The story of me

The story of me

A Story by Nin_Com_Soup
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Every topic has a number, Choose a number and read! :D

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1.) Tank         2.) Sensi       3.)Rain       4.) Bugs     5.) music    6.) Alex        7.) Books    8.) Writing    9.) Firework










  1. Tank was my first pit-bull, he was also the first dog I remember having, he was my only friend. As an only child companionship is hard for me to achieve, but it is something I always look for and crave. Tank was that protective, but fun big brother I needed. My mother was playing with me one day and I was laughing. Tank growled at her, grabbed me (very gently) by my shirt and carried me into his bed, he would growl at anyone who tried to retrieve me. He taught me how to be aware of my surroundings and people I surround myself with. He was allergic to everything, being a white haired pit-bull. He was allergic to himself so bad his hair fell out and he was in constant pain. We put him down after he started yelping whenever we pet him.





2. Sensei Rob was the one who taught me how to be strong. He told me to never give up, and as cliche as it sounds, it stuck. He was the one I looked up to, he showed me Perseverance and how to direct anger and sadness into something positive. We were breaking boards with a “hammer fist” as he called it. His son, (i believe twenty five at the time) Has one board he could not break, everyone tried, I was the last one left. I got in my stance, foot twisted to the right, hips level with the bricks the wood was standing on, other foot pointed out. Test one, I lightly tap it, Test two, I tap it again, The third time I hit it with full force and I broke it. This showed me just because others couldn't achieve it, That they couldn't do it, Did not mean I couldn't either. He showed me how to try. And most importantly, how to succeed. Rest in peace, February 2016.



3.) At this time it was storming, Thunder roaring and lightning cutting the sky in half. Rain was pouring like bullets, as if the clouds shot the ground. The power in my house went out, we had no batteries, we lit candles with matches and lighters (we as in my mother and i) and I offered to get batteries for her. She handed me a five dollar bill, my “obama phone” as one would call it, and let me go. Thunder clearing my way as rain washed the sidewalk from dirt. Lightning lighted my way like a flashlight as I walked. I got to the gas station, got batteries and left, thunder booming and lightning threatening my every move. The rain, if at all possible poured harder, to the point it hurt my arms. The wind picked up and howled at me, I roared right back (in theory that is) by putting my head down and mushing on. This taught me courage, no matter how fearful I am, or how bad a situation is, you must find a way.



4.) Before we moved into our (well my) first house on palmer ave, we lived in a trailer of sorts. Grass was always overgrown, hornets and snakes living in it. Bee’s making their nests in our shed. Small creepy crawlies, like centipedes, ants, spiders, and what ever else you can think of made it's way inside. Our cereal, well, food in general was always moving. The little nasties got into our fridge, lights, freezer, and anything else we kept something that was remotely considered food. They fed on the dead rats under the oven, and even tried eating me. This taught me how I should appreciate what I have, and not complain about what I don't, there is a difference between need and want.


5.) Music I listen to, the lyrics I write, are things that I cannot express myself. Listen to the lyrics I play, they are the words I fail to say. I listen to what I feel, if I am angry or frustrated I listen to Heavy metal, If I am sad, I listen to soft rock, things with melody, waltzes. If I am happy or in general a good mood, I listen to Pop, rock, Punk, Tech, and many others. This lets me have a mood for the day, and keep my bipolar disorder in order. It teaches me Habitual traditions and moods.



6.) This boy, Alex, was my first boyfriend, my first friend. He was the first human I actually clicked with. When we were together, anything went. We could just look at each other and understand what the other was saying. But the one thing I did not understand at that time was depression. One day he asked me “If I left and never came back, would you forget me?” I told him “never.”

That same day he committed suicide. I was never allowed to the grave. This taught me how to cope with loss. How losing something or someone you never thought you would can break you down, but in the end, only you can build yourself back up. Rest in peace 9/8/10


7.) The little slice of heaven between two covers, books, are the thing that keep me rooted to this world, as odd as it sounds, my escape helps me stay grounded. If not for the fantasy in my head, the books in my room, I would not be sitting here. My depression would have gotten the best of me. But in the end, it was a battle with myself I needed to win. And I believe with all my heart, that I won. This, reading, taught me how to imagine myself in a different place, how to dream and fantasise about things, overall it taught me hope.



8.)  Writing helps me express my feelings by portraying them on paper for someone to read, not decode. Although there is a philosophical way to my writing, I believe it does get the point across to the thing I am trying to explain, through poetry or stories alike. Writing is a way for me to show my feeling without the added stuttering or hardships of coming up with something on the spot.

9.) This firework was not just a firework. That night changed both my father and i’s world. My father was shot in the eye with a firework when I was six years old. It exploded in his eye and ripped his pupil in half. This was a start to my separation anxiety, I did not see my father for weeks at a time. And also a start to my PTSD, though I am loud with my voice, any loud noises like, clapping, banging, stomping, lockers slamming, and books dropping set it off, I still wonder how I can manage in band when the drums still scare me half to death. This experience taught me fear. But it also taught me how to cope with that fear.


© 2016 Nin_Com_Soup



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Added on September 29, 2016
Last Updated on September 29, 2016

Author

Nin_Com_Soup
Nin_Com_Soup

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About
I am a 16 year old writer that expresses her feelings and soul through writing. I am sometimes a keyboard warrior so watch out! Toodles! ~('>')~ more..

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