All about......ME

-_Explanation_-

So, I'm sorry I'm not sure for how you'll feel after reading  what you are about to read. It's dark and heavy and I gotta get it off my chest...

  I was adopted at four days old. I was pretty much ripped away from my family at the time of my birth. I am able to piece somethings of my past together, but not much. My birth mom drank just about everything she got her hands on. When she was pregnant with me. And it may seem harmless. After all, I was only inside a womb...and she drank, smoked and did drugs while she was carrying me. My father, he doesn't know that I am even alive. He doesn't know he has a thirteen year old daughter. After I was adopted, I've always felt this...hole almost. That feeling of worthlessness to anyone. I didn't and still done understand why I was given up. I don't and didn't understand what sort of situation I was in. School has always been a challenge for me. I'm...special in different ways.

I've always been able to read things that an adult could read. Since I was eight. That's impossible. You might say. It's not. Really. And I have always been that girl who was alone, and read in a corner, just hoping for some friends. During this time, someone attempted to rape me. He was ten, and thought I was able to be used for that. I got away, and told my parents. No charges were pressed. Nothing. Just me being told I should have known better than that. A couple days later, my six year old brother was sexually molested. They caught the girl that did it, and pressed charges. They found her innocent though. I've always had a strained relationship with my parents. Always. They're always telling me I have to be the perfect little lady that they adopted. My younger brothers were adopted as well by the same family. We know and knew nothing about the rest of the family's whereabouts. It still troubles me now.

I  was officially diagnosed with an autism spectrum three years ago.  It's called sensory and autism disorder. Meaning..things that hurt you, they don't hurt me. Things that hurt me, they wouldn't hurt you. I can feel other people's emotions. I know what they're feeling, when they're feeling it, and sometimes I'm able to figure out why they're feeling it.  Most people would say that's being empathetic. Don't make it special. Then why am I able to tell when I'm being lied too? Why can I be the person that's hurting? Tell me. I'm curious.

I've been bullied and a loner since then. My eyesight is above perfect vision. I have this..memory that allows me to remember things from years ago. Don't tell me it's impossible. Because bitch, I am living proof it's possible.

I'm not good with letting others know how I feel. I've had people steal things from me and my parents. People I thought I could trust. My great, great grandmothers antique jewelry box was stolen from me by people I thought were friends.

I suffer from suicidal thoughts. I'm not saying I will, but...it's tempting.

My birth sister committed suicide not long ago. I only know this because of what my mother tells me about stuff regarding this topic.

I'm sorry for placing all this on you...I had to get it out...