64 replies to this topic

[Avanti]

what is your history, and how has your history formed you?

i think we too much try to fit into society. it is more important to focus on oneself, because that really matters for you.

[Shimmy]

I disagree, there is nothing more important than fitting into society and using it to your avantage. Your entire life will be decided by others, and since your main goal in life should be reproducing and having the strongest fittest most attractive offspring you can this should be your focus. Success and respect in society will give you more money and find you a more attractive mate, who in turn will give you healthy children and you will have the money to give them the perfect education and give them a chance to do even better than you did yourself. Indiviuality means absolutely nothing unless your individuality is respected and admired by society. Some people decide it's easier to try and fit in really well with one small minority of society and in turn shun the rest of society (wow players and emos). This is a very dangerous tactic and is generally regretted later in life by these individuals.

So in answer to your question, my history is irrelevant, all that matters is that i'm alive and my seed needs to be spread deep into the future.

[Sorok]

I disagree, there is nothing more important than fitting into society and using it to your avantage. Your entire life will be decided by others, and since your main goal in life should be reproducing and having the strongest fittest most attractive offspring you can this should be your focus. Success and respect in society will give you more money and find you a more attractive mate, who in turn will give you healthy children and you will have the money to give them the perfect education and give them a chance to do even better than you did yourself. Indiviuality means absolutely nothing unless your individuality is respected and admired by society. Some people decide it's easier to try and fit in really well with one small minority of society and in turn shun the rest of society (wow players and emos). This is a very dangerous tactic and is generally regretted later in life by these individuals.

So in answer to your question, my history is irrelevant, all that matters is that i'm alive and my seed needs to be spread deep into the future.

I agree (mostly) with the first part, but the last sentence I must disagree. Your personal history is exactly what makes you who you are today. Every experience you've had in your life is what defines your persona. However, your life is NOT decided by others. It is you who decides your life. And your life is the sum total of all the choices you have ever made.

[Avanti]

I disagree, there is nothing more important than fitting into society and using it to your avantage. Your entire life will be decided by others, and since your main goal in life should be reproducing and having the strongest fittest most attractive offspring you can this should be your focus. Success and respect in society will give you more money and find you a more attractive mate, who in turn will give you healthy children and you will have the money to give them the perfect education and give them a chance to do even better than you did yourself. Indiviuality means absolutely nothing unless your individuality is respected and admired by society. Some people decide it's easier to try and fit in really well with one small minority of society and in turn shun the rest of society (wow players and emos). This is a very dangerous tactic and is generally regretted later in life by these individuals.

So in answer to your question, my history is irrelevant, all that matters is that i'm alive and my seed needs to be spread deep into the future.

sounds depressing.

[Avanti]

My life: 1979 - 1990

I spent my first two and a half years in a refugee camp in Lebanon. My mom was a christian Palestinian woman. I have no memories from there and have never visited Lebanon. I don't know if my biological mother is alive or if I had any siblings.

When I was 2,5 years old, I was adopted by a Swedish couple who didn't have children, and brought to a medium-size town in middle Sweden. That was in the beginning of 1981. I grew up in a nice old yellow house, which was so bright it hurt watching it at summers. It looked as pedestrian, idyllic and boring as a house in Astrid Lindgren's stories. My dad was working in the municipality as a bureaucrat, and my mom was a nurse at the local clinic.

I kinda liked dagis I remember. Loved roaming around, climbing trees and such things. I was the happiest kid in the world, and everything was interesting, amazing and wonderful.

The problems began in pre-school, when I refused to listen to story hours, had trouble singing with other kids in rhythm and not just messing up the song by singing swear words, and also that I found the pigtails of girls funny to drag, because then they squealed and became all red in the face and started to cry and run for teachers. Other boys found me a little cool and funny, and I had lots of friends.

In primary school, I was a troublesome kid. I drew funny figures in the math book, wrote dirty words instead of the words we were supposed to write at Swedish classes, and I also liked to undress and roam around naked during a period, because it was funny to see the reactions of all the adults. I was hanging around with kids who had unemployed alcoholic parents. My best friend was a boy who's dad was in jail for battering his wife. We used to trash things together and doing pranks. I was also friends with a girl in 3d grade who was a bit of a pyromaniac. My parents disapproved of my friends but believed my behavioural problems were due to them, or due to other kids yelling racist slurs at me (it was the mid-80s and I was the only one with Arab appearance).

The turning point came when I was 11 years old. I was low-performing at school and often just decided to walk away, or to never go to school at all, instead walking around the forest or the lake, watching animals and people and just feeling the sensations. I love sensations. Doesn't matter if it's just touching something or pain. I love it!

Anyway, it felt like the world wasn't real, like I somehow was detached from the world inside my head by the false world outside. I loved breaking the rules, just to see what would happen.

It was gymnastics. I liked gymnastics. Not team sports because I sucked at that, but I loved athletical sports and swimming. This time however, the end of the fourth grade, was a warm spring day and we were playing baseball. It was a match with the parallel class. There was a girl in my class - Jenny. She was a skinny blonde-haired girl with big ugly glasses, scared eyes and braces. The other girls used to bully her because she was taller than them. The sun was shining.

I took the baseball bat, sneaked up behind Jenny and smashed the bat against her head. She feel down soundlessly, she cried silently. It was so warm. I was so happy. It felt so right to hit her with the baseball bat. I felt like the day was complete. The other kids assembled in a circle around us, watching us without saying a word. Jenny lied in foetal position. Her glasses were broken. Her face was red and she shielded it with her hands.

I smiled.

A wide smile.

Then the gymnastics teacher, not the nice female one but the big bad bald male one grabbed me on my shoulder so it hurt, and took me in his car to the school. Straight to the principal's office. The principal was angry with me, but I could not keep my focus at him. I watched the window all the time, the trees, the grass, the houses beyond the hedges. The gymnastics teacher asked me angrily why I didn't look at the principal, and I shrugged my shoulders. I felt such an inner peace.

Then I was brought home, and my parents were all but destroyed. The Ambulance had picked up Jenny! I was a monster! My mom cried! My dad came home early, he started to talk with me, and he just talked through me. He couldn't reach me. He slapped me over the face so I flew over the floor and hit my head at the frame of the door. It hurt and I got a wound. My mom rushed to me. She held me in her arms. She started to argue with dad. I started to pretend to cry, so that she would become even angrier at dad.

I would say that the incident with Jenny was the beginnings of my problem with authorities, with the school and with my dad.

(to be continued)

Edited by Avanti, 28 May 2012 - 05:32 PM.

[Avanti]

So, anyone wanting to ask questions or telling about their own lives?

[Tumaini12]

Indiviuality means absolutely nothing unless your individuality is respected and admired by society. Some people decide it's easier to try and fit in really well with one small minority of society and in turn shun the rest of society (wow players and emos). This is a very dangerous tactic and is generally regretted later in life by these individuals.

It's their choice, though. A tolerant society which values civil liberties, self-determination and equal opportunities has to accept such behavioural minorities, just as it accepts ethnic minorities and sexual-taste minorities - as long as their chosen behaviour is not harmful to others.

How many of us futurists have been bullied, or at least made to feel unwanted, because of our academic interests and recreations? To suggest that society as a whole should legitimately penalise people with artistic or intellectual tastes different to the perceived majority is at best rather repugnant; at worst, blatantly fascistic.

Edited by Tumaini12, 28 May 2012 - 09:04 PM.

[Sorok]

..... I would say that the incident with Jenny was the beginnings of my problem with authorities, with the school and with my dad.

(to be continued)

To say you have a problem with authority is not really being honest. Hitting some defenseless girl from behind with a baseball bat is psychotic. This has nothing to do with authority and everything to do with a chemical imbalance in your brain, or some deep, perverse anger-management problem.

Adopted children often experience various forms of compulsive depression anxiety. You should get help before you hurt anyone else (or yourself for that matter).

[wjfox]

It was gymnastics. I liked gymnastics. Not team sports because I sucked at that, but I loved athletical sports and swimming. This time however, the end of the fourth grade, was a warm spring day and we were playing baseball. It was a match with the parallel class. There was a girl in my class - Jenny. She was a skinny blonde-haired girl with big ugly glasses, scared eyes and braces. The other girls used to bully her because she was taller than them. The sun was shining.

I took the baseball bat, sneaked up behind Jenny and smashed the bat against her head. She feel down soundlessly, she cried silently. It was so warm. I was so happy. It felt so right to hit her with the baseball bat. I felt like the day was complete. The other kids assembled in a circle around us, watching us without saying a word. Jenny lied in foetal position. Her glasses were broken. Her face was red and she shielded it with her hands.

I smiled.

A wide smile.

Then the gymnastics teacher, not the nice female one but the big bad bald male one grabbed me on my shoulder so it hurt, and took me in his car to the school. Straight to the principal's office. The principal was angry with me, but I could not keep my focus at him. I watched the window all the time, the trees, the grass, the houses beyond the hedges. The gymnastics teacher asked me angrily why I didn't look at the principal, and I shrugged my shoulders. I felt such an inner peace.

Then I was brought home, and my parents were all but destroyed. The Ambulance had picked up Jenny! I was a monster! My mom cried! My dad came home early, he started to talk with me, and he just talked through me. He couldn't reach me. He slapped me over the face so I flew over the floor and hit my head at the frame of the door. It hurt and I got a wound. My mom rushed to me. She held me in her arms. She started to argue with dad. I started to pretend to cry, so that she would become even angrier at dad.

I would say that the incident with Jenny was the beginnings of my problem with authorities, with the school and with my dad.

I agree with Sorok. You clearly need help.

[Italian Ufo]

It was gymnastics. I liked gymnastics. Not team sports because I sucked at that, but I loved athletical sports and swimming. This time however, the end of the fourth grade, was a warm spring day and we were playing baseball. It was a match with the parallel class. There was a girl in my class - Jenny. She was a skinny blonde-haired girl with big ugly glasses, scared eyes and braces. The other girls used to bully her because she was taller than them. The sun was shining.

I took the baseball bat, sneaked up behind Jenny and smashed the bat against her head. She feel down soundlessly, she cried silently. It was so warm. I was so happy. It felt so right to hit her with the baseball bat. I felt like the day was complete. The other kids assembled in a circle around us, watching us without saying a word. Jenny lied in foetal position. Her glasses were broken. Her face was red and she shielded it with her hands.

I smiled.

A wide smile.

Then the gymnastics teacher, not the nice female one but the big bad bald male one grabbed me on my shoulder so it hurt, and took me in his car to the school. Straight to the principal's office. The principal was angry with me, but I could not keep my focus at him. I watched the window all the time, the trees, the grass, the houses beyond the hedges. The gymnastics teacher asked me angrily why I didn't look at the principal, and I shrugged my shoulders. I felt such an inner peace.

Then I was brought home, and my parents were all but destroyed. The Ambulance had picked up Jenny! I was a monster! My mom cried! My dad came home early, he started to talk with me, and he just talked through me. He couldn't reach me. He slapped me over the face so I flew over the floor and hit my head at the frame of the door. It hurt and I got a wound. My mom rushed to me. She held me in her arms. She started to argue with dad. I started to pretend to cry, so that she would become even angrier at dad.

I would say that the incident with Jenny was the beginnings of my problem with authorities, with the school and with my dad.

I agree with Sorok. You clearly need help.

Well said WJFOX !

[Craven]

My troll sense is tingling.

[SG-1]

My troll sense is tingling.

Yeah I thought that too. He is obviously exaggerating a lot of things, "wide smiles, warm blood" and the fact that he is writing in so much detail about his early past like pre-school through 4th grade.

A troll would rather go on YouTube than a small forum like this one. So it may be wjfox making an account to keep all of us on our toes lol just kidding. Anyway I don't think this guy should be here if all he is doing is talking about his screwed up personality.

I bet most of what he says has a small bit of truth in it. The other half is just to get us mad.

[stevo]

although i am sad about my past, i realize that those events in a way helped me to appreciate some things
like when my dad died of an over dose when i was 13. that event helped me to not EVER take life as a givin and to always cherish the time you have with your loved ones because they could be gone tomorrow.
Before then, if somebody was sad over the death of a loved one, i couldn't have cared less. if i had not experienced that event, i would be walking around today still not caring about life or other people's pain and would have been dead long before now.

[Italian Ufo]

although i am sad about my past, i realize that those events in a way helped me to appreciate some things
like when my dad died of an over dose when i was 13. that event helped me to not EVER take life as a givin and to always cherish the time you have with your loved ones because they could be gone tomorrow.
Before then, if somebody was sad over the death of a loved one, i couldn't have cared less. if i had not experienced that event, i would be walking around today still not caring about life or other people's pain and would have been dead long before now.

"The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen."

— Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

[Saradus]

I really hope you guys are right and he's a troll, that's just downright disturbing.

[Italian Ufo]

It is one of many on here unfortunally

[Avanti]

My life 1990 - 1991


My dad had beaten me quite bad as I said in my previous post, so I started to plot my revenge. The summer break came, and neither me or Jenny was visible on the end ceremony for the fourth grade. She lied in a hospital and I spent the days home having a really boring time. I watched lots of TV and was not really allowed outside, so I used to watch the ceiling above me or hear the birds sing.

As for Jenny, she had quit my class and moved with her family to another municipality. Sometimes today, I think of what happened to her, if what I did to her affected her and if she ever found happiness. I must admit I missed her when I saw that she wasn't present. She was kinda cute, in an ugly kind of way.

I spent very much of summer break in a village with my granddad and grandma, where I had it boring and went around in fields and watched cows and horses and other boring things. They also did not have a videogame machine (since 1989 I had a Nintendo 8-bit console, which my dad had removed as he blamed it for my behaviour).

I liked walking in the forest however, especially i sunshine. I like lying down in the moss, when its warm. Sometimes I even took off all my clothes except the underpants, imagining I was a part of nature, that the moss was slowly eating me. I also started to test climbing woods, once scraping my knee quite much.

I was not a loud kid. I was very quiet and seemingly introspective. My grandparents believed me to be shy. I liked to hide.

So, the fifth grade began.

Someone had been killing cats in the municipality during the summer break, and a rumour claimed it was me. So the first day in the fifth grade I got beaten up by a group of sixth graders, and they started to bully me, calling me "Djurplågar-Totto". So I started to avoid school, and brought a pen-knife and an igniter. I did not kill any cats that summer break, but I did kill a hedgehog by using a large stick as a club in the forest. But no one saw that.

So, one day in October 1990, I put fire to a curtain in the school, making the fire alarm go. I was feeling very smart, but someone nailed me. Because I was "sick in the head", not because anyone had actually seen me do that. I was also at school that day, which was suspicious as I never went to classes.

I tried to run away, but they eventually found me.

They had called for the local policeman, an elderly chap, and he said it was "veeeeery serious" and asked me if I knew about the cat killer. He explained for me that lots of kids could have died, and that I could have gotten 10 years in prison if I was an adult.

I wanted to speak with the school nurse. She was young, had brown hair, photo model appearance and smelled good. She talked to me with a kind voice and gave me a hug. I liked hugging her. Her breasts were soft.

I started to cry. I forced myself to cry by thinking of Bambi and other sad films. I said I was very sorry, and told her that my dad had beaten me. She told my teacher and the policeman to go away and I started to tell even more. I wanted to hurt my dad because he had beaten me, so I lied and told her that my dad used to fondle me naked.

The nurse panicked, and told me to come to her and her boyfriend's home to eat dinner and sleep over there. She called the social authorities and told them about my dad. It took two days and they came over to my home. My dad admitted that he had beaten them and they interpreted it as an admission of total guilt. My dad was also a member of an evangelical church and that was not popular in that municipality.

Both he and me were brought in on interrogations, and soon the entire community was gossiping about my dad being a child molester. He started to lose his hair, his face turned 10 years older and he lost several pounds during that, and I enjoyed it. The problem was that I told too detailed lies, I had not learned to lie properly, and my lies soon fell to pieces.

When the smoke was cleared, I was back at my parents, but my dad never more spoke to me as a friend. We were mortal enemies now. We fought like every time he and me was home at the same time, mostly because he gave me a look which revealed his contempt and hatred for him and then I either spat at him or kicked his balls and then he flung over me and started to beat me up.

I enjoyed that, because my goal was to provoke him beating me up. Pain is also feeling a lot like an emotional relief for me. Besides, mom got angry with him and gave me rewards after he had beaten me up, usually by sitting on my chest and slamming my head against the floor. Moreover, my dad got ashamed and afraid every time he had slipped, because he knew that I could get him into trouble with the authorities (the problem being that I cried wolf before and exaggerated his previous physical abuse.

My life turned into a living hell. I know you will say it was my fault, and you are correct, but it was still a living hell.

I started to steal igniters, burning down trashcans, organising fires in the school bathrooms and also attempted to burn down dad's workshop behind our house. I treated my mom with smiling submissiveness, hugging her and purring for her while constantly provoking my dad, making their marriage collapse.

So...

I met a psychologist for the first time in early 1991, and they urged special support for me at school. At that time, I started to fight with the teachers and my special assistant as well, because they forced me to be at school and I wanted to be FREE.

In the spring of 1991, I ran away. My best (and only) friend at school, a mentally retarded boy named David had a sleeping bag. It was relatively okay that summer. So I stole his sleeping bag and his backpack after sleeping over with him and headed for Stockholm. I stole some money from my mom to pay the bus ticket, and invented a lie that I was visiting an aunt in Stockholm. The teachers were used for me being late, so I had 8 hours of time to disappear.

I sat on the bus seat. There were three other people on the bus. It was dusty and the sky was mixed grey and blue, with the sun shining in my eyes.

I smiled.

I was finally free.

[SG-1]

You know what, I salute your trolling sir.

Its only a matter of time before your banned here if you start posting crazy again. Please post normal stuff, and we can all move on.

[Avanti]

I think you are afraid of yourself, because you haven't accepted yourself.

My only choice is to accept myself for what I am. It doesn't lie in my self-interest to crawl into a corner and die.

[Logically Irrational]

I think you are afraid of yourself, because you haven't accepted yourself.

My only choice is to accept myself for what I am. It doesn't lie in my self-interest to crawl into a corner and die.

Believe me, if I was you, and the stuff you posted was true, I would definitely be afraid of myself, accepted or not.