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"Something True"

Thanks for the reply Grix. I also feel like crap but I think its just wind ;)

Grix Thraves wrote:
>
> but I feel really, really crap at the moment, so meh.



Ditto.



;-)

Jetster wrote:

"I mean I dont want to say "I feel awful for you" or something along those lines as you have probably heared that so many times and I dont want to say something like "great post" as that does not really fit in with what the explanation told."

Really, don't worry. I don't expect anyone to understand at all, deep down.

"I hope you keep getting stronger in life and achieve what you want as you have gone through so much in your life you deserve everything and more some. (sorry about the cheesyness)."

Heh, again, don't worry, thanks for that, really. Thanks for reading, and thanks. I think I'm getting stronger, I feel I'm getting stronger, but I feel really, really crap at the moment, so meh.

I read all of your reply Grix (the first one I did not get) and I really want to say something but I dont know what.

I mean I dont want to say "I feel awful for you" or something along those lines as you have probably heared that so many times and I dont want to say something like "great post" as that does not really fit in with what the explanation told.

So I dont know what to say really apart from....Well I dont know. I mean I cant even do a smiley or crying face. Ill give something ago but it will probably be crap.

I hope you keep getting stronger in life and achieve what you want as you have gone through so much in your life you deserve everything and more some. (sorry about the cheesyness).

Bleedin' hell Grix, that's a bit long isn't it? :D

Grix Thraves wrote:
> Ok, my explaination... it's pretty long

You can say that again! ;)

Ok, my explaination... it's pretty long, but hey.

I'm being hugged, and I'm the only one in the room. But I can feel her sitting on me, holding me, watching what I'm writing now.

This is a little explanation of who I am, and I'll try to make it as detailed as possible. A lot of which I write is fuelled by it, but I've never really allowed anyone but myself to face it. I’m trying not to write so much my feelings, just what has happened.

I don't feel special... I don't feel strong... I just feel like any other person. I'm not writing this topic so I can get comfort from you, I just need to explain myself, who I am, so at least you may be able to understand a bit more. I'm definitely not the most fortunate of people, but my experiences have taught me a lot.

Ok.

I was about eight, or nine, somewhere about that age... I woke up in a bed, and my mum asked me if I knew where I was, and I said "In a hospital." It was a Wednesday.

There's not a lot I remember before that. I have little bits of memories that come to me every now and again... but they're like memories of memories... it's difficult to explain. They're just not like normal memories... but I'm pretty sure I didn't make them up.

Anyway. I had melingitious. I remember waking up, falling out of bed, crawling out to the living room, and lying on the sofa. My mum came into the room not long after, I told her I wasn't feeling very well, and she gave me a drink and a paracetamol. My mum was later told that I would be dead if it wasn't for that.

Then, from what my parents have told me, I black out, and start fitting. Fitting is when someone has no control over their body, and just flails their arms and legs around madly. I puked up, and stopped breathing.

My dad had to give me artificial respiration, breathed for me. I really can't imagine what they had to go through... my first sister had died shortly after birth, before I was born. I've never really talked about it with my parents, but I remember having nightmares about it.

The ambulance arrived while my Dad was still breathing for me, and the ambulance crew took over. I started breathing again, and fitted while in the ambulance again. I tried to bite my tongue off, so my Dad pushed it back in, so I tried to bite his finger off instead.

Took me about a week to recover... I don't understand that much, but you have to have this needle inserted in your spine... loads and loads of needles and crap everywhere. I had to pee down this pipe that they had put into me, the most uncomfortable feeling I've ever had.

The memory thing is pretty odd though... I have just about no memory at all of stuff before all this.

Ok. When I went back to school, I met up with my 'friends'. I couldn't remember them that well, and to be honest, it didn't surprise me. I'd obviously just kinda attached myself too them... we weren't friends at all. They'd spend the whole of break times hiding from me, that sort of thing. :0)

And it really wasn't what I needed. Drove me inside a little, made friends with another loner type guy... neither of us understood each other in the least. He loved to play with cars, utterly obsessed with them... I think he was too afraid to lose the company, same as me really. He was two years older than me, so left, leaving me alone for the while.

I remember crying to a teacher one day that I didn't have any friends. She told me I did, and she told me to come out with her, and she'll help me find them. We spent the whole break looking, and we didn't find them. I think deep down, she believed me, but didn't have the heart to say.

None of this hurts me, not in the least. Just made me a stronger person... I learned to just live alone.

However, there was ONE friend I had. My grandfather. The most fantastically wonderful adult I've ever known.

He was just a big kid. He had run and bought up a business from scratch... he owned a petrol station, the bicycle shop that my Dad half run, and just before he died, the hotel and diner... he had told me, and only me, of his plans for more stuff too... he wanted to put a bowling alley here next, that was his next plan... a cinema he wanted to too, but he was afraid of the costs.

He loved life... he'd talk to me about everything, the stars, moon, his childhood... whenever he walked into a room, he'd burst into song.

One day, he just got up and told me that we're going somewhere. Got in the car with him, drove off, and ended up in an ice-cream convention. We tried out all of Wall's prototype ice-creams... God I miss him. :0)

He still had his problems though. He lost his brother in the war... he was a pilot, was shot down... I think my Grampa was a pilot too... I just can't remember now. He was either a pilot and stopped flying to do ground stuff after his brother got shot down, or just did ground stuff full stop.

He smoked. He smoked, a lot. He'd tried to quit many times... each time, I was the only one that knew that he still smoked. I had asked him to quit, many times... but he couldn't, and I was the only one he'd admit that to. Through all the times that his wife, his son and daughters, his colleagues had asked him to quit, and he'd say he would... it just seems... I was the only one he could be open with, it seemed. I loved him so much for that, because I could be open with him too.

He wanted to take me to Canada... and that's become one of my vows, to go there for him.

The last few weeks of his life were difficult. He coughed more and more, and before long, his voice went completely. He ended up in hospital.

I went to visit him. The last image I have of my grandfather, the man who bought me this fantastic electronic magnet thing, the best ever thing I've ever been given for my birthday... the man that taught me jokes, taught me so many wonderful magic tricks, and would always make me laugh, no matter what, with his incredible imagination and stories... the man that used to sing to me whenever he saw me... lay covered in needles, pipes up his nose, dying from lung cancer. He held my hand, and looked into my eyes.

And then I did something I will never forgive myself for. I let go of his hand, and I walked away. I walked to the window, and I just cried. I couldn't take it.

He died a few days later. There was nothing anyone could have done, but he died lonely, because of me. He had me, I had him, that's all there was. He died lonely because of me.

I haven't been able to look people in the eyes properly since. I can't believe I deserve to.

I didn't go to his funeral. I couldn't face it. I ran away, just like I did at the hospital. The thing is... he'd understand, he'd understand so perfectly, and I know he'll forgive me. But to leave him like that, for his last final few moments, is something I will bring to my very own grave.

Ok. Right.

I'm 15, 16. I can't even remember, it was only a few damn years ago.. I find a lump, and I believe it's cancer.

And you know how cancer is. People that have it, die. That's all you need to know. That's all I knew.

So, my wonderful little naive mind was hit for ten. I was dying, or at least, I believed I was dying, quite deeply, and I couldn't tell anyone.

My Grampa was the only one I could ever talk to, until recently... so to have to step up to them, and tell them I was dying, took a lot of courage.

And a lot of time.

I was stuck in school, finishing GCSE's, starting AS's. Brand new exams for me to go and get little grades in...

Could I see the point? No. But I worked. I just tried to absorb myself into it...

But I couldn't understand anything. I couldn't make sense of anything at all... and I just became lower and lower everyday... I fell back into my own world, I wrote a lot, drew, created, did anything just to take my mind off how bad I was at physics and maths... how much I hated technology because we were never allowed to really let ourselves go...

I was on these forums before this started... but I left. I came back not long after I first learned that I was going to die.

And I held it inside. I held it very, very tightly inside... because I just had no-one to talk to. Nobody would hug me, hold me, be with me... it was by far the loneliest I've ever been in my life. And everyday, I had to cope with normal life.

I would be shouted at for spilling something, laughed at for having messy hair, teased with my wonderful 'monkey' nickname that I adopted for attention... I had to watch, and see, how pathetic everyone was. How much we just wasted our lives... how we took everything for granted, how we could judge others, judge on who we thought deserved to live and die...

I lashed out more than once... and the final day came, when I attacked a boy with a metal bar. He boasted about winning cards, I called him a name, he tried to break my arm, I tried to kill him. That's all there is to it really. At first, they cheered me on, but that soon stopped, and if they weren't there, he would be dead, I'm pretty certain.

And once again, I found myself with no friends. Nobody I could turn to, talk to. I was labelled crazy, and not once did anyone offer to ask me if I was alright, want to sit down and ask if I was feeling ok. Now, I'm very, very happy they didn't.

My sister at this point became bulimic. Every night after food, she'd eat ice cream, and then go puke it all back up. For a long time, I was the only one that knew. I shouted at her a lot for doing it... and eventually I told my parents about it. And once again, she'd just keep doing it, my parents’ trust broken.

She'd go in, turn on the taps as if they'd block out the noise, and make herself puke. I attacked her once with a chair over that, and broke it. The chair is now sitting next to me.

Then, one day, it started to happen. I started seeing things.

At this point, I really began to worry that I should tell my mum or dad that I had cancer... but...

It started off with small things. Doors opening, but when I looked they were still closed... people standing outside windows, coughs in an empty house, hearing televisions on when there weren't...

But it was only when my sister's puppy died, that it seriously got bad. By this time, I had told my parents, we had gone to the doctors, and I was 'awaiting results'.

My sister's puppy one day went missing. She lived on a farm with her boyfriend, and she was pregnant. They went looking for the puppy, and found him an hour later, face down in slurry. My brother in law tried to give him the kiss of life, but it was too late.

He spent the entire day in the garden, holding the puppy in his arms. He buried him in a little grave.

When I was told, I didn't say anything. I didn't cry, I just knew one thing. I had to be strong for my sister, because I knew she would hurt so much.

I cried myself to sleep that night. That was the last time I slept for a while.

Because after then, I started seeing the puppy. Everywhere. Wherever I went, the puppy was there.

This wasn't an imaginary thing. The dog would be lying, dead, a few feet away from me. I could walk around the room, he he'd still be there. I'd go into another room, and there he would be, in another corner.

Then it got worse. Whenever I closed my eyes, he was there too. Then he stopped just lying there... and he'd start coughing. He'd cough up the slurry, he'd keep coughing, coughing up blood, and his own insides.

I couldn't sleep, because not only he was in the room with me, he'd be in my dreams. As soon as I closed my eyes, he was there.

And one day, I just breathed out, and just couldn't see the point. It wasn't a tearful confused situation... I can't remember shaking that much... just... wondering why.

Well, I got a newspaper, sat down with it spread around in my bathroom, and sat with a very sharp penknife, and thought.

I can remember deciding to go and kill myself... but it wasn't a "RIGHT! THAT DOES IT!" sort of thing, more like a "just going to get a drink" thing.

But, it was odd. Because as I thought on the floor... and admitted, not about that much... I really had a lot of trouble coming up with a reason why I shouldn't kill myself.

But, thankfully, I did. And I can honestly, hand on heart say, that if it was not for Ant, if it was not for Fantasymeister, if it was not for Sniper, if it was not for Meka... if it wasn't for the guys on here, the ones that were with us from the start, if it was not for them, I would be dead. That's the utter truth. There was not a single reason for me to live, bar these forums.

How sad is that? No other reason to breathe, than to read a few paragraphs, laugh a bit, write a story together... we were doing the Star Wars story, about half way through that, when I went to kill myself.

And I breathed out, and I cried. I cried like I had never cried before. I just tried to let it all out... everything...

But it's still there... most of it is. In fact, that time that I cried in the bathroom, was the last time I had ever cried properly until today. I cried writing this topic, thinking about my Grampa, and what I did to him.

I'm not strong... I'm very, very lucky. For all the little things that went wrong, there was something there to help me. It's always the same... whenever something bad happens, something else just comes along and gives me a hug.

I'm just wading through life, really. I'm not that special... I'm not amazing, I'm not fantastic. I've just learnt what I can so far from the experiences I’ve been given.

I still haven’t told my parents about me seeing things, trying to kill myself... they don’t really know about me and Grampa either. One boy from school knows about half of this.

But the thing that hurts me the most, is that my parents will moan at me day in, day out, about me playing on the computer all the time, when in fact, if it wasn’t for it, I’d be dead.

And I can’t tell them. I don’t feel close enough to them.

But that’s why I’ve learnt. There have only been two people in my life that I’ve ever really felt close to... I’m just very, very lonely. It bothers me, it bothers me a lot... but I learn from it, I’m inspired by it, I live from it. I can’t say I wouldn’t be who I was if I wasn’t lonely, but it drives me, at least, for now.

One thing that I have been left with though, is a very, very wonderful imagination. I can see things in my mind, and create them at will in my head, with my eyes closed... and that’s why I can lie here, in an empty room, and be held. It feels great. :0)

Yah. Woke up at four last night, been thinking about it since then.

It's ok Grix.

Be happy! And is the story 'The Story of Amneshire' your story?

*claps slowly at Lawless Fever*

Thanks guys, thanks Ant, and really, no problem.

And I reallllyy don't feel like explaining this too much at the moment... so forgive me for leaving this for another time, maybe later on today, who knows.

Just want to write in me story at the moment.