Junior High

Well these years were not much better.  They really sucked to be frank.  In sixth grade, I was choiced into a school that I should not have been going to because I was out of district.  I was still having the family problems I was having in Elementary.  I have always loved school, for one main reason: it gets me out of the house.  I am away from my parents and have six full hours of being away from my parents.  It was hard in sixth grade because my mother was always late picking me up.  I was unable to take the bus because of the fact I was out of district.  In seventh and eighth grade I went to yet another school although I was not choiced in I went to the school I was supposed to.  It was just as bad if not worse I spent most of my spare time in the library and slept through classes and in the one I slept in daily I passed the class with over 110% in the class.  School was easy for me as you can see. This brings me to high school so far the highlight of my life.

Elementary School Years

Well the years from my first day of Kindergarten until fifth grade were a little rough at home, but at school, I was always ahead of my class.  The teachers would always give me my homework at least a week in advance because I was always so far ahead of the general population of the students.  Now, the elementary school years were not all good. I did not have very many friends and I was a social outcast.  That was mainly because people found me as a nerd who actually does his homework instead of just waiting until the last minute to do it and hope that you can get it turned in when the teacher collected it.  I was highly praised by all the teachers and I almost skipped fifth grade, which I highly regret not taking that opportunity now.  My home life, ever since I can remember, has been shit.  I was at that point in my life abused mentally psychologically and even physically.  My grandmother out of her love for me was concerned about my well-being and called Child Protective Services to have them do an investigation of my parents.  Well they decided that it was not too terribly bad and that all the family needed was counseling.  What a joke that was.  They assigned a counselor, who was supposed to come to our house, stay, and talk with the family for about an hour, hour and a half or so.  The problem with that was he called in sick like most the time so instead of getting the help we were supposed to for about 15 weeks once a week, we got about 2 weeks, once a week. Therefore, the help my family needed dearly was lost. We never got it and have since been to at least 5 different counselors none of which have helped more than a little bit.  This will set you up for the Junior high school years yet to come. 

In the Beginning

My biological father, a man that deserves little respect (if any at all) was not married to my mother, but they still decided to have a child.  That child was obviously me.  Well I was due in mid February and was born via C-section on March 12.  I was ass first, my mother says that “I was showing my ass before I was born and I have been showing how big an ass I can be ever since,” but that is okay, I am not much of a fan of her either.  Back to the topic, my father, whom we will call Earl, was very abusive to my mother and I, while I was a little tike, he on one occasion picked my mother up and threw her into the floor headfirst.  Earl was too lazy to get a job, so my mother was then forced to work to support the family.  He would not load the dishwasher, clean anything, or even feed his child.  When my mother would come home I was always still in my pajamas and I was starving because, as he said, “He never told me he was hungry,” so most days I would not be fed until late in the afternoon, once my mother came home.  This went on until I was about 18 months old, and my mother was able to divorce him. He still had visitation rights.  He was not barred from his son in any way.  Yet Earl has never contacted me, or my mother, by letter or even phone we have had the same home phone number since then.  My mother met my stepfather, who I call “Dad”, when I was about two and married him when I was about 10.  He adopted me later on and that is where I stand now.