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.|