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Part 2

Well i was telling about some thing. At 18 years old i was an runaway. I had luck the police brought me to an Runawayhome for children i was barely old enough to get in there. There an new world was opening up, from an family where an father dictate all in the wide open world. Well i shed some tears and soon i would fall in an new world called Drugs. I started with some pot, was good flying high. And soon we tryed ways to get stoned faster. Soon i was addicted, yes you can get addicted to pot. I went out to some places and i met some bikers. They were doing speed. Very interesting (Not all bikers do speed so dont blame it on the biker, blame it on me i did it) Speed what an rush. What an energy and i could drink so much with speed in my system. Normal give me an beer and i will fall asleep. After speed Cocaine, after Cocaine xtc, speedpills, Stamps (paper with hallucinating shit), Crack i did once to, was very sick the next day, never did it again, smoking heroin. The list is to long. Drugs is bad M,kay Maybe i am now so screwed up because of that. Later more.

Hmm how to start.

Well let my say that there was some point in my life when things started to begin getting real ugly. My mother always was the target of my father. He is uhm how to say it very pushy and always wanted to have his right, even when he didnt had it. On one day i didnt liked what my father did to my mum and i got in the middle. Bad choice 1: never get in the middle You know why. Suddenly you are the target and get kicked from both ends. My mum didnt kick as hard as my father, but her hand was furious and sore on the cheek or ass. Soon i had the biggest of problems with my dad and yes i was i think 11 or 12 and i dont remeber quite well, but we had an place where my dad put charcoal in. An dark place, i was there lots of times. My memory of the past is blurred and i am suffering from blocking events out of my mind. To protect myself. Now i am 38 and the blurred fragments getting an shape and form and vision. I saw my father hunt my mum with an axe. She is still alive but the memory of that. I saw my father choking her. I sometimes ask my mum why didnt you leave him, she says well your father is ill had an attaque on the brain, he cant help it. Love works in mysterious ways. I cant remember an part of my life anymore due to drug-abuse. When i was 18 years old i ran away from home. Was tired of getting in the middle and standing in the middle. when i was already down on my first Major Depression what i dindnt know on that moment, i started to use drugs. I think i will tell next time more.
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