So, I know I do this a lot.... buuuuuuut...

I'm making a self-analytical post. This is kind of hard for me to write about since I don't talk about it that often and I don't recall ever writing about it in great depth, but I suppose that one has to begin somewhere.

I know I've talked about how I've had a difficult past and like, I'm going to get into how it was so difficult and why I think I did it and I guess there's going to be more than that as well, but that's the gist of it.

I guess it all kind of started when I was about 13. At least, that's when I stopped being who I was before that and I started being who I was from ages 13 to 17. Before 13, I was shy and quiet. I didn't have any friends, but that was alright. I sufficed on my own devices in my own company and I was happy, I suppose. Rather, I wasn't unhappy. I enjoyed myself... I read avidly, I loved science, I just... did anything I could do by myself. When I was 13, I got my first friend... and she became my first friend at the same time as she made herself my first girlfriend. I remember being young and wondering why this girl suddenly took and interest in me and I was curious but not overly curious. I mean, I had seen my peers pairing up and I wasn't actively trying to pair up as well, but it just happened. Needless to say, the two of us didn't work out for very long. To be blunt, she was a bitch. She would yell at me all the time for not holding her hand when I was supposed to and she would always yell at me for doing something she didn't like or not doing something else that she thought I should do. Eh. It was tiring. She inbtroduced me to my first boyfriend (still, at age 13), Devon. He was nice, as I recall; sweet and we got on as friends... but still, we were 12ish. Obviously it wasn't overtly meaningful. However, Devon did introduce me to something new that was overtly meaningful to the next few years of my life.

Devon introduced me to partying. He didn't mean to, but it happened. After we had "broken up" (an event which amounted to us just deciding that we didn't want to see each other after school every day anymore, oh if only life were still that simple...), we remained friends, just not as close as previously and he asked me if I wanted to go to a party with him and his older brother. Being the naive child that I was, I assued that this was a birthday party. Like for kids. Like, with a clown or pinata. Yeah... no. It wasn't that kind of party at all. Devon and I were easily the only ones south on 20 at this party. Now, being the naive and curious child that I was, when I heard this alcohol thing, my ears pricked up.

To give a tidbit of background knowledge, I come from an Italian family. I had been having a glass of diluted wine with my dinner every night since I was 10 or 11. Alcohol wasn't strange to me, but all of the different kinds were quite curious and they piqued my interest. So, of course... I drank. Devon drank a little too. This was the first time I was ever legit drunk though. It wasn't like, bad. We were just a little tipsy. So, we started dancing. That night, I danced with a fellow who was quite cuddly. I speak of him fondly and frequently; Alex. Oh, Alex. I remember that night so well despite the tipsiness.

We had been dancing together.... or at least, I was dancing and he was dancing and we just happened to be right on top of each other when doing it. I recall his hands winding their way on my hips and again, as a naive child, I guessed that this was normal. Oh, I was right then too. It was normal. So, after dancing for awhile, Alex and I ventured over to the couch for a bit of a rest and he offered to go get me a fresh drink, which I (looking back on it) accepted idiotically. Luckily, Alex is a relatively good guy and it was fine. We just sort of cuddled on the couch and talked for a bit. It didn't take him long to realize that I was younger than he had initially guessed, but he didn't want to just cast me asunder. So, yeah. That happened... and he gave me his phone number and then I called him about three days later and we hung out a few days after that at the next party. Gradually, we became really close friends. He started calling me Piper and I started calling him Lexi (which was effing dumb, ok. I admit it. Let's move on...). So, now for more introductions... Alex introduced me to some of his friends and they were all good for the most part. By then, I had become quite the little drinker. I had also learned how to get what I want, even if I wasn't conscious of myself doing that.

Several months after I met Alex, probably about July, I started to snort cocaine. Alex and his friends did it and I was curious. I remember Alex saying that he didn't think I should start, but it was my choice. So, obviously, I did it. Then of course... I fiended. That was kind of terrible, but even then, I did it again... and pretty soon I was doing it at every party. It was a casual, social thing. I'm not saying that excuses it, but it makes me feel less stupid. I've never talked about this before and I've even denied doing it, which weighed heavily on my conscience for awhile... which is when I coming out with it now.

So, basically, that was my life... I was having boyfriends at school, which doesn't go any deeper than that besides the fact that one of them gave me my first kiss (Stephen)... but otherwise, I was partying like a fool. When I turned 14, I started on being more curious and our good friend Alex steps in to introduce me to new things. this new thing was sexuality. At this point, Alex and I had been making out fairly regularly. By "fairly regularly", I mean every time we hung out. Soon enough, I had given him the first hand job that I had ever given and he gave me the first I had ever received. Not long after that (maybe a week), we moved on to mutual blow jobs. That was an interesting experience for me, to say the least.

I had a strange relationship with Alex. We did all of this stuff, but when I was 14, he made it clear that we were non-exclusive. I remember that night. We had a terrible fight and I threw a knife at him, but it missed and stuck in the wall. So, I had boyfriends aside from him too all the way up through the years.

When I was 15, I started dating a guy named David. After a month of being with David, things turned wrong and he became abusive. He hit me for whatever. It didn't matter if I had done anything or not. If he was mad, I might as well have not even talked. So, I didn't. I stopped talking or thinking for the whole time I was with him. He was worse when he was intoxicated. At one point, he was so angry with something that had nothing to do with me that I cracked me with a glass bottle in the back of the head. That was fun. So were the four stitches I got. David also went further with it, emotionally and verbally abusing me and worse. Far worse. **At this point, we've gotten in so deep that we've gotten to a point where I haven't even told my therapists about this.** I'm not sure if I'm even ready to say it now, though, I'm sure it's somewhat obvious. So, Imma just talk about it because I guess it can't hurt. Anyway, David started molesting me and he would make me do sexual things that I didn't necessarily want to do. He never actually raped me, but still. It was hard. At that time, I developed eating disorders and started picking up prescription meds to dose myself instead of the cocaine. I just wanted to sleep all the time and they let me do that.

Alex tried to help me out the entire time, but meh. I didn't know what to do and I didn't care. I was scared, sure, but I don't know. I still loved David and I thought he meant it when he said he would stop if I didn't like it. Then, seven months after started dating, David broke up with me. A week later, I attempted suicide.

That time period is kind of fuzzy for me. I remember saying something to Alex which, I guess, must have tipped him off so I don't think I was passed out for more than 20 minutes before he found me and called an ambulance. I was in the hospital for two weeks after that. They called my mother first and she said to call my father because he was closer. They called him. He never picked up. So, Alex took me to his apartment and I stayed there for a month getting better and regaining my stamina in life. during that time, I lost about 35 pounds which was... catastrophic.I was down in the high 70's for awhile and Alex made me bounce back up to high 90's. I still struggled with the eating disorders though and, even though I knew he was trying to help, I resented Alex for "making me hate myself". He got me back on my feet and within three months, I was back partying and slutting around with any guy I could land for the time being. Drinking, cocaine, and now prescription meds.

By now, I'm 16 and I was doing this and juggling boyfriends for short periods of times and not getting very attached to any of them. Then, in June, I met Daniel. Daniel was really good for me. He cleaned me up and he just... well, I was happier when I was with him. I loved him. We made all these pans for what we were going to do because we wanted a long term relationship.He wanted me to be his and I wanted him to be mine as much as I wanted to be his. We were going to go to Europe so he could make his films and I could write. three months after I met him, in August, he passed away in a car accident.

After that, I was literally broken and I had nowhere to turn. alex had abandoned me because he didn't like Daniel. He didn't like Daniel because Daniel and I had plans and Alex wanted to be a part of my plans and he didn't want Daniel to be. So, when Dan died, Alex was gone and I had pretty no one besides Nolan. Nolan was Dan's best friend since about 7th grade until he died when he was 26. Nolan helped me through it a lot and I helped him. A few months later, I met Nicky. He picked up the pieces that Nolan couldn't reach and put me back together as well as he knew how to... and we're still happy as ever, getting happier by the day.

This past summer, I entered a rehabilitation program and I've since stopped the drinking and doing coke. For the most part, I stopped doing prescription drugs that I wasn't prescribed. However, I'm on 4 different meds for anxiety, depression, and moodswings. I now have four counselors who I have to check in with twice a month and a therapist who I have phone sessions with every Wednesday.

I'm getting better, but I'm not perfect. I suspect I may come dangerously close though.

-Peter