Well this is obviously my first entry. I'm not that experienced with diaries/journals, so I'm at a loss as to where to start. Guess I'll start from the beginning and thoroughly cover everything thats taken place in my seventeen years of life that's worth mentioning, an autobiography I suppose.
Unlike my more fortunate, would be sibling who was aborted a few years before me, I was flushed from my mother's womb one late thursday night, Febuary 16th, 1989. At my father's request I was named after him and my grandfather, James Earl Adams III, the third in a trilogy of failures. It's not a name I carry with any pride, as my grandfather (On my father's side) was a drunken racist who beat his wife and kids regularly, oh, and he threatened to kill me several times as an infant.
I came home to a jobless family that was ill prepared to support itself, let alone me. My father who had recently kicked a crack habit supported us by begging off family members and neighbors...That worked surprisingly well until we were evicted. By some means unknown to me we acquired a second house, which we lived in until I turned five. Most of my memories of that place are foggy and incomplete, but most of them were happy...I also learned quite a bit through that time. I learned that magic wasn't real, I learned that I wanted to be a paleontologist (Though I called it a 'Dinosaur hunter'), I learned about death when I fed one of our 11 cats to my dog, I learned that you can't kiss your mother like they do on T.V., I learned that people can be cruel.
Through the fog, I remember being at a store, getting a new Transformers toy. I remember my mother racing me home telling me that something bad had happened. I remember sitting in the car looking on through pools of tears as a massive conflagration painted the night sky orange with fire, all while I clung to my new toy. I remember the morning after, searching through the ruins, finding the scorched corpses of 8 cats. I remember not having anything to call a home but the charred frame of a house which hung above a melted, blackened pool of plastic, wood, bones, and ash. I remember being afraid for the first time in my life. But above all else...I remember the smell.
The fire was started by our next door neighbors..Whom had had a verbal confrontation with my father as I vaguely remember. I believe it was my grandmother that gave us the money we needed to rent a new house. 414 Como street. My father took his dream job back up, a truck driver making deliveries all over the country, the same job which he had for the last few years, which left me for awhile there vaguely unsure who he was as he was away from home for months at a time.
I lived there until I was nine, we had three dogs, one I found as a pup in an alley, the other two I picked out years earlier at the kennel. We also had the two cats that survived the fire. Alot happened in those four years. While there I visited James Earl Adams the first in the hospital. First time I'd seen him in eight years; he said he never wanted to see me again..He didn't, he died a week later. My mother started homeschooling me there. I think that may've had an impact on my psyche, as it left me out of public school, and left me living a reclusive life at home, where I didn't associate with anyone my age for many years to come.
My parents had an effective system worked out. My father drove his trucks, sent most of his paycheck home, which we used to pay the bills and fill the fridge. That worked fine until my father decided he didn't want a family anymore. With that, he was no longer inclined to send money home, and the landlord was no longer inclined to let us reside on his property. And so the situation was as follows: Fathers disappeared, mother's crying, relatives are refusing to help, or even take us in, and before you know it..We're sleeping in a car.
The pets went to various caretakers, three ran away, one died of old age, and one was shredded by a dog.
Now we enter one of the foggiest points in my life. Several years of homelessness, my mother pleading with my relatives for a place to stay. We left most of our belonings in storage, which we lost since we couldn't pay the bill. Originally we just slep in the car, but eventually we moved into a shelter. We could only stay there for..Some length of time, I don't recall, and then we'd have to leave for three months, for the while we were there my mother got a job, and saved up a fair sum of money, so that when they eventually kicked us out we could stay in a motel. That cycle went on for awhile, motel, shelter, motel, shelter. And on occassions car. It was during this time that I did alot of growing up. My mother wasn't in the best of health, she never has been. And I became rather paranoid over her health, especially after she broke her leg. It was during those years that I went through that horrid phase that every child goes through, when they first realize that their parents aren't invulnerable deities. I began asking myself what I'd do if she died, my answer was that I'd attempt suicide at some point. Despite all I'd been through, I still had some desperate desire to give life a chance, and so I promised myself that I wouldn't even entertain the thought of suicide until I was 20.
On occassions I'd visit my grandmother. And it's there, in her place that I touched my very first computer. I had a natural fondness for pokemon, and I'd googled some random pokemon name. One of the top three links was a chatroom, and it's in that chatroom that some random person joined and posted the link to P&Rs. That..One link changed so much..One of the most significant points in my life. P&Rs was a nice..RolePlaying driven chatroom, it was there that I met my first friends, people I still know very well today. It was also there that I met 'Maxie'...Heh..But we'll get to that later.
Anyway, I added the site to the favorites list, made more and more trips back to my grandmother's, and spent every moment I was there on p&rs, whether the chat was full or empty. When my grandmother died I knew I wouldn't be on a computer again for many years to come...And so in my chicken-scratch handwritting, I scribbled the address for p&rs down on a scrap of paper which I kept hidden away for years. I spent every day from then on dreaming of returning to p&rs.
Eventually my father showed back up, he had a big bag with a dollar sign on it, so we didn't have any other choice but to accept his appology. To save money for the time being, he offered to let us come with him for his next couple delivery trips. And so I lived in a tiny truck-cab for a few months. I finally got to see where father went for months at a time. I went through half of the continental states. I spent a birthday (don't recall which) in New Mexico, saw snow for the first time in Colorado..Saw the ocean for the first time in California, god I loved that sight.
When I came home my father got a job that'd let him stay home, and he helped get an apartment. My parents put me in public school, same middle school my father went to. Martin Luther King middle school. I entered the sixth grade a year late. It was the first time I'd spent any real time around people my own age. Those three years were horrid. I don't know what my crime was except for being alittle different, but whatever it was, the punishment was harsh. Daily beatings and constant taunting was all I had to look forward to for three years. I remember I cried my first day of school (Along with a few hundred others). In the seventh grade I got a computer of my own..My mother had been saving up for one since she saw how happy my grandmother's made me. And for awhile I returned to p&rs and all my glorious friends.
The very summer I had gotten out of middle school, my father lost his job, and well...We got evicted again. Only this time due to the complexity of family politics back then, my aunt took us in. It was during that summer that I'd lived with my aunt that my views on...Everything crumbled. Until then I'd been a good Christian boy, but somehow I almost all at once came to notice all the flaws in religion, and began taking a more agnostic approach to faith. Later on I'd become a full blown atheist, completely apposed to the concept of a 'God'.
After that summer I split ways with my father again, he went to live with his brother, my uncle, and my mother used her tax-return check to get a new apartment, which is where I'm living right now, that was acouple of years ago though.
So now for the last two years of my life. Well, I started going to Highlands highschool, it's a place where I thankfully don't have to worry about getting beat until I bleed from every hole, but I'm still an outcast, and my nearest friend still lives hundreds of miles away.
My aunt didn't have internet, so I ofcourse spent a few months away from my friends after being evicted. But upon my eventual return I re-met someone I hadn't seen in a few years, Chloe Nicole Summers. The girl I've thought about literally every day since the December of 2004. We had a long distance relationship.
I don't really want to talk too much about this, so I wont go into too much detail about our relationship, but I will say this...She is everything I've ever wanted in life, she is a girl I would've and would still give everything away for without question...I love her, unconditionally, I always will...I know how this might sound coming from your average 17 year old, but I'm not your average 17 year old..What I felt for her was real.
You know how my life seems to be full of bad experiences? All of which I'm not even mentioning? Well...Nothing hurt as bad as when she left me, not even everything combined into one massive lump of suffering. I cried every other night for months, hell, I still feel like crying on occassions. We still talk now and then, though I wish we wouldn't. I love her company, even if it's just as a casual friend, but having her around aches in a way I can't even describe to you..I miss her..I miss what we had...
...
Anyway..I waste my days away now aimlessly..I live in a dump of an apartment with my mother. I'm brought to tears both by my fear of the future, and my longing for the few happy times I had in the past. I have no plans for my future...But you know that promise I made to myself? Well..I'm seventeen, and the closer I get to age twenty, the less my 20th birthday seems like the completition of a promise and the chance to really begin my life..And the more it seems like a set date to die.
Well..That's my life up to now..
I may be back later to revise this alittle and add some of the content I left out.
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