A Peek Into My Life Anyone...?

So here is just a basic run through of my life. I’m not going into tremendous details, and nor do I want sympathy. I am posting this so maybe people will have a better understanding of me, and why I am a rude, crude, and brutally honest human being.

First off I was born in a hospital in the small city of Kinney, Iron Range, Australia. The name scrawled on my birth certificate was: Jessika Ann Marie Holly

My brother was just 14 months older than me and his name was Jack. This boy was my hero at the time; he’d play action figures with me. When I was five we moved to the U.S in a city called Portland in the green state of Oregon. Their was where I first met my brother’s friend Frankie.

This little boy and his dark hair that always seemed to fall in his eyes made me turn red. I was only a kindergartner but that little boy made me absolutely giggle. On Valentine’s day I had actually cut out a paper heart and handed it to him. Just as I was about to go and hand it to him he came up to me and gave me a big kiss on my cheek, laying one in my hand as well. It was so adorable.

Right around 6th grade I became really self-conscious. Two months after my dad had left me, reminding me the night before that I was the cause of all his debt and hardships at work. I became terribly depressed and developed a eating disorder. I was twenty pounds under-weight and looked it too. I was admitted to a hospital the beginning of my 7th grade year.

Ever since that time, the boy Frankie, my brother and I were the best of friends. We went everywhere together, did everything together. My brother was so close to me and so was Frankie. Even though after about the 3rd grade I didn’t really think of Frankie as anymore than just a friend because it didn’t seem important to me at the time.

Though on my 12th birthday it was hard not to have feelings for him. Even though I was only in the 7th grade, I had a major crush on this boy. Turns out he couldn’t stop thinking about me either. One day after school he met me in the parking lot and asked me to be his girlfriend. I was young, I thought I was in love, and I said yes. Even though I was a sickly looking stick who had bloody wrists every other night, this boy still had feelings for him. How could I help but totally falling for him?

By the start of my 8th grade year I had gained enough weight to refrain from having monthly checkups and my wrists hadn’t been pierced with a knife for a few months. I was over those addictions. I was over that kind of torture. My dad who didn’t care about me wasn’t going to totally ruin my life. I had a wonderful boyfriend/best friend and a brother who I looked up to!

But the thing was, was that I really truly did love him, my boyfriend that is. On my 13th birthday, a year and a half after he had first asked me out, we shared a very special experience. But we were stupid. Oh boy had we not planned this. I had to move abruptly five days later, leaving behind my best friend and the most important boy in my life (besides my glorious brother of course). I was crushed. And when I found out dreadful news…I didn’t know what to do.

We moved to Amsterdam for a change of scenery so to speak, my mom had just gotten divorced once again and needed a while to recover. I lost contact with Frankie, sadly enough. It was for the best in my mind at the time.

So yes I was pregnant. Pregnant at 13-years-old. I had the baby, feeling it against my moral values to abort it. With the support from my brother and my mom I gave it up for adoption.

We moved around for a bit, back to the US and around the country. I lived in a lot of different places some of them being; New Jersey, New York, Minnesota, Chicago and so on. I dated other guys, turned into a total sex-fanatic not to mention slut. Finally when I was 16 we moved back to Oregon, my mother was addicted to that state and the city of Portland.

Frankie was still their and nothing changed besides the fact that he wasn’t my boyfriend. I whored around the school for awhile and my brother and I separated. He went with his pot smoking friends and I went with my slutty ones. Frankie and I were only acquaintances really, we would have been best friends and should have, but I was to bust screwing every guy I could and blew him off so many times I still don’t understand why he still spoke to me.

He had even bought me a Mustang for a late birthday present, even though I was being a total bitch.

Before my 17th birthday I realized that I was being so so so stupid. I cleaned up a bit, started really worrying about my future and that’s when Frankie and I became close…real close.

We were best friends just like when we were younger. He helped me with the loss of my friendship with my brother. He spent the night at my house various times, we made cupcakes together, played video games together, and fell in love…once again. I didn’t tell him that he had a kid, though, I just wasn’t ready.

The summer before my Senior year this boy was, once again, having a slumber party at my house but this time it was different.

It was 11:36 at night, we were quiet, half falling asleep. I had stood up and stretched and out of nowhere he dropped to his knee. Out of his pocket he pulled out a fair sized diamond ring. I felt light-headed.

“Jessika Ann Marie Holly, since I first met you at 5-years-old I was abosuluty crazy about you, and that has never changed. I’m ready to wake up to you every morning. I’m ready to love you forever, I’m ready to promise my love forever.”

I said yes.

So we were engaged to be married…and three weeks later, the night before we were going to tell everyone the news, and the night before I planned to admit to him that he was a father of a child he never knew of, he had done the unthinkable.

I got a call from his mother the next morning, she completely hated me from day one, I was from a broken home and Frankie and his family were from wealth. She was weeping hysterically.

Franklin Andrew Scott had shot himself.

My old addictions returned…I wrote suicide notes, I cut myself, I lost weight like crazy, and I hated everyone and the world for doing this to me. But most of all I blamed myself for this.

Four months later I am a strong person. My dad left me and my mom and my brother because obviously I was a screw up, but that didn’t hurt me inside. It didn’t change how I thought of myself. It made me stronger. My mom still whores around a bit, but that’s her choice, that’s her life. My brother ran away, and has been gone for a month and a half now and I don’t think I’ll ever hear from him again…and I’m okay. I have a four year old named Micah who I hope to god is in good health and still alive, but I’m afraid to see him. I’m afraid to involve him in my life. But I’m fine. I have the love of my life, my world, the boy who saved my life, dead. Gone. The father of my son killed himself and deep down I know it’s my fault. But I still manage to smile every single day.

I apologize for offending people, I am sorry for letting people down. I am strong though, and you will never be able to say anything that will ever get me down…so don’t try, honestly, its just a waste of your time.

Thanks for reading this, if you did.

Love
Jessika
Xxxx