Good morning, F.A. Thank you for posting. I can relate completely. I hope you're getting therapy. If not, find a therapist and start. Please. You'll begin the road to healing.

But I just want to add a few things. I can remember wondering if I was dead. I can remember wondering if nobody mattered. If the world and all the people in it were just a dream. Like if it was all just a hoax. No people. No souls. No houses. No trees. Nothing.

It's weird to think how I became a different kid. I look at photos of myself from before that time, and he's just a happy go-lucky kid. And then after that time, I look scared and anxious. I used to hate those photos. I wanted to bash the head in of that scared like asshole, that stupid motherfucker. There's a picture of me from middle school or early high school. I'm sitting at a bench in my folks' backyard, eating a sandwich. And in the photo, even though I'm sitting on a low bench, I'm sort of sitting there, crouched over my sandwich, elbows on knees. And for some reason my feet are flexed, you know, like you do when you're standing on tip-toe. For some reason, I find that photo so humiliating. And it's because I associate that posture with being afraid. It makes me sad that I hate that scared kid. It breaks my heart that I was sad. I would never hurt a kid like that. What kind of sick bastard would target a scared kid?

I don't know. Good luck, F.A.

Bob


Edited by Robert1000 (09/11/12 09:59 AM)