Five years ago today I was in a world of confusion.
My life had just started to turn around. I had been high risk suicidal for three years and just plain ole suicidal for three more years before that.
Feeling like my life around me was crumbling was a normal feeling. Feelings of hatred and loathing towards myself and life in general was typical.
It was one day in late October that changed my life forever.
It was English writing class - Grade 12. We had an assignment to read a news story, take a little aspect out of the story and write a totally new creative story out of that little aspect.
The story I wrote was like something I had never written before. I worked hard on it and was kinda proud of it, but knew that something would be found wrong with it.
The next day, our lesson plan on Robertson Davies was scrapped. Instead, my teacher, Mrs. Davies, (uh ... no relation to said author) handed out some sheets of paper face down.
She told the class that she was tired of teaching all about the works of dead people - especially when she could teach the exact same lesson she was going to from someone who was alive - someone who was not only alive, but also in our very class.
She said that this person wrot such an amazing story that it made her cry - she felt like she was actually in the story - living and feeling what the main character was feeling.
She said that the story included all the literary devices that the Robertson Davies story had and this story wasn't so boring.
We turned over the paper after she raved about how good the story was a bit more.
I completely froze and tears ran towards my eyes as I realized it was my story that she had photocopied and handed out to everyone.
I fought the tears back and read along with the class, as I didn't want anyone to suspect it was my story (she had whited out the name).
That day, thanks to Mrs. Davies, I realized that I had a talent ... that my life was worth living.
I'm sure she didn't know what I was going through inside ... I'm sure she didn't know what effect her words would have on me ... I'm sure she had no clue that I had planned to finally kill myself later that day after school on the way home.
Being the shy bastard that I am, I never had the guts to talk to her and thank her for what she had done. It meant so much to me and she had a great place in my heart for what she had done.
Unfortunately, I never got that chance.
It was December 13th, 1999 when Mrs. Davies was driving to tutor a student. Apparently as she drove, she began having a stroke. She had enough time to pull over to the side of the road ... but that was it.
She died from the stroke right there in her car, snow falling down around her. She was only 36.
I was crushed (and I just broke into tears while writing this) as she meant so much to me and I never thanked her ... could never let her know how much she meant to me .... how much she had helped me with those kind words ... how thankful I was, 'cause life wasn't as fucking bad as I thought it was only mere months before.
So ... today isn't one of my greatest days in the year. I miss her a lot and wish that I could somehow let her know what she did for me ... but I know that isn't possible.
Thankfully ... I did learn something from the whole ordeal - talk to people when you can ... thank them for little things that mean a lot to you ... tell people how much they mean to you ... 'cause you never know when you won't be able to say anything to them again.
It's been five years now, but the scar is still fresh on this day.
And if anyone is curious to the story that I handed in ... I'll post it below.
*hugs to everyone* Thank you ... you all mean a lot to me and it means so much to me that you consider me a friend. Your posts make my day and I appriciate all the smiles that you've given me. I do hope you know that you have all found a place in my heart and that I'd so anything within reason for you. Thank you so much.
Fitting In
So it finally happened. It's gone. My prized pureness has been stolen from me.
I can't believe I did it, but I couldn't help it. Really I couldn't. They took advantage of me. How was I supposed to know they would do that?
I can remember it so clearly. So clearly that it might have happened yesterday. Even earlier today. Why do I remember it so vividly? I want to forget all about it. I need to forget about it.
"So, where exactly are we going?"
"I told you Nicole, we're going in behind Shopper's World. There's an alley back there that no one uses. You aren't going to chicken out are you? You still want to smoke this shit, right?"
"Of course Garry, what are you thinking?" said Nicole, doing this just to fit in with someone.
She was a beautiful girl, but she didn't quite fit in with any group. The preps didn't like her because she did drugs and everyone else avoided her because she looked like a prep.
So here she was, going to try crack, for the first time, with three guys she hardly knew. However, none of that mattered to Nicole. All that mattered was that she was finally going to fit in.
"It's just around the corner. We'll smoke it there. I know you're going to love this Nicole. This is the best stuff you'll ever have," said Rod, leading Nicole around the brown bricked wall.
"Yeah, I think we'll like it too," laughed Tom. The statement brought a short burst of laughter from Garry and a sharp elbow in the ribs from Rod.
"Shut up Tom!"
"Sorry," said Tom remorsefully.
Walking along the dim lit alley, Nicole started to get scared. She'd done so many drugs in her life, but none as major as crack. This was going too far. This was just pure stupidity. She quickly reminded herself that it didn't matter how stupid it seemed. All that mattered was the fact that she was going to fit in.
The group sat down on the deserted asphalt alley that was littered with garbage. Garry pulled a joint out of his pocket and lit it. He explained to Nicole that, to get the full effect of the crack, you had to smoke a joint before you started to smoke the crack. It calmed your nervous system down.
After the joint was finished, Garry pulled the crack pipe out of his other pocket. He explained to Nicole exactly how to smoke it and lit it up. He took the first pull from it and passed it to Nicole.
I remember it clearly. We had just finished smoking the crack and I felt like I was floating on the air. I still knew what was going on around me, but I was losing that ability fast. I felt as if I were going to die.
I remember them talking about something, but I forget what it was. I couldn't hear them clearly enough, but I did pick out a few words. I do remember however, that I was getting scared. I had this gut feeling that they were going to do something to me. I can't believe what they did do to me. I can't believe I smoked crack just to fit in. Especially with them.
Nicole passed out. She had never experienced such a high from drugs before, and this was how her body dealt with it. Later on, Nicole would wish that she hadn't passed out. Things would be totally different. Nevertheless, here she was, laying on the cold asphalt with three guys she hardly knew standing around her.
Tom and Rod walked a semicircle around Nicole. They talked to each other in quiet voices, but neither heard. Both knew exactly what was going to happen, and they knew that it happened either now or never. It was the prime time to do it. They knew they had to do it now while she wouldn't know what was happening to her. It was perfect. Their plan couldn't fail now.
Garry stood up and joined his friends. They all looked at each other and nodded that they would follow through with their plan.
Tom was the first one to move. He flicked Nicole in the cheek to make sure she was out. He nodded to Garry signifying that it was okay.
Garry moved in and ripped Nicole's pants off. He took a cautious look around to make sure no one was nearby, noticed that there wasn't, and started to rape her. After he finished, Tom and Rod raped her.
As Rod raped Nicole, she began to wake up. She slowly opened her eyes and looked around.
I remember it all. I opened my eyes and there was Rod. On top of me having sex with me. I remember wondering why he was doing this. I didn't say he could. I remember feeling the coolness of the asphalt on my bare skin. I screamed as loud as I could, hoping that it would scare him away. Garry and Tom ran, but Rod stayed exactly where he was. He raised his hand and slapped me.
"Shut up and I won't hurt you!" yelled Rod.
Nicole was frightened. She didn't know what to do. She tried to push Rod off of her, but he easily outweighed her by a hundred pounds. She lay on the asphalt feeling helpless. She knew there was no one around. It was late at night and they were in a place no one ever ventured out to. Nicole thought to herself that they may be the only people that knew about this alley. If they were, Nicole knew she was in a lot of trouble.
She screamed again. Rod was about to hit her again, but just as his hand started to descend, he heard sirens. He got off of Nicole and ran.
I'm glad he didn't know that the sirens he heard were from a fire truck. He probably would have killed me if it wasn't for that fire truck.
I still can't believe that they did that to me. My pureness was gone . . . forever. It was the one thing that I could never regain, stolen from me by three guys I trusted. I trusted them, although I hardly knew them. All they told me was that they were going to teach me to smoke crack. How could I have been so stupid to fall for that? I had heard stories about them before, but I treated them as rumours. How I wish I had believed them now. I wish I wouldn't have gone with them and smoked the crack. I wish I didn't pass out.
Nicole sat on the ground and started to cry. As the tears rolled down her cheeks she thought about how stupid she was. How could she have trusted them? She had learned her lesson.
She pulled her pants up and noticed that there was a large hole in the knee. She began to cry harder, because she knew her mother would scold her. They were a new pair of pants. Nothing seemed to be going right anymore. She trusted some guys to give her a good time, but instead gave her immense pain. She got up slowly and walked towards her house, being cautious and looking at everyones faces. Tom, Garry or more importantly, Rod could be lurking anywhere.
Her tears rolled down her creamy white cheeks and landed on the collar of her white blouse. Her hand reached into her pocket and pulled out a cigarette. She flicked her lighter with her cold, hurt hands and inhaled deeply. Her hands trembled as she slowly walked home.
As she reached the door, her tears stopped. It was time to act grown up again . . . time to act as if she had never done drugs in her life . . . time to act as if she wasn't craving some more crack. She opened the door to her house . . . and realized that she had also opened the door to addiction that night.
Thank you Mrs. Davies ... I miss you.
My life had just started to turn around. I had been high risk suicidal for three years and just plain ole suicidal for three more years before that.
Feeling like my life around me was crumbling was a normal feeling. Feelings of hatred and loathing towards myself and life in general was typical.
It was one day in late October that changed my life forever.
It was English writing class - Grade 12. We had an assignment to read a news story, take a little aspect out of the story and write a totally new creative story out of that little aspect.
The story I wrote was like something I had never written before. I worked hard on it and was kinda proud of it, but knew that something would be found wrong with it.
The next day, our lesson plan on Robertson Davies was scrapped. Instead, my teacher, Mrs. Davies, (uh ... no relation to said author) handed out some sheets of paper face down.
She told the class that she was tired of teaching all about the works of dead people - especially when she could teach the exact same lesson she was going to from someone who was alive - someone who was not only alive, but also in our very class.
She said that this person wrot such an amazing story that it made her cry - she felt like she was actually in the story - living and feeling what the main character was feeling.
She said that the story included all the literary devices that the Robertson Davies story had and this story wasn't so boring.
We turned over the paper after she raved about how good the story was a bit more.
I completely froze and tears ran towards my eyes as I realized it was my story that she had photocopied and handed out to everyone.
I fought the tears back and read along with the class, as I didn't want anyone to suspect it was my story (she had whited out the name).
That day, thanks to Mrs. Davies, I realized that I had a talent ... that my life was worth living.
I'm sure she didn't know what I was going through inside ... I'm sure she didn't know what effect her words would have on me ... I'm sure she had no clue that I had planned to finally kill myself later that day after school on the way home.
Being the shy bastard that I am, I never had the guts to talk to her and thank her for what she had done. It meant so much to me and she had a great place in my heart for what she had done.
Unfortunately, I never got that chance.
It was December 13th, 1999 when Mrs. Davies was driving to tutor a student. Apparently as she drove, she began having a stroke. She had enough time to pull over to the side of the road ... but that was it.
She died from the stroke right there in her car, snow falling down around her. She was only 36.
I was crushed (and I just broke into tears while writing this) as she meant so much to me and I never thanked her ... could never let her know how much she meant to me .... how much she had helped me with those kind words ... how thankful I was, 'cause life wasn't as fucking bad as I thought it was only mere months before.
So ... today isn't one of my greatest days in the year. I miss her a lot and wish that I could somehow let her know what she did for me ... but I know that isn't possible.
Thankfully ... I did learn something from the whole ordeal - talk to people when you can ... thank them for little things that mean a lot to you ... tell people how much they mean to you ... 'cause you never know when you won't be able to say anything to them again.
It's been five years now, but the scar is still fresh on this day.
And if anyone is curious to the story that I handed in ... I'll post it below.
*hugs to everyone* Thank you ... you all mean a lot to me and it means so much to me that you consider me a friend. Your posts make my day and I appriciate all the smiles that you've given me. I do hope you know that you have all found a place in my heart and that I'd so anything within reason for you. Thank you so much.
Fitting In
So it finally happened. It's gone. My prized pureness has been stolen from me.
I can't believe I did it, but I couldn't help it. Really I couldn't. They took advantage of me. How was I supposed to know they would do that?
I can remember it so clearly. So clearly that it might have happened yesterday. Even earlier today. Why do I remember it so vividly? I want to forget all about it. I need to forget about it.
"So, where exactly are we going?"
"I told you Nicole, we're going in behind Shopper's World. There's an alley back there that no one uses. You aren't going to chicken out are you? You still want to smoke this shit, right?"
"Of course Garry, what are you thinking?" said Nicole, doing this just to fit in with someone.
She was a beautiful girl, but she didn't quite fit in with any group. The preps didn't like her because she did drugs and everyone else avoided her because she looked like a prep.
So here she was, going to try crack, for the first time, with three guys she hardly knew. However, none of that mattered to Nicole. All that mattered was that she was finally going to fit in.
"It's just around the corner. We'll smoke it there. I know you're going to love this Nicole. This is the best stuff you'll ever have," said Rod, leading Nicole around the brown bricked wall.
"Yeah, I think we'll like it too," laughed Tom. The statement brought a short burst of laughter from Garry and a sharp elbow in the ribs from Rod.
"Shut up Tom!"
"Sorry," said Tom remorsefully.
Walking along the dim lit alley, Nicole started to get scared. She'd done so many drugs in her life, but none as major as crack. This was going too far. This was just pure stupidity. She quickly reminded herself that it didn't matter how stupid it seemed. All that mattered was the fact that she was going to fit in.
The group sat down on the deserted asphalt alley that was littered with garbage. Garry pulled a joint out of his pocket and lit it. He explained to Nicole that, to get the full effect of the crack, you had to smoke a joint before you started to smoke the crack. It calmed your nervous system down.
After the joint was finished, Garry pulled the crack pipe out of his other pocket. He explained to Nicole exactly how to smoke it and lit it up. He took the first pull from it and passed it to Nicole.
I remember it clearly. We had just finished smoking the crack and I felt like I was floating on the air. I still knew what was going on around me, but I was losing that ability fast. I felt as if I were going to die.
I remember them talking about something, but I forget what it was. I couldn't hear them clearly enough, but I did pick out a few words. I do remember however, that I was getting scared. I had this gut feeling that they were going to do something to me. I can't believe what they did do to me. I can't believe I smoked crack just to fit in. Especially with them.
Nicole passed out. She had never experienced such a high from drugs before, and this was how her body dealt with it. Later on, Nicole would wish that she hadn't passed out. Things would be totally different. Nevertheless, here she was, laying on the cold asphalt with three guys she hardly knew standing around her.
Tom and Rod walked a semicircle around Nicole. They talked to each other in quiet voices, but neither heard. Both knew exactly what was going to happen, and they knew that it happened either now or never. It was the prime time to do it. They knew they had to do it now while she wouldn't know what was happening to her. It was perfect. Their plan couldn't fail now.
Garry stood up and joined his friends. They all looked at each other and nodded that they would follow through with their plan.
Tom was the first one to move. He flicked Nicole in the cheek to make sure she was out. He nodded to Garry signifying that it was okay.
Garry moved in and ripped Nicole's pants off. He took a cautious look around to make sure no one was nearby, noticed that there wasn't, and started to rape her. After he finished, Tom and Rod raped her.
As Rod raped Nicole, she began to wake up. She slowly opened her eyes and looked around.
I remember it all. I opened my eyes and there was Rod. On top of me having sex with me. I remember wondering why he was doing this. I didn't say he could. I remember feeling the coolness of the asphalt on my bare skin. I screamed as loud as I could, hoping that it would scare him away. Garry and Tom ran, but Rod stayed exactly where he was. He raised his hand and slapped me.
"Shut up and I won't hurt you!" yelled Rod.
Nicole was frightened. She didn't know what to do. She tried to push Rod off of her, but he easily outweighed her by a hundred pounds. She lay on the asphalt feeling helpless. She knew there was no one around. It was late at night and they were in a place no one ever ventured out to. Nicole thought to herself that they may be the only people that knew about this alley. If they were, Nicole knew she was in a lot of trouble.
She screamed again. Rod was about to hit her again, but just as his hand started to descend, he heard sirens. He got off of Nicole and ran.
I'm glad he didn't know that the sirens he heard were from a fire truck. He probably would have killed me if it wasn't for that fire truck.
I still can't believe that they did that to me. My pureness was gone . . . forever. It was the one thing that I could never regain, stolen from me by three guys I trusted. I trusted them, although I hardly knew them. All they told me was that they were going to teach me to smoke crack. How could I have been so stupid to fall for that? I had heard stories about them before, but I treated them as rumours. How I wish I had believed them now. I wish I wouldn't have gone with them and smoked the crack. I wish I didn't pass out.
Nicole sat on the ground and started to cry. As the tears rolled down her cheeks she thought about how stupid she was. How could she have trusted them? She had learned her lesson.
She pulled her pants up and noticed that there was a large hole in the knee. She began to cry harder, because she knew her mother would scold her. They were a new pair of pants. Nothing seemed to be going right anymore. She trusted some guys to give her a good time, but instead gave her immense pain. She got up slowly and walked towards her house, being cautious and looking at everyones faces. Tom, Garry or more importantly, Rod could be lurking anywhere.
Her tears rolled down her creamy white cheeks and landed on the collar of her white blouse. Her hand reached into her pocket and pulled out a cigarette. She flicked her lighter with her cold, hurt hands and inhaled deeply. Her hands trembled as she slowly walked home.
As she reached the door, her tears stopped. It was time to act grown up again . . . time to act as if she had never done drugs in her life . . . time to act as if she wasn't craving some more crack. She opened the door to her house . . . and realized that she had also opened the door to addiction that night.
Thank you Mrs. Davies ... I miss you.
VIEW 25 of 35 COMMENTS
Take a look....this is me...it's my favorite that's when I was bigger though....