning to kill myself?. Even with a statement straightforward as that she didn?t do too much to help. Mornings were getting increasingly harder to get up for. There was no point to going to school. I could make a few hundred dollars in five minutes or waste my time marinating in a class room for years. By April things were really rolling outside the house. I was at the top of my game and living it up, my brothers and I still talked at this point even though we had all moved to different parts of the state by now. Andy and I were catching up one night and I told him I was taking some pills to knock myself out for the night. He was holding back the tears but clearly worried saying ?girl, what happened to you?? I told him that I wouldn?t have all that I was planning to, I took one less. At the end of the call I remember laying on my bed watching the shadows dance on the ceiling behind the fan thinking I should turn off my bedside lamp. I went to turn it off and realized I couldn?t move at all: not my arms or my legs, nothing. I started to feel the drugs setting in and thought that if I died there no one would know, and it would be really quiet, and I wouldn?t mind at all?then I blacked out.
Mid April 2005 I was going to go out with a group of my friends to another old friend?s place to go swimming. Well, things came up and I ended up just having my old friend pick me up at my place. We watched a movie about our fav band at the time, played some video games, and talked movies and art. A cd had just recently came out and he was playing it on his pc and said that the speakers were bad and we should pop it in the stereo in his room. I was like ?word man, yeah? and we walked to his room and i was looking at the art on the walls and he put in the cd. I turned around to say something and before I knew it his hand was around my neck and I was being forced down on the bed, he raped me. Something I never thought would happen to me, not with how I carried myself outside and my reputation. He raped me and took my virginity and I was supposed to just carry on with my life. I felt like everyone could see what had happened and I couldn?t do anything to change it. I ended up telling Andy and he ?took care of it?. I was a failure at life, and now I was truly worthless in every sense of the word. I again attempted to take my life, my ex fiancé Joe was trying to calm me down. We talked until we each fell asleep.
My skin was beyond pale, and I was sweating but cold to the touch, I laid down. She watched my chest breathe few and far between breaths until she got me to stand again. We did a sorry dance because she said that I needed to get my heart going again.
After I left her place I loved my syringe with a passion stronger than anything else. It was pain and pleasure wrapped into one. I would shoot in the bathroom of wherever I was, multiple times a day and before I went to sleep. I never had to feel again. I never had to do anything again. And no one cared to stop me. I don?t remember exactly when I upgraded to heroin, I just rembmber it being cost effective; rather than using a grip of pills, it was easier to shoot heroin and get a better high and really be gone. I loved heroin, but could not tell anyone about my love. I only used a needle for about four months and the family that I cared about, Andy and all them, weren't talking to me because they know for a fact that needles change people. Andy still blames himself for everything that?s happened to me thinking that it is all his fault. He is one of the few reasons I am alive now and telling my story to help anyone who will listen.
One night in November 2005, I remember being in my moms bathroom and shooting up; but the needle was clogged and not to mention dull. It was my last one and I was not willing to use a dirty one from elsewhere. I remembered a crack head I once saw cut himself pretty deep and he shoved the stuff in there and It must have burned like hell but he really needed it. I thought that if I take my knife and cut my leg I could do the same and it?ll burn but it will be better in a little while. At that point I remember looking at my eyes in the mirror and realizing what I was doing. I put everything down and called Chuck and said ?Chuck, I've got a problem? and told him the whole story. He and some other friends picked me up and we got rid of all the junk and I started making supported efforts to get straight.
I dropped out of high school that following December. I remember telling my mother I used to pop pills, I used to be a junkie, I tried to kill myself, I sold drugs and weapons, I was raped, I told her everything.. and she heard me for once, but only for a moment. She cried for a minute or two, then it was like it never happened. I was done with her. All the signs had been there, and I had even tried to talk to her, she knew all the pills
I have been clean for a year, and am in college now. Im majoring in fine arts and naturopathic medicine. Everyday is still a struggle, and there are still nightmares and feelings of withdrawl even to this day. im not sure when itll all stop, but im staying straight.
at this point i am seriously considering seeing my doctor for depression since it has not lifted.
this winter my boyfriend and i are going to quit smoking ciggs as well.
I hope you understand my request for not using the material we shoot.
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