Here’s the continuation of my story, which I posted on here last week and started on my One Twitch At A Time page on Facebook. But PLEASE BE WARNED, I TALK ABOUT DRUG USE & DRUG ABUSE IN THIS PART, SO PARENTS KEEP THAT IN MIND IF YOU HAVE YOUNGER READERS READING THIS.
The freedom that NBHS’s open campus policy provided was both a blessing and a curse. I loved being able to roll over to the mall next door during lunchtime while at the same time using the various stores as my personal playground.
Lord knows how many dollars’ worth of merchandise I absconded with, but at the time I didn’t care. All I knew was that I was good at stealing and the kids that weren’t were willing to pay me for “services rendered” (I sure hope the “statute of limitations” protects me here!!).
But soon enough the thrill began to wear down — not to mention finally getting caught — and I soon realized that no matter how much I stole and tried to buy acceptance, the so-called “mean kids” were still there and still took great pleasure in making me feel like some sort of mistake that never should have been.
I was desperate for some sort of escape and soon found there were plenty of people willing to get the twitchy guy high. We’ve all heard the old idiom “first hits free,” but for some reason, while the 1st, 2nd and 3rd hits were free, I never once had to pay for any of my dope. People were constantly giving it to me, and I was not gonna turn it down.
I know that marijuana has been known to help some with their TS, but it never did anything for mine. All it got me were conversations with street lights, barking at classmates, attempting to make light black by mixing white and black paint only to discover I had made gray, being branded a stony looser by teachers and some old friends, and making the already difficult task of classroom learning completely impossible.
I ended up taking auto shop and was informed by one of my friends that huffing gas provided a high like no other, so we spent most of the term looking like we were making out with the old van around the side of the building. I began to huff off of my dad’s old lawn mower at home until one day I had huffed so much gas I had passed out in our front yard. I have no idea how long I was there before my dad found me, and being no stranger to the “Game” in his younger years, he knew exactly what was up.
He explained to me the EXTREME dangers of gas huffing and that the feeling I had grown fond of was my brain being on the verge of shutting down thus rendering me DEAD. Now I have no idea if that’s true or not, but it scared me away from gas huffing, but I still was smoking out with my buddies as often as possible. For better or worse I was slowly winning people over, albeit the wrong people with a few exceptions, and found myself being invited to parties and I soon discovered how much I loved hard liquor.
It was beginning to get easier to talk to the ladies, and while some were very sweet & kind girls that never seemed to mind the tics, there were others who were not so nice. I found if I tried hard enough I could suppress my tics just long enough to get some girls to go out with me, but as they always do, the tics soon reared their ugly head and I found myself once again in “dumpsville.”
I remember one girl I dated for about 2 days before she ended it all with the words “If I’d have known you were a retard, I’d never have went out with you”. Those 15 words cut me deeper than anything before, I was so fed up with everything, I hated myself, I hated people, I hated the things they would say, and I hated my life, I felt like nobody wanted me or even cared, I just wanted to die, so that’s what I set out to do.
To be continued …
PS — I just wanted to take a minute and clarify some stuff. I know the “Dibstory” may seem to be a bit on the doom and gloom side a lot of the time, but don’t get the wrong idea here — I had a lot of great times, too. I had a lot of awesome friends; my parents, well, the only gripe I have about them is that they weren’t millionaires, but that never kept them from providing everything a kid could want or need. Heck, I had a go-kart, for goodness sake. They kept me neck deep in Transformers toys until I moved out of the house!! So yeah, I had a lot of extraordinarily bad times throughout my life, but I also have had some crazy awesome times I wouldn’t trade for the world!
And thank you again to everyone who has followed my story so far, and thank you for all the kind and uplifting words! Keep a look out for part 4 sometime this week. I just may meet a special someone in this part. 😉