The truth behind who I am is slightly different than what I have told you. After reading a bunch of posts, I realized that most of you have no idea who you think I am. So I decided to tell the true story about me. I will only be giving the basics. I'm not going to be giving out a bunch of personal info just the basics. This will be the only time I do this, so copy and paste.
I grew up in the country with a very abusive father, a stereotypical mother, and a brother that was 4 years younger than me. My dad grew up as a only child with two very strict parents. He is a very selfish person who only cares about himself and his money.
When I was young my dad took a lot of his anger and frustration out on me physically. I spent most of my time living in fear of what will happen to me when he gets home from work. My mom did what she could to protect me by lying and trying to cover shit up. When my brother was born I noticed that my dad treated him different than he did me. Almost like he was trying to not make the same mistake with him that he did with me.
As I got older I grew to hate my brother, because of how dad treated him. He treated him like he was his buddy. I started to take my anger out on him at a young age. It made me feel better to watch him cry. But it was a double edge sword, for every time I made him cry my dad would put bruises on me. When I was 10 years old I forced my brother to suck my dick in the bedroom one day and I told him if he told dad i would kill him.
One day at the kitchen table i did something to my brother I don't remember what but it pushed him to far and he told dad what I made him do. I remember the way dad looked at me. My mom jumped up and grabed me and ran with me to the bathroom and locked the door. She was trying to keep my dad away from me. She asked me why I did that and who was it that told me about that stuff. I don't remember what i said to her. I'm sure it was probablly I don't know.
My dad was yelling at her to open the door, she opened the door and he told her to go outside. I don't know why she listened to him but she did. My dad took me in the garage and hit me on the back with his fist, I fell down and just stayed there he picked me up by my head and grabed something metal. I think it was a pair of needle nose pliers. He stuck his fingers in the side of my mouth and pulled out my front tooth. It was the worst pain I had felt to date.
When I hit my teens the fear I had for my father turned into hatred. I started to do things on purpose to make him mad. It made me feel good to make him as mad as I was. Everything between me and my dad changed the year I turned 13.
One day that year I was outside weedeating around the trees in our front yard, when a kid that lived down the road came over looking for my brother. He and my brother were good friends he was my brothers age and a lot smaller than me. I would always pick on him when he came over, to make my brother mad.
I remember thinking at the time what the weedeater would do if I ran it over his legs. When he turned around to go to the house I squeezed the triger on the weedeater and did a quick swipe across the back of his legs just above his knees. I remember seeing the cut it made and that it didn't bleed at first but after a few seconds the blood was everywhere. He droped down to the ground and was screaming so loud. I took off to the garage and went inside hopeing nobody would hear him. My mom went running outside and picked him up and brought him inside and called his mom and the ambulance.
The next day the cops and a lady come over to the house and took me to a place kinda like a hospital for kids. I stayed there for 3 or 4 months. I only remember one of the ladies I had to talk to, and the room I stayed in. All of the people there were part of a church the ladie that worked with me was a nun. When I was there everything about my dad came out and the cops went to the house and were investigating our living conditions.
I ended up droping out of school in the 8th grade and lived with relatives and people I knew on the street, for a few years. From the ages of 18 to 23 I was in and out of jail for fighting, stealing, drugs a little bit of everything. When I was 23 years old. I was doing a lot of bad shit when one day I went to my parents house strung out on meth looking to start trouble. My parents were gone but my brother was home. I remember getting into a fight with him about dad. I'm not going to go into the details about what I did to him but because of what I did I went to prison for 10 years. I didn't kill him and I don't remember wanting to kill him. I just wanted him to suffer the way I did, growing up.
I was never in the army. I lied
I dont have my own business. I lied
I got my GED in prison and when I got out of prison. My uncle helped me get a job where he works. He is a business center manager at a factory that pays very well.
I struggle still in social situations. But the meds my psychiatrist has me on helps me to go to work every day. When I'm not working I spend all of my time at home or on my bike. I don't trust myself enough to socialize outside of work. People in general make me sick and make me want to destroy everyone around me. That is why I said I will not go to prison again. When the time comes for me to remove my mask again. They will have to kill me to stop me.
