Let me Tell You A Story...

I was born on April 27th, 1990 in Biddeford, Maine to Anita Hall and Michael Daigle. My parents were never married, in fact they were never really together. I don't know all of the details of my parents' early relationship, in fact I have no idea how or when they even met, but I do know that it went downhill after I was born. when I was little, I thought my life was happy and normal, which is how I imagine most kids feel, but I found out later that it wasn't. My father is a thief, an addict, and a liar, and that fact is still ruining my life to this day. Exactly 8 months before I was born, on August 27th, 1989, my half brother, Dustin was born. He was conceived while my parents were "dating", his mother's name is Vickie, and I've only seen them a handful of times in my life.

My father spent 90% of my childhood in prison, after stealing from my mother and everyone he knew. I have far too many memories of going to visit him with my grandparents (his parents) in a couple different prisons on Christmas and Thanksgiving, sometimes I would be taken there on weekends... but I had no idea who he was at the time. Just that I was supposed to accept and love him.

My mom raised me by herself, working multiple jobs at a time just so we could afford to stay in the apartments she rented. My father's parents, my grandmother Verna and grandfather Paul, would take me for days and days at a time while my mom worked, and it was like living on two different parents. My mom and I had nothing, our apartments were usually bare and empty, and even when I was young I knew that wasn't normal. But when I was with my grandparents, I felt spoiled. I was exposed to money, hobbies, and just how shallow people could really be.

I remember going camping in a huge RV with air conditioning and a TV with cable with all my cousins, and having my grandmother cook gourmet food and call it "roughing it". That RV was nicer than any apartment I had ever lived in. I hated it. My father's side of the family is all about money, and I've never had anything in common with my cousins, which made being raised around them difficult. I was always outcast, and that molded me into the pessimistic, depressing loner I am today.

My grandparents raised me until I was around 8 years old. My grandmother tried to force a number of things on me when I was little, such as acting, dancing, singing, painting and ceramics, cooking, and religion. Nothing ever stuck. I stopped singing, I stopped dancing, and the rest I never got into. I refused religion. Around the time I turned 6, my mom had started dating a man named Larry, and she is still with him to this day. Larry is an ass hole. But I'll get to tat later.

My mom and my grandmother got into a fight, and no one would tell me what it was about. I stopped going to Sanford to see my grandparents and my mom went back to raising me herself, since she had landed herself a steady job. When I was 7, my mom and I moved out of our apartment in the city, into Larry's trailer in the country. Larry has a son named Michael, who is two months older than me. From day one we butted heads. We were always in the same classes, and we were constantly fighting and challenging each other to do stupid things.

I was a scrapper when I was young. Despite Michael being bigger than me, whenever he picked a fight with me, I always won. It got so bad one time that I pushed him out of our back door (we had no porch at the time), and he fell 4 feet and hit his head on a cement slab. I felt no remorse, but I was punished severely, despite the fact that he started the fight. He was always getting me into trouble.

Larry always thought his son was a perfect little angel, despite the fact that he failed every class he ever had, had severe behavioral problems, and constantly stole from my mom. Me? I did chorus and band, I played sports, and I made straight A's and was in Gifted and Talented classes in school. None of that was ever recognized. I hated it. I started to resent my mom and Larry, and everyone I came in contact with.

Larry was a drinker, and an addict. He and my mom would yell and scream on a daily basis, and I can't even count the number of times I climbed out my bedroom window in the middle of the night and just ran away from it all. On a few occasions he would get physical with her in front of me, though I'm sure it was more often than just what I witnessed. I wasn't even in middle school and I knew that she wouldn't be able to handle it. He usually left me alone.

By the time I got into middle school, I was emotionally destroyed. I stopped playing sports, stopped hanging out with my friends, and stopped trying in school. I got my first C in the 6th grade and was devastated. I got my first F shortly after, and more followed. I had given up. By the time I was 11 years old, I started cutting myself. I didn't know what it was, but... it helped. I remember the first time it happened, I was sitting in my room listening to the arguing coming from the kitchen, and I broke the antenna off my radio. I used the jagged edge to carve a "Z" into my leg. After that, I couldn't stop.

I think the only thing that really kept me from was my music. Every year since I started playing the clarinet, I was first chair. Every district music festival I attended, I was first chair. I felt talented and special. But it was still pure chaos around me.

When I was 13, my mom found a box cutter on the floor of the bathroom, and when she confronted me about it, I told her the truth. She put me in Sweetser counseling every Wednesday during school, my counselor's name was Geanie, and she became my best and only friend. When I got into high school Geanie remained my counselor and for once I was happy and normal. Towards the middle of the year, Geanie was transferred away, and I was devastated. I never saw another counselor after her, and never told my mom that I started cutting again.

Freshman year was rough for me, I still wasn't doing well in school, and I was associating with the senior stoners and the emo/goth kids. I just wanted to belong to something. I floated from boy to boy, trying to find someone to love me, to tell me that I was pretty and not a complete waste of space. I managed to hold a few relationships, but never anything serious. Then I met Mark.

Mark and I were best friends from the start. We had everything imaginable in common... and I thought I wanted to talk about him, but now I realize that it hurts too much to bring up all the things that he put me through when we were in high school together. when we were "together". It still hurts, and its fucking stupid. So moving on.

Because of Mark, I went through high school mostly alone. I quit band and chorus and started focusing on school again. I got back on the honor roll, and started spending every second of free time in the library reading. I was on a first name basis with the librarians, and they let me check out extra books and never charged me late fees, they even let me eat lunch in the back of the library every day. I was miserable. I became a library aid my senior year, and won an award at the senior graduation assembly for reading. I read 1,000 books in 4 years.

Now, because I left out a lot about Mark, I left out a massive chunk of my life. but here's the gist of it: Mark got me into world of Warcraft, but after years of him tearing out my heart and making me want to end my life, I gave up on him and became involved with a boy who lived in Missouri, his name was Matt. It may sound crazy to anyone who has never played the game, but its almost impossible to NOT develop personal feelings for people you spend so much of your life with. So we started dating towards the end of my junior year.

During school I was involved in the Upward Bound program, which helped me prepare myself for college. While UB was one of the best experiences of my life, it made me feel even less significant. I never really thought I'd live long enough to graduate. But thanks to Matt, I found the strength to get out of bed every day and make it to graduation. He convinced me to apply to the same school he was going to, and when I was accepted, he convinced me to fly to Missouri and stay with him and his family, before we went to college together. Long story short... all my loans well through when the economy collapsed, so after a year of college I was forced to fly back to the United States alone for the Summer to find a job to finish paying for school.

I fell in love with someone else while in college, but didn't realize it until later. At the time he was my best friend through WoW, but when I told him I needed a place to stay, since there was no way I could return home, he let me stay with him.

I fell in love with Colby, and Matt and I ended our relationship, and our friendship. I was devastated.

Colby and I have been together for almost two years. Our 2 year anniversary is April 27th, my 21st birthday. We've been having a hard time lately, and sometimes it seems pointless to continue trying to fix what's left of our relationship, but there are good times too. Despite the stress and the fighting, we love each other, and I know it would be so much easier without the stress of money and our jobs tearing us down.

I left a lot out... details about my sisters (Desiree, Miranda, and Brianna), things about Dustin (he is currently in prison and hates me), details about high school and college... but honestly, if I were to write it all out, we'd be here all night. So there, that's a nice little glimpse into my brain. So now all of you who complain about me being too emotional or too talkative on Facebook/Twitter can either accept that this is who I am, or you can fuck off.


I love you Colby, please don't forget that, and please don't give up on me, or us. I know we fight, and butt heads constantly, but I'd like to think that we'll some day find peace. I don't know where I'd be without you. It hurts too much to think of ever losing you.

Thank you for reading.

J