Authors note: hallo minniemeg again just want to say sorry if I havent updated in a while it took a loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong time to write this so enjoy!
PS: This chapter is narrarated through Mikes POV(point of view).
I sat there laying in the gras my hart-, hart broken into a million pieces, her sentence ringing through my ears like a bell.
I always knew Zoey would leave me because of my seceret I just didn't exspect her to leave me because I refused to tell her it, but then again my MPD is the reason I have such a horrible life back home.
I remember my past like it all happened yesterday, I even remember the jaar my life came crashing down.
It was 13 years geleden I was a normal little four-year-old growing up in northern Minnesota I had a mom and a dad of course, but all that changed about two months after my fourth birthday my parents started arguing meer and more, most nights they would be so mad at eachother they would leave leave me home pagina alone, then something terrible happened: one night about three weeks after they started fighting they sat me down at our keuken-, keuken tafel, tabel and told me they were getting a divorce,I guess the shock of hearing that created my MPD.
Things only got worse from there when my parents found out from a therapist that I had multiple personality disorder they decided that neither of them wanted a child with a mental disorder, so they packed up my bags and dropped me off at an orphanage in Canada. At first I thought it would be cool to make some vrienden and be with a family that actually loved me but boy was I wrong!
When they other kids saw me in my personalities on my first dag they started making fun of me right off the bat calling me names like freak,weirdo and jerk. So yeah the other kids were tough on me, but it was worse with adults u see sometimes I would be playing in the playroom/living room and sometimes adults would be passing door to look at us kids, unforuntly (yes I know I spelt that word wrong) for me I would always turn into one of my personalities at that time and the adults would be really creeped out door me.
After about two weeks of this I just decided to play in my room aka the old storage closet, it was pretty cool it had my drawings hung all over the walls and severel boxes were I stored all my art stuff, I used to have a roommate but on my third dag there svetlana was doing flips in the room when my roommate, Jack came walking into the room and since svetlana wasn't paying attenion to were she was going she ended up breaking jacks nose. This resulted into Ms.Letterman (the owner of the orphanage) forcing me into the storage closet and although it was cool having a room to myself it made me feel isolated from everyone.
The orphanage was the worst place u could be, but it got a million times worse when I started school,kids would laugh at me,shun me and beat me up. Some of my worst exsperiances were from middle school like one time when svetlana was doing flips and someone put superglue on the floor of the time chester was giving a lecture about safety and someone dropped a scorpian down his back. But my worst exsperiance in middle school happened when I was in ninth grade, it was spring and the principal had announced a contest in which we had to send in some desighns for a murial for the huge white uithangbord in the front of the school, the winning desighn would be painted door that student and be presented to the whole school. Right after school I spent hours coming up with the perfect desighn and sent it in the volgende day, about a week later the principal announced on the intercom the results of the contest and he zei although they were all very good one stood out from all the rest, the winning desighn is...... Springtime Comfort door Mike Sullivan!, I was so happy I jumped out of my zitplaats, stoel and screamed YES! at the top, boven of my lungs. For the volgende maand I spent three hours everyday school of no school working on the murial, using every fiber of my being to get it done, after a maand of working it was finally done I had taken a step of two back to review my work and I have to say it looked amazing. It was a painting of a beautiful forest with all kinds of animals,trees and plants, in the backround u could see a log cabine with a squrriel on the roof, truly it was one of my best work. A week after I finished it the pincipal gathered everyone in school to come outside for the reveal I excitdly pulled down the massive tarp that was hiding it, but when I turned around I saw something horrible: Some guys had come to school overnight and completely ruined the murial they splattered red, purple,orange and blue paint all over it, but worst of all they wrote in black spray paint: MPD MIKE SHOULD GO IN A HOLE AND DIE!!!!. I thought it couldn't get any worse from there but it did I saw four guys standing on the roof of the school and before I knew it they dumped four barrels of thick black paint all over me, they principal caught and suspended them but at least theyre dignities were intact.
So yeah middle school was bad but high school was even worse, alot of my old tormenters were there and spent no time waiting to beat up ''the biggest freak in canada''. The pranks got worse to, like the time someone shoved my into the dumpsters outside of school and put a padlock on it of the time someone super-glued me to the cafateria tables and that was the mild stuff!
Oh how lonely my life was ( and still is), after school I would lock myself in my room till avondeten, diner and then go right back to solitued. It was incredibly painful not having any vrienden of family, of frankly anyone who cares about me. There were times I thought I would go crazy from the constant isolation and torment, other times I,d be to sad about my life to do anything,I'll admit there were alot of times where I thought about ending my suffering but I would just shake it out of my head.
I thought being on total drama could change all of that, I thought I could finally find accseptance, but apperently fate hates me enough to make the one person I thought truly cared about me hate my guts.
As I sit here in the muddy gras getting dosed with ice cold rain reflecting on my past I have one single vraag running through my head:
Why does life hate me?
To be continued..................