One in a group of a 1000, out of 6 billion

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One in a group of a 1000, out of 6 billion
Topic Started: Apr 7 2008, 08:25 PM (433 Views)
Emperor Dinobot	Apr 7 2008, 08:25 PM Post #1
Tonight, you'll break your one rule... Posts: 8,465 Group: Moderator Member #17 Joined: May 6, 2004	This isn't one of those essays I normally write. I'm usually assigned to write about authors, books, lyrics, pictures, science, social issues, emotions, and such crap. I'm very good at that you see, convincing people, and persuading them, too. Sometimes I'm compelled to write emo notes to myself. On blogs, or myspace. Notes that never really reach their targets. But that does not matter now. I'm not really trying to gather pity here. I'm actually going to write about a really personal issue that should face the light, in order for this issue to get more awareness. You see, I am one, in a group of a thousand people, out of six billion human beings. Fanconi's Anemia is a rare genetic disorder. It's usually characterized by various physical anomalies, such as short stature, skeletal problems, increased incidence of cancer related illnesses, and increased sensitivity to damage in a molecular level, as the chromosomes won't repair themselves efficiently. But the ultimate abnormality is the failure of the bone marrow. 13 gene mutations are known to cause Fanconi's Anemia. and it's in the X Chromosome. Both parents need to be carriers in order to have their child have a one fourth possibility to inherit the disease, as it is an autosomal recessive disorder (Males have a set of XY chromosomes and females have a set of two X that they've inherited). The blood components in people who suffer from this illness all have diminished abilities, thus the ability to develop leukocytes, erythrocells, and latelets are all diminished, which in turn lower your capability to fight infection, clot wounds, and deliver oxygen all over your body are all diminished. In 1994-95, I was told by our family physician (who is an authority in Venezuela, which is a third world country with backwards medical systems) noticed that there was something very wrong with me. See, he liked to read around, and did some blood work on me. My predisposition to illnesses was very high, which is an indicative of an abnormality, compelled my uncle to send me to the best hematologist in the entire country. More tests followed. In 1995, I was 6 or 7. I was a blissful happy little kid who had a normal, albeit bratty childhood. My precocious intelligence was well spoken of, and I was simply loved by everyone. But I was still...very odd...very abnormal. And I got sick all too often. That year, the main hematologist sent me to a grey, horrid building which turned out to be a research hospital. Obviously underfunded by the poor government. I was totally unaware than a few minutes later I would be fighting for my right to stay sane. My pain threshold has never been very high. Then I saw the doctors show up with a gigantic syringe and a big, fat needle in its end. Naturally, an intelligent, aware boy like me freaked out and tried to run, but my strength was nothing compared to seven nurses and my parent's tears. So they grabbed me, pulled my pants down, and injected a needle as long as my thumb into my ilium, and out of it came a dark red, coarse liquid which turned out to be bone marrow blood cells. That's where all your main mother cells originate. The pain was probably, to this day, the sharpest, most horrific pain ever experienced by a human being. Sheer terror overcame my persona, thus beginning a beautiful relationship with pain, anguish, and all that comes with it. Sad thing is that in developed countries, such procedures are done with anesthetics. More tests followed. My cells weren't forming adequately, and they continued to deteriorate. Not enough red blood cells were being formed, and I was suffering from a progressive bone marrow failure. "Your son has a debilitating disease now known as Fanconi's Anemia" For two well educated parents such as mine, this was still a very new thing. And it came as a shock, but enough explanations led us to believe more research and more praying needed to be done. And my days as a kid were being cut short drastically. No dinosaur in the world could heal the sharp pains each needle would cause due to the poking and prodding of every inch of my body. And my ability to be normal (Who knew this was an actual ability) was diminished as I entered the second and third grades in one of the best prep schools in Venezuela. But at least I had support from all my family, my teachers, and my numerous friends, which at that time, were simply...the best thing ever. Sure we all went through dark times, but there was a big space for a certain level of bliss in my life I couldn't run. I couldn't play sports. I couldn't be part of activities other normal kids would do. One would think my social abilities were not enough to save me, but I had brains on my side. I was a perfect student who got nothing but A's, fame and recognition in a school with 3000 students, which were all from bratty backgrounds, but knew that friendship was a real thing, and continued passing it along. A rare thing among their breed, let alone the entire ####ing planet. That was enough at the time, but every two months I would require a blood transfusion in order to "re-charge" me since my red blood cell counts were so low. But before this happened, before I went into that wonderful school, my parents had devised a secret plan that was bound to fail, but it would brighten our lives forever. The only cure for my disease was a bone marrow transplant. A bone marrow transplant is only successful if the donor is a perfect match to the host. There were many ways to gather stem cells from perfect matches, and one of them came from a sibling. Since I was the unlucky one fourth recipient of the anomaly, my parents were advised to end my days as a single child. If they couldn't get the stem cells from the child's umbilical cord, then they'd get it straight from the source. So my sister was created for the purpose of curing me. So we flew to New York City in order to meet the person who was in charge of the FA Registry, Dr. Arleen Ouerbach, a sagging, crazy, unorthodox lady who was a lot of fun. The whole trip was a lot of fun, and my english was still very fresh, as two years ago I had moved from Pullman, WA once my dad finished his studies. We stayed at a Ronald McDonald house, which is a charity that gets a lot of money from the numerous donations made by McDonalds (So you can't really hate them now...but I won't get into a debate against Mickey D's). It was an awesome building in upper manhattan that, while full of sick and dying children, had a free arcade with the most kick ass and current video games ever. My mom was very pregnant, and I had a thing for Power Rangers (which kept me very strong physically as I liked acting out all their moves and stuff). Once there, millions of tests were run on me. I counted how many pokes I had during the trip, and the number amounted to eleven. I also met the love of my life (Young kid love is cute), a nice girl my age that helped me get through tough moments, and was simply more than just a mutual crush. Strange, but true. And while at Dr. Ouerback's office, we met another young patient who also had the same disease. One of the most prevalent characteristics of FA is the lack of one or both thumbs. I have a reduced right thumb that is fully useable, so I guess I'm one of the lucky ones. This black girl had four fingers on each hand. No thumbs. I said she looked like a ceratosaurus (A theropod with four complete manual digits), which was taken in as an innocent insensitive comment. The girl was flattered I had called her a dinosaur. The musem was right on our doorstep, too. So while we socialized, gave other families support while they too gave us support, and in the middle of all my tests, my sister decided to come out after just eight months. She also had Fanconi's Anemia. While she brightened our days, we left broken and defeated, as there was no cure for my disease. My sister, however, never ever EVER showed any symptoms, and she is perhaps, the single healthiest case of Fanconi's Anemia ever. A cause for envy, trust me. Back to the prep school thing. While I had full support from everyone, my disease WAS debilitating, and while I was a brainy, reliable, social kid, I was cut off from the full time job of being a kid. So we grew closer to God. Being the devout Catholics we are, we searched and searched, and found answers. Destiny it was. There was a plan for me. A plan I still haven't figured out. And then, while I was not yet cured, we saw God. Literally. God's power. And began to see a pattern. We were better off than other people, who were recipients of God's power. I wasn't meant to be magically cured like a lot of people all around us were. But I'm not gonna get into a Christian vs Atheist debate. This isn't about semantics, this isn't about Christians being evil and shoving their beliefs up your ass, being good, following the bible, or not believing in a higher power at all, so please, spare me, for I have seen things that no one can ever prove scientifically, which leads me to believe, that no matter what your case is, or what your stance is (in relation to useless semantics, religious ars and so on) iA higher power does exist, because I have indeed seen God's power, and seen many unnatural things that not many get to experience in their entire lifetimes. I'm not trying to convince you of God's existence, because, even at times I am at odds with my faith, as I only see injustice in the world. But I guess what really matters is what you believe in. After all we're loose ended Catholics. While we're devout, it's about spirituality and things that aren't Earthly. And trust me, I am quite frightened about the Christians we've met. While most have been nice, there's been an unfortunate few who just don't understand that other people should be respected, and thus left alone, no matter what their background is. We aren't like that at all. Anyways, for years we searched for answers, and searched for a potential donor. But the transfusions continued. And so did our general suffering. Sure, our social life was excellent, we moved to another sector, and began enjoying higher middle class privileges, but we had many reasons to be hopeless, but we never gave in. Suddenly, my Dad realized he had a sabbatical year coming up, and took it, rekindling his connections with Pullman. We found the amazing coincidence that Seattle was one of the leading centers in cancer research, and began to connect the dots that for so long began to be placed in order. Amazing coincidences took place and decided that all that had happened since my birth somehow had to happen that way. So we returned to Pullman, as my disease became worse. We waved at our friends and our family as we left them to pursue a final cure. And that is where my childhood ends. After all, it was expected for me to abandon it anyways, since I was one in a group of a thousand, in six billion people. We knew the odds of me surviving this, but faced it and its potential consequences. Part 2 soon.
	Introduce a little Anarchy. Break the Established Order And you get chaos. And the thing about chaos...it's fair


Emperor Dinobot	Apr 9 2008, 07:26 PM Post #2
Tonight, you'll break your one rule... Posts: 8,465 Group: Moderator Member #17 Joined: May 6, 2004	Is it coincidental that I'm watching Jurassic Park III at the moment? To continue my story... We returned to Pullman, and obviously, I wasn't aware of what was gonna happen to me. I started sixth grade normally, like any other child would do. Except I was awfully fat (Due to the excessive amounts of prednisone I was taking), and extremely weak. We started to notice the professionality and amounts of support we were getting from doctors. We rekindled our first time relationships (Remember I used to live here from '90-'93), and my old doctor sent me to the real experts. Once with the experts, they decided to give me a portacath in my chest, just to diminish the pain I got when getting Poked, and of course, more tests followed. But I was getting weaker. And time was really running out. So I met my future high school friends, Keri, Mike, Stephen, and hung out with them for a bit. They all liked dinosaurs like me. We were a team, and we were deadly. But I also found the person who in 1993 started me on dinosauria. And we became best friends once again. I thought it was destiny. Destiny that he and I should become best friends. So our families got together, and we all became best friends. And he and I shared an undying love for dinosauria as well as Jurassic Park. I envied his rare dinosaurs (While I had more, he had the rarest ones, JPI stuff, Carnotaurus, Gallimimus and Baryonyx, I didn't even know those existed!), and we invited each other very very often. But it was hard for him and I to continue our relationship due to all my shortcomings, and school absences. But he would continue visiting me, even at the hospital. December 2000 was full of surprises, as I had been put into the care of a charity called the Make a Wish foundation (Which was recently bankrupted by a single dying kid who ordered his own real Darth Vader), and I asked them to get me to Disney World, to...see what it was about for myself. And we went. Animal Kingdom was Number one. I don't think I've ever bought so many dinosaurs in a single week. But it went fast, and we had returned home five days later. I had not yet beaten Pokemon Silver. The first part of the year 2001 was very easy, and I was released from my ESL classes, and thus was able to befriend my friends a little better. I find it hard to remember this year in detail... Then Jurassic Park III came. Trevor and I made plans to watch it once it hit in Summer. And we planned to collect all the toys (I actually stuck to it, but he and I helped each other). Trevor was my brother and I was we, and were willing to face whatever together, no matter what. I trusted him to be there for me. And he was, he really was. So towards the middle end of the year (2001), I became increasingly sick, weak, and impossible. I was down to a Transfusion per month. I was still in high honor roll, I still had friends, support, and sanity. And LOTS of Dinosaurs. Support came in many many ways. PRactially everyone at school was on my side, and I had nothing to hide. I remember every single kid who was in Mrs. Fulf's class. I remember them well. I also remember certain people being very worried about me. It was inspiring and assuring. I had nothing to miss from Venezuela. Sure it was other people, and a different culture, but I had them all in the palm of my hand. But then towards July I started to die. The ship had begun to sunk rapidly. And as I started to die, a donor came out. And I was saved! Or was I? One of my last memories of that summer was me getting chills while at Trevor's house. So he and I wrapped each other with blankets while looking at Ebay for nice, rare Jurassic Park dinosaurs. We had a bunch of targets, too. But in a week, I was leaving for Seattle, to find a cure. Towards the end of the week, I started getting awful nosebleeds, and due to the amount of blood lost, I couldn't even get up to pee. Because I would black out. There was no way to stop it. No way at all. A couple of months before, On July the fourth, just going to the celebration was a huge risk, as I had nosebleeds before. Everything became a game of risk. So I went to Pullman Regional Hospital, where the silly male nurse dude with the british accent assured us that there was nothing they could do for me, and the next day I had gotten cleared by Seattle Cancer Care Alliance, so we left. At the tiny airport in Pullman, I hugged Trevor good bye, and left to pursue a very thick cloud in my life. It was September the third, 2001. Eight days later, after a ton of tests, America itself went through its biggest test since its early days. And it would continue haunting everyone's way of life for the rest of its current history. I could not believe that such a thing could happen in this great country, which had shown us hope, warmth, and love. Then I was given the odds. 25% chance of surviving. I was the first case SCCA had handled, so they used all the previous knowledge concerning Fanconi's Anemia. And so, my portacath was replaced with a Hickman line, which is a must if no one wants to get poked. I also required frequent platelet transfusions, and extreme care. Trevor and I continued calling each other at seven at night, and we'd laugh about stupid things, and even tune into America's Funniest Videos and criticize people's stupidity. We were still very much friends. My actual transplant was delayed for like a month, and it was set for October the Thirteenth. I had been admitted to the hospital a bit before, and I was to go through preparations. My aunt came from Venezuela to help take care of me. I remember the doctor's assistant, a strange lady named Bernie, told me that my hair may not return the same color. I challenged her view, and told her I would keep my red hair. No matter what. I was to receive a very low dose of cyclophosphamide (A type of chemotherapy), and total body radiation to get rid of all my previous cells, and essentially to clean my bone marrow so it could accept the new cells. And so October 12, at midnight, the new cells came. Within a few days I started feeling the effects of the chemotherapy and radiation. My skin was peeling, my nails stopped growing, and all my inner linings had dried up, which caused my mouth, my esophagus and my stomach to burn as if someone had lit me up on fire while all I did was swallow dead cells. I poised myself not to eat any food at all. And then, I lost my beautiful red hair. And I started to see that my life was one of misery. When I was taken to the daily bath, the normal bathtub was currently occupied, and we went to one that happened to have a mirror in it. I broke it. And then I fainted. I had never imagined myself without hair. And since I was so vain about it, it was simply the beginning of the end for me. Then I started a 3 week long depression. All I did was sleep. I lost touch with the outside world once and for all. I gave up on all my favorite things. I didn't play with my new Bionicle companions, or my dinosaurs, nor did I want to draw. I was offered to watch my favorite movies, and I refused them. My aunt tried to read me Harry Potter, and I told her to leave the room and shut the ####ing blinds. I hated light. I hated pain. And I refused to call Trevor, nor did I speak to him for three weeks. I didn't want him to see me in this God forsaken condition. And I cried each time I heard my dad's voice, or my sister's on the phone. Everything would make me cry. I was depressed chemically. And this is why I refused to watch tv in the light of recent events. And sleep I did. Years of energy lost were regained right there. But my cells had begun to grow. Daily tests were made, and soon, my hemoglobin level had started to increase exponentially! 2.3, 3.5, 5.6, 7.7, 9.5, 10, 11, 12, 13! 13!!!! I had NEVER had it so high! While I couldn't feel energy returning, I could tell it soon would. My lovely nurses always kept me happy, sent in clowns, and talked to me, and were always impressed by my smarts, even when I couldn't speak. Allison, a british shmarty pantsy nurse, and my favorite, would always come in and give me lots of fun. And my other nurses were just as lovely. But I was still very depressed, and I allowed no light to come into my life. Gasp. Halloween was coming, and I always loved Halloween. So my mom, my aunt, and my nurses devised a plan to get me out of bed. One nurse brought me a Batman cowl, and a cape, and my mom got me black pants, black sweat shirt, and gloves. And after three weeks, I got out of bed to protect Gotham City once again from rogues like Jack Nicholson, Danny DeVito, Uma Thurman, Timmy...and...uh... Batman's always been my favorite superhero. I was a fan of Batman before I was a fan of Dinosauria. There was something appealing about his humanity, his lack of powers, and his obsession with saving others from going through the same things he did. In a way, I was doing the same. Becoming an experiment, to save one thousand people in the world who shared the same disease as me. 13. On November third, I turned thirteen years old. I was still in the hospital. While I slept, I planned to do something special that day. Before I entered the hospital, my mom and I went out looking for an Animatronic Spinosaurus that would be my present that day. We brought him along to my room, and I waited to open him. By then I was already happier. I had resumed talking to Trevor, who called me for my birthday, as did everyone who cared about me. I remember waking up while my mom was out talking to the doctors, just to open my Spinosaurus. He's standing in front of me. I recently got him out of his box to take his batteries out before they explode. I also remember asking for one other thing. Pizza Hut Pizza. At my our apartment. I was told I could go for just half an our and then go back to the hospital. So I went back to my apartment, saluted my toys, and even my family was there to support me. My cousin Maru who was taking care of my sister, my aunt, my mum and my dad. But half an hour was nothing, since we lived far away from the hospital. We ordered the pizza before hand, and when I got home, I was finally able to enjoy the best tasting food in the world. But near the end, I started crying heavily, because it was too good to be true, to be back "home"... Buuut! I got a brand new computer. I looked forward to it. I was supposed to leave the hospital a bunch of days later, but more tests were needed, and on the fourteenth, the day I was supposed to leave, I was held back in the hospital for I got a small fever that morning. I feared I would return to my depression, as I cried all morning long and argued heavily with my nurses and my doctor. But the head transplant doctor, a very nice lady of genious level intelligence felt sorry for me, and knew just how much I wanted to come out of the darkness to get some sense of independence back, and she brought me a baby Norweigan Ridgeback with an egg. It consoled me. And it showed me that she really DID care for her patients. Because she too cried with me, and that's against her contract. Then I left the hospital. Went back home. My mom and I however, had other plans. I wanted to see the world to remember what it looked like. And now, keep in mind this is strictly forbidden for patients such as I, who were fully inmunosuppressed. Avoid crowds, avoid going outside. Cover yourself against the sun. They sound easier than they are. Trevor also visited me once I was home, and we celebrated friendship and my birthday. Late, but at least I got time to spend at home. Thanksgiving came, and the whole family came. We were supposed to have dinner together, with some friends we had made in Seattle. But on thanksgiving day, I fell ill, and screwed my mom's plans. She spent a week planning it, along with my aunt. I felt really bad, but it wasn't really my fault. I was sent back to the hospital for observation, for a week, which turned into two weeks, and then into three. I was starting to think I wasn't going to be home for Christmas. But I was released the twenty first of December after a horrid experience in the hospital. I was just about done with all that ####. For Christmas, I got tons of comics, Batman figures, and dinosaurs. By now, my aunt had left. So we felt rather alone. But we were together still. Then 2001 ended. I don't think I've had a more exciting year up until now. 2002 wasn't going to be any easier.
	Introduce a little Anarchy. Break the Established Order And you get chaos. And the thing about chaos...it's fair


Emperor Dinobot	Apr 27 2008, 11:26 PM Post #3
Tonight, you'll break your one rule... Posts: 8,465 Group: Moderator Member #17 Joined: May 6, 2004	2002 began rather...uncomfortable. My family fell into turmoil as some of my relatives simply do not understand the stress we were going through, or were probably just as stressed. I don't want to get into any details, but let's just say it could have been disastrous for us. See, my dad had a heart attack. But we got through it. Thank God. But my faith in my family started diminishing after this happened. As for my medical life, there was one problem the doctors noticed on me, something that could have been a threat according to some studies being done at the time. The main transplant doctor was worried that I had a foreskin. An especially tight one. According to the studies aforementioned, there was a higher chance that a boy with a foreskin could get an infection than one who is circumcised. And so we went on with the ceremony. Let's just say that it did wonders to my sanity, and my pride, according to all the mind games chemicals were playing on me. No regrets, though. I still think it was done for the best. But I did not talk to Trevor in a month. And yet, my silly mother told his mother everything, thus violating my privacy in a very big way, and my relationship with people started to change then. See, Trevor's mother has a very inquisitive nature. Her dialog consists of a question and answer thing. No answer meant no conversation. Also, I began having insulin injections in order to control the tons of prednisone I was receiving during the whole ordeal. I went on a no carbs, no sweets diet early during the transplant, but the worst part was having to be poked on my ####ing fingers 3 times per day, and if my blood sugar was high, I'd get a ####ing insulin shot. This went for like a year and a half, until my prednisone was lowered. Speaking of pills, After the transplant, I was taking up to 24 different pills, and I had a tendency to vomit each one of them, every morning, which created an acid reflux problem that still haunts me to this day. And my pseudo-chemical diabetes became my worst enemy. I returned to school, and had a private tutor, who taught me not to die in Math, along with other things that saved me later on. But they did not last forever. I had fun, none-the-less. I was strictly forbidden from socializing with other kids. I remember before I left Pullman, while seventh grade had already started, I took a tour at Lincoln of who were going to be my teachers in case I ever returned...I started realizing that it was going to be impossible. February dragged itself along as there were talks about me possibly going back to Pullman in that month or the next. Surprisingly, I got to enjoy my life a little more during February, and the prospects of returning to Valley Crest in Pullman kept me happy. But work on me wasn't done yet. And so it came in March. I was finally sent home. But I was sent home with infusions and crap. My mom was basically trained as a personal nurse. On March 24th, 2002, I left Seattle, and returned to Pullman. I made my return at six PM, and met with Trevor and his parents, and my own at the airport. They had balloons, and I looked like a freak. My hair had started growing back, but I still covered it with a snow cap. Trevor was busy with seventh grade, which I was missing due to my being weak and tired all the time. I was lonely, and depressed, but happy that I had helped my cousin meet the man she loved and eventually married, according to a prophecy...yes, it was prophesized that she was going to meet a great man outside of Venezuela. Don't ask me how this prophecy came to be, but, it was a rather miraculous event. But I was now getting lonelier than ever. And I lay on my back for a long time. Then came summer. I started seeing Trevor a little more often, and we continued being great friends. He had composed a poem about me for Mr. Johnson's class, about how great I friend I was and about how corageous I was. I have no doubt that I took a toll of sanity on him, and that he really did love me like a brother. But come summer, I began having extremely sharp pains in my stomach, and soon they got so bad, I felt I was about to implode. Once again, I was faced with death. As I was transported in an ambulance for the third time to the hospital, I started blacking out temporarily, and though anesthetized, my pain was very very sharp. Again the silly male british nurse told me that there was absolutely nothing they could do for me, and a ambu-plane came to pick me up and take me back to Seattle for treatment. I remember my parents faces in tears once again, as my mom and I flew to Seattle, with me facing death once more. I was surely a goner. Once in Seattle, I was transported to the Children's Hospital again, met with some familiar faces who were called at night, and...total darkness. Just...darkness. Five days later I awoke to find a Foley in my dick, and a tube inside my nose reaching my stomach, absorbing all the hydrochloric acid I had produced. I was also heavily infected with stuff that usually kills patients quicker than you can say "Oh noes". And with my weak mental state, I still got up and asked "what the hell is wrong with me now"...but no matter how many times I pressed the ####ing nurse call button, no one would be there, not even my mom. Eventually they all returned, but everyone insisted in treating me like a ####ing child, and tell me to calm down and give me kiddy explanations of what had just happened to me. But my mom hit me with a dose of reaism. "You had a seizure. Everyone thought you were a goner. I don't know how you're alive. But we've been praying heavily, and we all love you for your ability to never let go" Then I was told I had something called Pancreatitis and that it wasn't induced by my omeprazole binge five nights ago to make my acid pain go away. And so I spent my entire summer in a Hospital. And I began to show a darker side of mine I had never expressed. I began insulting people. Nurses, doctors, mom, dad, everyone. Calling them names, calling them incompetent fools, and asking them to please tell me the truth. In reality, no explanation was easy, so everyone kept their silence as I thought I was succumbing to madness. And the tube I had in my dick was starting to piss me off to an extreme, so I made a deal with my nurses and told them I was just going to get better, get out of bed, fight depression and eat and drink and not barf my ####ing pills every morning IF THEY TOOK THE ####ING TUBE OUT. And they did. Now I could get up in both ways like a normal boy should. But I still felt very violated. My bladder hurts just thinking about it. I also sent a note to Bernie, about how my hair had grown red once again. So much for experiencing puberty, or normal boy crud. I was too busy fighting for my life. Once I was released from the hospital, we moved to Pete Gross House for a bunch of weeks (You can stay at many places that get you to the hospitals quickly and stuff, but this was the one closest to SCCA, and everyone wanted to stay there). I was once again fighting depression, because we had moved into a small studio room. My drugs prevented me from thinking clearly and I had reached a point where I was actually taking psychiatric drugs in order to help me feel happier and with more hope. But since I wasn't truly depressed, all the pills did was make me even MORE depressed. I was so depressed, I stopped moving, stopped eating, stopped talking to people, and stopped caring. I wanted to go back to Pullman. Another concern at the moment was that Spiderman was premiering, and I really wanted to see that. I was a source of excitement, but I was worried that I would miss it just like I missed Harry Potter and The Sorcerer's Stone. At least my mom and I grew closer together, and obliged me to speak to Trevor once again. My mom would take me out whenever we could, facing risks, just to put on a happy face. At night, we would lay on the bed for half an hour at seven to watch our favorite Telenovela, called "Amigas y Rivales", which translates to "Friends and rivals", which was about a bunch of prep school girls who got in the naughtiest of situations. We liked the theme song, and all the little things these girls would get into. It helped me develop a sort of bipolarity in my brain that was the only way to fight the walls closing in on me. During the morning, I was sad, crying, depressed, vomiting, and just...dead, but at night, me and my mom were laughing and giggling like a pair of drunkards while I tried to get my appetite up by eating Strawberries and Salami. We spend almost a month in that apartment, and I returned to school once again (It was downstairs, so it was uber accessible). My favorite part of the telenovela was the the evil murderous ##### who wanted to kill them all ruined her ex boy friend's father's wedding, by pouring poison in all the drinks, and leaving a recorded message on a pig's face that fell out of a potpurri of flying paper and rice. I laughed for an entire week straight, and thus ended my depression. Telenovelas aren't as bad as some people suggest. For weeks, I negotiated my return to Pullman with my doctors, but after what almost had happened to me, they were skeptical. But I was eating, I was kind of happy, and I REALLY WANTED TO GO BACK JUST TO WATCH SPIDERMAN BEFORE IT LEFT THE THEATERS. Upon my return, I found out Spiderman had left the silver screen, and fell on a depression because seventh grade had also ended, and I didn't get to say goodbye to a few friends of mine who were not to return next year. Qucikly, we made amends, and got me a tutor in the form of Patti Greenberg, who coached me and kept me company while I rebuilt my brain, so I could return to school while I was still in eight grade. And yes, you could say I skipped a grade. Most kids my case re-do their year, but since I was a genius... 14th birthday. I spent it at my cousins' apartment in Steptoe Village, with her husband who was readily welcomed into the family. And Trevor and his mother. He was quite cold and uninterested. So I invited him for a walk outside. He was paying more attention to the numerous pre-winter squirrels than he was to me, and this confused me and pissed me off in a way. But it was ok. Really. In December, I prompted my mom to come up with a tradition in our town, which was to mage a huge gratefulness party with typical Venezuelan Christmas food, and while I was still sick and going numerous times to the hospital, we carried out our plans, and it was a success. Then came Christmas, and the end of the year. 2003 began. I was still coached by Patti Greenberd, and gained a good perspective on life by February. Then my dad decided that we had to move to a house, or another place, because his sabbatical was technically over. And for months we looked, until we saw a developing area next to the High school. I persuaded my mom to look into it, and thus she persuaded my dad to look into it. We had enough money to make a new home. But we were still skeptical about it. But then I convinced my parents on how we deserved a better life, and that since I was doing better, we could finally start having a normal life. And so we ordered a house built in 1905 NW Bella Vista Drive. And I returned to school. My return to school was that of a hero. My old friends had taken me back, and made new ones too. While I did not go for the whole day, I was quite able, and made many good marks as my eight grade ended. But things did not go the way I expected them to go. Trevor grew increasingly silent around me, and preferred to spend less time with me, as he made new preppy allies, made Neil Patton a friend, and proceeded to leave me out systematically from cool young teenager things. I was very confused, and sensed that war was going to begin at any moment now. But I wanted to test out our friendship, and monitor it, because it was losing life. At least my old friends, Mike, Stephen, and Keri took me back. We had formed a small band of rogues, including Irene Kang, Katie H, and Chuck Paul, who would later prove that his friendship was one of the strongest ever. And so I did not go through the end of Middle School alone. And I was starting to see Trevor for who he really was, or was starting to become. One of the most painful moments were when we were supposed to do a group project for English, and he had not waited for me to fill out a spot, and told me rather coldly "You should be here every day if you want to take place in things like these". And I ran out of the classroom, crying, and embarrassing myself to all who saw me. Then Stephen caught me, and helped me regain my composture. Stephen was a worthwhile ally and a good friend. Or so I thought. And then eight grade ended. I was still a hero, and I had begin a very friendly relationship with Kaelin Gilcrest, who moved that year sadly, Keri, Mike and Stephen. I knew that they'd be with me no matter what. That summer, much of my toy collection came back to me, and I proceeded to fill the new house with it. I still kept contact with Trevor, but I was starting to think that our friendship wasn't as strong anymore, and I cried every night thinking that my whole ordeal had been a waste of time, and started getting increasingly paranoid when I thought about Trevor and his new friends. Then I was absolutely certain that he was no longer my friend, when he stopped calling me, stopped inviting me to his house, and ceased all forms of contact with me, which resulted in a very lonely and depressing summer. On the fourth of July Celebration, he saw me multiple times, and made no effort to say hi to me. But my mom and his mom were still best friends. And I was lonely. Was any of it worth it? Why was I losing what I had once held dearest? Why was I losing the one person who helped me get through with it all? Why was all of this taking place? What did I do wrong? Was I too annoying? Too childish? Too demanding? Too serious? I was sick for God's sake! SICK! I couldn't smile at all times! High school was about to start. I just never saw it coming. And I cursed it on the first day. Not one of my wisest moves.
	Introduce a little Anarchy. Break the Established Order And you get chaos. And the thing about chaos...it's fair


Emperor Dinobot	Jun 16 2008, 10:58 PM Post #4
Tonight, you'll break your one rule... Posts: 8,465 Group: Moderator Member #17 Joined: May 6, 2004	I saw the sun set for the last time on the Twenty Sixth of August, I think, of 2003. I was anxious to see what High School was about, but I felt as if I weren't ready at all to face it. I felt like a child still. Of course, my peers had a way of letting me fell and know that I was a child, and that either I grew up, or got caught behind. The first few months were rather stable. I forgot to mention that a year before, I had my hickman line replaced due to an infection that threw me into bed for like a month, due to my low pain thershold. As High School began, the pin that held my line in place was obvious, and well meaning people always asked me what was with the bulldog clip. While most of my peers remained amicable for the first part, there were always one or two #######s who think it is their life's purpose to make others feel miserable, or below. And Freshmen are experts at putting people down due to their hidden loser selves. They can't cope with being rejected by upper classmen, so they reject and treat others their own grade as if they were below them. But I had my own problems to deal with. Every week, for two days, I was missing school, because I had to go to the hopsital in order to receive a treatment known as Photopheresis. All my pseudo-diabetes had died out before we even built the new house, so this was my new concern. Photopheresis is a uv light treatment through a cutting edge machine that draws all your blood out in 6 cvcles or so, and separates the white cells from the rest of the blood, and applies UV light to them. One of the major problems with non related matches in Bone Marrow Transplants is that the grafted while cells often attack its host. Graft Vs. Host disease, it is called. I can affect your connective tissue, your organs, your skin, your eyes, and so on. Usually show up as rashes, or the predisposition to illness. There's many medicines that control it (Again, Prednisone), but Photopheresis was simply my best bet with technology. I received it for almost two years, and I assure you, that did wonders to my grades. But...I still think I could have done a better job. It got impossible after I was betrayed. But before that, while I still had friends, I turned fifteen. I invited a group of people to my house. Keri, Stephen, Mike, Chuck, Katie, Ander K (My mom made me invite him, what a boring, cold hearted boy...), and Trevor, who was expected to come, or his mother, who knew nothing, would be insulted. And we had a great night together. I thought the year wasn't gonna go as bad while I had such great friends. Eventually they all dispersed. And I was proven wrong. When you're a freshman, you're invited to an assembly that gives you the lowdown on High School life, how you should approach it, and how you should try to enjoy it while you can. At such assembly, I sat right next to Mike, who was still my friend. Stephen had begun to secede from my companionship, because, he like most of everyone, saw me as a simple child. And he was also pursuing Keri. Neil Patton and his doggie, Trevor, of course sat together, and before the assembly began, Neil Patton gave me some really rude comments and alluded to my being a girl. I was very insulted. I asked Mike, who was a witness, to do something, but he said it was my problem and that I should none-the-less deal with it in a disastrous manner, but he wasn't going to help. But what hurt the most was to see my former best friend laugh along, and do nothing to help me. It felt like a thousand knives pushing into my hearts, creating a chain reaction that caused me to die inside. My skin became grey, and I once again felt my flesh being ripped apart alive, my nails growing no longer, and my vision become blurred. Then the current freshman counselor began her ramble about how they and we were going to try to make this an enjoyable high school experience. I then saw that everything, everything that my life was up untill then, was a lie, and that good people were liars, two faced, sycophantic phonies. And my life began to crash. But I wasn't going to go without a fight. I went up to the counselor's office, and used her words against her. "You know, that I too want to try to make this a enjoyable experience, and knowing how my life is, that's gonna be pretty hard. But I want to...tie up some loose ends" I accused Patton, his cliche, and Trevor, for being a traitor. The principal then followed up, and this damaged Patton's already damaged life even further, on my behalf. While at the time I felt no pleasure in doing so, I now realize that going over this makes me happy and proud, to have aided in someone's destruction. But he struck first. An eye for an eye. As for the traitor, I was now convinced he was no longer a friend and that I was to be alone from then on. So his mom was called to school, and...whatever happened that week, it was reflected in my mom's shocked face. "It's like they ALL hate you! WHY?" After that, I started showing my evil self more frequently, leading to damaged pieces of furniture, bitten off tee's, holes in the wall, and slipping grades. I was depressed. And my mom, like me, fell into a deep incurable depression. Still bombarded by illness. Still bombarded by insanity...There was no stability at all! I spent the rest of the year living in a world of hatred, paranoia, and had gone far beyond into a dark train of thought that would never escape me. When I realized it was too late for me to get A's in most of my classes, I gave in, and stopped worrying. Anything less than an A no longer felt as if I had been stabbed with a lightsaber. But I was outcasted, by those I trusted the most. And they continued disappointing me for the rest of the year. In art, I was good. My best class in fact. Trevor and I shared the same class. He was funny, witty, adorable, and annoying. I wanted to get rid of him. And he wanted to get rid of me, because I embarassed him. But I spent some time building allies among the upperclassmen. I was already rejected by my own class, the class of 2007, and this would not change for three more years. But the pain remained. Trevor's betrayal had simply thrown me into an eternal turmoil. During classes, I would sleep in order to spare myself from pain, and while I was rudely awaken most of the times, I tried hard. I was criticized heavily for drawing dinosaurs, by everyone, even Trevor (whom I taught to draw few years before). And I reveled publicly in the room. I said "I'll stop, sure, I'll freaking stop, just to make you happy. We'll see how it goes. Just to make you happy." But my teacher, Mrs. Busch told me that one draws to fullfill his own self, not other people, and that I should continue drawing for my own amusement, as long as I did my assignments. And never worry about other people's criticism. She was right. But his friendship paid off, as in December of 2003, his mom sent me a generous donation. His JP Carnotaurus, Quetzalcoatlus, Thrasher T.Rex, and a complete Stegosaurus. That's all that remained. The thing that drove us close was no longer a reality. And he continued to stab me with childish insults. Ironic, isn't it? My greatest enemy was the one who started me on my biggest lifelong passion. But since Dinosauria never betrayed me, I was not going to betray dinosauria, like his weak being did. While depressed, my long term goals were unaffected, and I still wanted to become a paleontologist. So then 2004 began with little pomp or circumstance, and turned out to be pretty uneventful. We were still depressed. And then the first part of the nightmare was finally over. I had a rather enjoyable summer. I went to DisneyWorld again with my dad, just to...I don't know. Reward me for all my hard work, and my...sacrifices? What sacrifices? My entire ####ing sanity was sacrificed for mere crumbs. That year was a ####ing failure. But Summer was still good. I actually traveled around. Amazing times. St. Louis was unforgettable. As my Sophomore year waited just around the corner, I realized I had built more fans than I thought. While not exactly friends, I had numerous allies all over town. This was a good sign, and with it, I risked my life once again as my sophomore year started. Just to make a long story short, I was ill for most of the time. My C's were now D's, and I struggled to keep them that way for the rest of the year. Trevor and I no longer spoke to each other. My friends could no longer help me. Mike and I, however, grew somewhat closed the year before and the current one, but his life was one of complications, and I was still blinded by hatred and disappointment after the Trevor episode. It was an obsession, a autotrophic hatred that never ceased. Hatred against the world, myself, and all the current circumstances. But the worse was yet to come. My sixteenth birthday came and went. I was usually very excited for my birthdays, but, it became redundant that year. I planned to invite some people at least, but none of them showed interest, and left me to my own. I tried closely following all of my friend's dramas, always providing a shoulder to cry on. But no one came forward. My senior friends no longer existed. Strange thing about those seniors. They had shown me great kindness. I guess it gets passed onto the next generation. December third, 2004. We were called to the hospital, to meet with the doctor, who had ordered X - rays some days before. She had cross referenced all my previous X- rays and noticed that somethig was off in my right lung. My mom and I had plans to get wasted at Toys R Us after the meeting. I was planning to...uh...contribute to my collection's growth in the form of Bionicles, Transformers, Robotic figures, Dinosaurs, and whatever I could get my hand on. Yes. I still liked Bionicles. Something about them just...hooked me. And Transformers was a long held fetish of mine, but I was always too poor to afford them. While my life sucked, I was rich, in a way. So at the doctor's office, she dropped the A-Bomb on us. I had a floating piece of flesh in my lung just...floating around. A pulmonary sequestration. She said that it was a risk for infection, and to get rid of the risk, it had to be removed. And that we had to schedule a surgery, a major surgery soon. Our day was ruined. I cried all night. I returned to school to tell people I was going to be absent for a month, or two. They said they'd help me. But all the new freshman sophomore counselor told is that they'd send me the homework over there, so I could do it while I had a gaping hole on my backside. No biggie. It's so sad when you realize people just can't fathom what sick people go through. To them it's all a game, a system. There's no emotion, no care, no compassion. Do your ####ing assignments, or you'll have to stay as a super senior. #### him. #### his sandals. January came. 2005 had begun. It was cold. School had begun once again, but this time there was something different. There was an air of desperation, and I could feel the ship slanting towards its front. This ship was officially sinking, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The date was set, and I had nothing to do but fear. But the semester was ending. The night before the big day, It was midnight and I still hadn't done my Biology project, which was far too complicated, ever for me. I had the biggest fight with my parents ever. It resulted in me breaking a computer monitor, and making them a deal they couldn't refuse. Either they helped me, stopped screaming at me, or I was gonna give up and try hard not to wake up after the hole was made. That shut them up. I was now gaining notoriety as an irresponsible boy with bad work ethics. Oh well. I could explain it and blame it on my illness. Then came January 27th. I went into the hospital, got admitted, and had my dad finish my project for me so he could send it to the ##### in Biology the next day. The next morning, I was promptly taken to the surgery room, and I was given a cute teddy bear to hold. Everyone was nice to me. I felt pathetic admitting that I felt good being there. But then, I started to feel terror like never before. And I got up and tried to run away, like I did when I was a kid, running away from all the pokes. I was captured, held down, and I complained about how I was unsure about this, and how we should think it over. Then I screamed, as they injected beautiful white milk into my veins. My screams dwindled. And then there was the all too familiar blackness I seemed to delight upon. Then, I screamed again. And again, and again. I had no idea how long time had passed, but I had a tube reaching into my lung, about five different aches in different parts of my body due to unreliable veins, and something was missing. My hickman line! Where did it go?! The pain was overwhelming. I asked again and again that I should be given more morphine, but nothing. To no avail. My old teddy bear watched me suffer and twitch upwards violently trying to deal with my pain. I simply cannot...explain how overwhelming the pain was. Only drugs would cure it, and toys. My brattiness never diminished. A month later, after fighting pain, and insanity, I went back home, promising the doctors I'd try to get better. The pain was still very much a killer. I couldn't be up for too long. But I was drugged enough to make a short toy run to my favorite store. There was nothing to be bought. I already had everything, but it was fun. I tried really hard to walk, stand straight, and look happy. Upon my return to my beautiful home, I was received by my cousin, who had come to help take care of us, and my sister, who anxiously awaited my return, but I told her I could not play with her in a while. I went to my beloved basement, just to find an abnormally large mountain of paperwork. All the stuff I had missed. Naturally, being the crybaby that I am, I started crying, and cursing, but then the pain returned, and I had to stop before my anger threw me back into a hospital bed. I was offered to return to school the next day, with all my homework done. Honestly, do they think I went to the hospital to party and have sex with the nurses? I waited, and waited for my pain to go away. I was still scared. And had developed a new vice: Nasal spray. Since It was winter, and I could not blow my nose (Or else it would REALLY HURT), I took up nasal spray and became best friends. I returned to school unnoticed, tired, and went there just to sleep. I decided to not do any of the homework. I was now in full D's. Even art. I had no friends, no company, and when the hotter days arrived, I was a very lonely boy. A hurt boy. Pain was my life, and I was starting to embrace loneliness. Oh well! at least since I didn't have my hickman line, I could take my shirt off and sleep only wearing shorts! It was rather comfortable. But each time I looked at the mirror, I saw the nine inch scar that eventually became the site of my biggest poisoning yet. I had no faith in my fellow human beings, and I had given up on school. While I was not going to fully fail, I was gonna stay afloat and wait for someone to pick me up. And then came Willy! Willy and I were close friends. We shared two class together, more than with anyone else. He, like me, was a sad lonely boy in need of company. We both complemented each other well. I still had a number of allies alive after the big battle. I was glad I could rely on a limited number of people, such as Scott, Chuck, and Willy. But my friendship with Willy was short lived, as he left for Moscow. But not before he and I started making plans of a possible takeover of the school... And so Sophomore year ended. It was the worst school year thus so far. And I have a gigantic scar to prove it. I craved revenge. And nothing was going to stop me. Revenge became the fuel in my blood, my sole drive. I had become the monster I had swore to fight all my life. Nothing else meant anything anymore.
	Introduce a little Anarchy. Break the Established Order And you get chaos. And the thing about chaos...it's fair


Emperor Dinobot	Sep 8 2009, 07:49 AM Post #5
Tonight, you'll break your one rule... Posts: 8,465 Group: Moderator Member #17 Joined: May 6, 2004	I realize I never finished this story. So...a year later after me writing it, I must finish relating the events that happened between 2005-07. I'm gonna be honest with you. I am a big big movie fanatic. I love watching movies, at the theater, or elsewhere. And I was anxious, VERY anxious to watch Star Wars, Episode III. Revenge of the Sith. I am gonna be honest with you. I took a lot of things out of that film, and applied it to real life. I have been compared to Palpatine in the past. Except I'm not ever. My future plans didn't involve any evilness whatsoever. It was just the potential takeover that was to be done in a similar fashion... But I was a Sith. Anyways, Summer od 2005 came, and along with it came my cousin, Maria, to stay with us, and do her senior year of high school here. Her parents sent her to us because they wanted her to get out of Venezuela for a little bit, and since she is legally American, she wasn't going to have any problems here whatsoever. And I was glad to have some company, and a helping hand. And loyal influence in my life. The first few months were nice, but I was getting an inkling into her abusive ways. She would hit me in the head, anime style, as if I were a cartoon character. She started disrespecting my various boundaries. But I didn't care, as long as it made my parents happy. Then my Junior year in High School began. I started fine, with various trump cards under my sleeves. But my cousin's attitude had changed, and I finally could see that she wasn't really going to be an ally of mine. She made efforts to make sure people didn't know we were related at all, and she treated me as if I were a dumb short child, and went the extra mile to tell all my family in Venezuela that I was a sad little boy outcast that nobody love. But I was still blind. That year I also came in contact with a horrendous ##### by the name of Van Arsdel, who would be my English Teacher for that year, and the next year. Everything from this point on is subject of debate, by me, and my family. Everything that happened here is based on well-made assumptions, some proof, and a lot of anger. I was planning to finally join various groups at school, the theater club, and I was more open than before. I shook a lot of hands, made many friends, and sat comfortably around people. But then I became sick on October. I developed a herpes zoster infection in the roof of my mouth, my nose, my eye and my left tear ducts, just as I was going to join the Theater Club, and while I was feeling confident once again. A month lost proved to be rather fatal. And the target area in my face hurt like hell. I grew quite deranged while at the hospital, and even told my love interest, Keri, via a game of numbers, that I truly did love her and offered both of us happiness. Naturally, I was rejected, but oh well. I had bigger fish to fry. This time, when I returned to school from my ordeal, I was not received as a hero, but as a loser. And Van Arsdel criticized me for not turning in a month's worth of work. She was the mother ####ing ##### who missed the meeting between my parents and counseling, which was the yearly meeting that led to many "put him on different plans, help him, his life is uncertain ah ah ah". So I tried explaining her that I was in the hospital, but all for no avail. And I have little doubt that my cousin had made sure, somehow, that she would be an enemy. I tried hard to get back in the game, but one month at the beginning was much too much for me to handle, and I struggled really hard with school. Then I gave up. I also realized that my cousin had taken possession of my basement while I was gone. Her unreliability was also killing me. I had put her in charge with bringing me History materials home, but she did none. All she did was pay attention to her stupid friends, and that stupid dumbass Alex. As the days grew darker, I didn't stop thinking about the past, and became a self absorbed, monstrous mass of sheer hatred. And then I let myself go. I was not inhibited at all, due to my drug problem. It seemed to happen over and over again, as in the past I was addicted to oxycodone and oxycontin, to ease the pain, physical or otherwise. One day I was simply sitting on the couch, watching TV with my sister, and my cousin. She liked setting traps in where she'd look like the good guy, and make me look like a villain. She is known to have done that to other people, so she had a sort of notoriety. And she was especially good. So we were talking about movies and she got somewhat pissed at me because I hadn't seen A Beautiful Mind yet, and reproached me heavily for it. I don't really know why anyone would reproach anyone for a movie, but I blew my cover and screamed to her, completely transformed in body and soul, and screamed, and screamed. I had done this before in my life, but nothing like this. It was pure hatred, as if it were an element. But my fights with my parents grew worse. I wasn't doing well at school. I was offered to go to a different school, offered psychologists, psychiatrists, but I refused them all, because deep down I knew I wasn't crazy. And she proceeded to accuse me with her family, making it look like she was helping us too much... I dealt with it in self destructive ways. I made more than one hole in the wall, grew distant from my family and friends, and did nothing but hate. Then she tried to take over MY basement. So once again I screamed. And I confessed to my parents that I wanted to throw her out before she killed me. I felt like a schizophrenic patient. But there was mounting evidence that she was screwing me up, inside the home, and outside. She also tried turning Keri against me. She cut so heavily into my territory, I was no longer able to jack off without fear, because she was silent like a cat, and I had no locks. You could never hear her coming. She also had very acute hearing, so she would always be listening, especially in a house where you can hear everything. While I was sick (Or as the school would say "partying with nurses"), I missed picture day retake, so, we were sent by the school all across town to a chick who was going to take them for us, and send it to the school's system (For ASB cards, and yearbook). So we took care of it, I was still very sick, very weak, and it was very cold outside. Keep this event in mind. We then sent it to the administration, so they'd keep it in their archives. Some time later, my picture was returned to me. It HAD been through the Info Tech teacher's office, who was ultimately responsible for it. As the year saw its last days, I tried hard to live with "The #####" as I started to call her. My friends were no longer friends, and I had very little allies left. It was like they stopped caring. So I gave up on school. The year 2006 began cold, as usual, and I tried to celebrate my lung surgery the day it was, so I tried keeping happy, but...I had even started to forget about my big plan, it was so far-fetched, I just...gave up. And then I failed math. The single first and last failure I'll ever go through. The rest of the year kept pretty much the same. I was still very much in trouble. But Chuck pulled me out of it, and we began conversations on how I could rule, give it back to the people, and not just the ASB and their self representatives. I began to notice a trend in Mrs Van Arsdel's class. She fostered sycophantism. She relied on pusilanimous students, who would do nothing but suck up to her. And sure, they worked hard at it, but it was just them who were getting the grades. I started hearing rumors about how the previous year some things had happened, and was shocked to learn that Cameron Evans, who was going for the top, was screwed in Van Arsdel's class because he "didn't participate enough" AKA sucked up enough. And the mystery began to unravel. I also made a new friend that year, Joel B. Who also told me to go ahead with my plans (Yes, I outlined my plan for him). So it began. Keeping it secret from my cousin, I gathered as many allies as I could, and began to spread the word. Then I acquired a sheet that if it is filled by fifty people, you are allowed to run for Class President. And I was going for the Senior Class of 2007. My sheet filled out rather quickly, and I quickly submitted it, as the ASB Presidential elections began between two of my class' best. Reed Michaelson, who was a titan on his own might, and my rival in English, and Beth Smith, who was on my side, sort of. I spent days getting people on my side, and then Bethany won. Reed, defeated, sought to run again, against me, and against the other Titans I was competing against. Raquel Marcelo, a cold hearted person who would have been nothing but trouble, Joel Turtle, who was Raquel's male counterpart, and Reed, who was a better guy than those two. And me. I felt like nothing could stop me. Then, I met with the other runners, for different offices. Trevor was one of them. He was going for Council Rep. I told him that he needed to win, and not Katy Jo. Katy Jo, while sweet, was everywhere, and she needed to stay out of the picture for a while. She was simply very ambitions, and then she told me she wouldn't vote for me. So when the day came, I voted for the right one, though he lost. But before that happened, Chuck and my posse came up with forms to let the public know I was running. I made posters, which he graciously posted all over the school. I also came up with a gigantic pizza party, in which I bought 16 pizzas from Lil' Caesars, and had all the class of 2007 meet in the courtyard. I had this theory that people would give their souls for a single slice of pizza. I also took advantage of the absentee votes, and the scatter votes that would come when the day arrived. And then the day came. I did the Hugo Chavez thing by prompting others to vote AT the lines. And they voted. They voted right, too. I was anxious. I was told by my parents numerous times that I shouldn't react negatively if I lost. They weren't confident in my abilities, or maybe they were just scared. I was scared too. By now my cousin knew of my plans, and acted as she could care less. But doing this would show all the people, all my enemies, Trevor's mother, Maria, her parents, her mom (who was visiting) that I wasn't the sad, depressed outcast they all thought I was. This was revenge. Revenge against the school for their lack of help. Revenge against my peers, who caused nothing but trouble. And revenge against heaven, for letting me down so many times. I had to get something back, for all the sacrifices, all the blood lost, all the pain, all the tears...something I needed to have control over. Then, on sixth period, while I spoke amicably with the upperclassmen who shared that class, and Michael McNamara, and the nice teacher guy, the candidates got called to the office so we could know the results. I walked towards the office, and I arrived first at the ASB co-ordinator's office. Then they all began to pour in. I was the underdog. I prayed. I hoped. First they began reading off the lower classmen and girls. Then they proceeded to mention the next officers who would rule the class of 2007. Council Ex. Rep: Katy Jo Secretary: Kyle Kinard Vice President: Hafsah Al-Hassan. Senior President: Reed, Joel, and Raquel, and everyone else held their breaths. They were all in the same circle of friends, so they cheered for all except me. "I'm not sure how to pronounce this name, but Louis, Luis, You're the new Senior President" I couldn't believe it. Nor could they. Their jaws dropped, and they all started to congratulate me unenthusiastically. I was laughing hysterically inside. So then we were sent off back to class. I walked humble at first. Then I screamed and laughed as I reached my Economic's classroom. So then, Michael McNamara asked me "Did you win?" I feinted crying for a bit, and whined heavily. "Yeah, I did. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!!!!" Then the announcements came on, and the voice of the morning started announcing the next ASB Officers. I was in. I was finally in. I was ready to do whatever it took to truly rule the school. As my name was said last, I could hear rumbling at school. It had been a mostly cloudy day, but suddenly, beams of light shone in the windows, and the rumbles, and screaming continued as I was congratulated by the class. I saw the sun and appreciated it for the first time in three years. Of course, no good day is a perfect one. As I left school, the yearbooks were ready, and I went to pick mine up. I was congratulated everywhere I went. The expectations on my win were higher than they should have been, and I was an instant celebrity. I had finally won. I passed my cousin, who made an effort not to notice me. And her friends congratulated me. But she said nothing. I wanted to end her life right there. But...that shouldn't have been an option. Then I opened my yearbook. WHERE WAS MY ####ING PICTURE?! THE ONE I SENT?! WHAT DID THEY DO?! WHERE WAS IT?! WHERE IN THE WORLD WAS MY PICTURE?! WHY DID THEY DO THIS?! COULDN'T I ENJOY MY ####ING VICTORY?! I enjoyed it, none-the-less. Then, after saying the day's good byes, I entered my mom's car. I followed the same routine with my friend minutes earlier. "Oh mom, I...uh...don't know what to tell you. I don't think you're gonna like this..." "Yeah, I won." And I did. Then I proceeded with the bad news. And so we came home, I was congratulated by my cousin's mom (she's the one who took care of me in Seattle, by the way), and proceeded to sit for lunch/dinner. My cousin also came home. And then I accused her friend Alex, who was indeed senior yearbook staff, because...well...I had no one else to blame. AND SHE DEFENDED HIM BECAUSE HE'S GAY. What does his sexuality have to do with this? I continued to hurt her, in front of her own mother, and for the FIRST TIME since her arrival, my mom helped me. I was happy, because I now had the ####ing town in the palm of my ####ing hand, and because in a week, Maria would stop bothering my life, as she was going to graduate. I was still let down by the school, but this was the last time they would ever do so. Even Van Arsdel had no reason but to congratulate me and look at me with cold, evil eyes, wondering why her beloved Reed had failed. I let the school know they had failed me by forgetting conveniently about my picture. The info tech teacher's days were numbered, as she left the next year. I have no doubts this affected her, because now I had unlimited power. Now that I had won, I could continue my rampage, and my personal issues. I was jealous, because Keri had fallen in love with the flattest, coldest boy in the world, and I told her she was going to be disappointed eventually. I was right, but she didn't listen. My cousin held a party in our house, and invited all her friends, who congratulated me. The graduation was a boring ceremony. But my loyal sensors kicked in, and I even cheered for her when she went up the podium to leave my life. Mike and I grew distant. But I grew closer to Keri, once she realized I was right. I kind of liked that. Maria left my life for a long time, and I was finally able to rule my castle again. But as my beautiful summer began, there was trouble up ahead. And I started worrying again. But you can't disagree with the fact that up until then, that was simply the greatest achievement ever. I was the one true king at last.
	Introduce a little Anarchy. Break the Established Order And you get chaos. And the thing about chaos...it's fair


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