This is my life story, I can't finish the one I've started to write but this is all of what I was supposed to share with the world in a nutshell.

Here it is.

No Septiplier.

Just Jasper.

~~~

I was born into a family that never wanted me. I was a mistake and I was raised to believe that. With a father that was absent, and a mother that was an alcoholic, I never had the opportunity to have a normal childhood. I never went on family outings, I never hung out with friends on a Friday night and ended up getting drunk afterwards, hell I've never even had a real birthday party. Instead, I spent my Friday nights and pretty much every other night cleaning up my own blood off the floor.

7 years old, most would be riding a bike for the first time or would be scribbling on the walls when you weren't supposed to. But for me, 7 years old was the first time I picked up whatever I found sharp, and carved lines into my wrists, thighs, neck, and pretty much anywhere else. I had to learn at such a young age, to not only care for myself, but to take care of my mother as well. Me being an adolescent, I didn't know that what she was doing to me, was wrong. I grew up thinking that all the torment and all the abuse..was normal. I thought I was the one at fault, that I was just the black sheep of the family.

As I got to the ages of 10-12, I discovered more about what was right and what was wrong. I knew this wasn't supposed to be happening to me, what kind of mother would do this to their own child? But yet, I couldn't do anything about it. I was just a weak and helpless little kid. So, I did the only thing I thought would please her, doing whatever she had ruled me to do. Whether it be cleaning broken glass off the floor from one of her drunken fits, or going out to get the alcohol for her. I thought that if I could please her, I'd be safe from the abuse. But I thought wrong. I learned quickly that she'd never be happy no matter what I would do for her.

Being a teenager is hard enough for anyone. Trying to find who you are and who you want to be in life, living by trial and error most of your teenaged life because you don't know where else to start. I get it, I was the same way. But only difference is, I was completely alone. Parents that support me? that definitely didn't exist. Friends? I never had any, not one. I had to figure out who I was and more all by myself, and that can be damaging to a person. Growing up being told every single day that you're a useless piece of shit and won't amount to anything in life can change your look on things.

Suicidal thoughts creeped into my mind more and more since I was about 11-13 years old. Shortly then I was diagnosed with all sorts of mental illnesses. I never knew what that meant for me at that age. I just thought they were cold symptoms that would eventually go away over time. Boy was I wrong..

I went from weeping silently to myself behind a closed door, to ear piercing screams because my mind was torturing me from the inside out. I was scared, I felt like whatever was going on with me was going to kill me. Being 13, you have a big imagination and no control over it either. Being abused physically was one thing, but mentally? It was a whole new ball game that I knew I wouldn't win.

As I got older, I kept getting diagnosed with more and more illnesses. Not much could make them go away either. Eventually, one day I thought I was seeing things. There was a shadow of a person, only a few feet away from me. I dismissed it, my mind was just playing tricks on me, like it always has. But a few weeks later, it progressed. It started off with shadows, then it turned into shadows with voices, then eventually as time went on, I had seen real faces and bodies. But they weren't real we're they? A long road of complications and diagnosing later, I was told I had schizophrenia. By definition it's a long term mental disorder of a type involving a breakdown in the relation between thought, emotion, and behavior, leading to faulty perception, inappropriate actions and feelings, withdrawal from reality and personal relationships into fantasy and delusion, and a sense of mental fragmentation.

With all the torture I've been receiving over the years, not just physically, but mentally, I attempted suicide multiple times. And I sadly failed each time. I just wanted it to end, I had no purpose, no life, no family, no friends, no nothing. And my schizophrenia definitely didn't make things any better.

I thought nothing could get any worse from that point, that I was at the end of my rope. Wrong again. When I lived at home with my alcoholic mother I ran away often, almost every time I could, I would just run. For hours and hours, I didn't care where I was going just as long as I wasn't home. One night I had done just that, after my mother took her day out on me of course. I had slowed down after exhausting myself, I sat down on a curb and just cried. After awhile someone approached me, at first I thought it was my schizophrenia making me see things again. But it wasn't, it was a guy and he was real. It's not the first time it's happened, usually people come up to me and ask for a lighter or a smoke. Obviously I didn't have either. I thought he would just ask for that and leave, but that wasn't the case. Keep in mind I was already beaten and weak thanks to my mother, so when he tackled me to the ground I had no energy left to fight with. I tried, but it wasn't good enough. He continued to rape me..over and over.. I screamed but nobody came to help. I cried and cried, I begged him to stop but that obviously didn't do anything. I felt disgusting after it all happened. I wanted to die. Just end everything and let that be it. But.. I laid there used, abandoned, and left to rot. And thus, my PTSD was formed.

Fast forward for a bit.. I was still getting abused and didn't tell anybody about what had happened with me that night. It's not like I had someone to tell that I trusted anyway. I knew that I was in the danger zone, but in my mind there was a small percentage of hope that I would be safe. For the millionth time, wrong again.

I was 9 weeks along when I found out I was pregnant. At such a young age, what did you expect me to think? Your guess is as good as mine. I was disgusted, confused, angry, depressed, petrified, and more. I was getting punches and kicks to my stomach area daily, believe me when I say I tried my best to steer clear but it's easier said than done. And as much as I was sickened at the fact that I was forced against my will and left to die in the street, I was still scared for what could happen to my unborn child. I didn't know what to do, I couldn't just have a baby at my age, nor could I take care of one! But I was told that if I were to go through with the pregnancy, my baby wouldn't survive.. So I made a decision I didn't want to make. I got an abortion. Which ruined me. I felt like I murdered an innocent human being. But I had to move on because I couldn't change what I had done after that.

I thought that was over and done with.. If I had a dollar for every time I was wrong, I'd be rich. To keep things short, I was raped again and got pregnant, for the second time. But this time I was further along when I had found out, not like the last time. Not by a huge amount but still. My first child was a boy, second was a girl.. I couldn't keep her..so I did what I had to do. Not what I wanted to do. You must understand that I had no other option, that was my decision not anybody else's.

I mourned for years. I still do. I miss what could have been, every single day. This is a topic I'm extremely uncomfortable with talking about, and as I'm writing this there are multiple tears on my screen. I've spent years trying to forget this part of my life..But I made the choice to start this and I'm going to finish it.

(Skipping the relationships given you all already know about that part of my life)

Shortly after I broke up with my boyfriend, my mother had been in rehab for awhile and I got thrown into a mental hospital because of another suicide attempt.

There isn't much to say after I got admitted. I was restrained, drugged, and empty. For a long time I had just shut down..not wanting any contact with the outside world. Then Aris came into the picture. Believe me, I still felt like someone stabbed me in the heart with a million knives that were on fire and twisted it repeatedly, but he made a tiny difference I guess. You all know about that though, no need for me to repeat myself. But for those who don't know who Aris is, we went to the same high school together. Obviously he's a lot different than the last time I had seen him, and his mental state definitely isn't the same as back then.. But nothing I can do about it, I just accept him for how he is which nobody else does. But that's something we have in common.

~~~

This is me and my story.

I can't turn back the clock to make different choices so I could have better outcomes, all I can do is let time move forward and see where that takes me.

Could be somewhere good, could be somewhere bad. I don't know for sure.

Jasper ~~