Thursday, April 5, 2012

Begin At The Beginning

The first time I flipped my shit I was maybe nine or ten years old. My parents had decided that we needed to get out of the South Bronx for a few days and the family went on a trip to Williamsburg, VA. It was a good trip though I remember feeling like a beast next to the two daughters in the other family we were vacationing with. The girls ran track, had pretty skin and hair that always looked good. How do you compete with that? I mean, it wasn't a competition but...it sort of was.

It was on the drive back home that I lost it. I don't remember what the situation was that led up to it. All I can remember is sitting in the back seat of the car and feeling like I wanted to rip my skin off. If my dad had stopped the car I would have jumped out and ran until I couldn't run anymore. My dad didn't stop the car, though, so I got up on my knees and started to scream. I wasn't screaming because I was in pain or angry or scared. I was screaming because I didn't know what else to do.

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, I don't know what happened after that. I just remember the screaming. My first bout of mania. For some reason that memory always makes me feel ashamed of myself...

I'm not really sure how to end this post. So...the end.

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