Last night I found myself looking through some old photos and came across some of me and my friends back in high school.  I had a pretty good time, from what I can remember.  I threw a few major tantrums, fought passionately with my mother, and shunned my father, but isn't that what most 15-year-olds do?  I may be wrong.  I have always been the type of person that pushes things to the extreme.  

Although I was full of teenage angst and gothic despair, I was able to graduate from high school with halfway decent grades right on time (1995).  My parents were proud of me for that, as they had their doubts.  I wouldn't say I was a bad kid, but I guess I wasn't particularly good, either.  I have many stories to share from this era of my life.  My memory is not spot-on, though, so recollections can only be described as based on a true story.  Due to the nature of my experience, some things have blurred together.  In other words, sh*t may be a little mixed-up.  The details are real.  They are how I know my truth is in fact truth.  I wonder how my old friends remember the same moments and happenings.  I no longer have contact with any of them, but I'd bet at least 90% of our memories match.  Seconds & Eons describes an experience I had back in 1991.  

I wish I could remember who took this photo of me (age 15) in my room.

Me, age 14 or 15.  Catwoman's head disguised a hole I made in the wall when I was in the midst of a serious episode.  Only my close friends and family knew I had emotional inconsistencies.  I was trying to get off antidepressants at the time.

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