Since I can not recall the first seven years of my life, I'm not really certain how much I should tell you, or where I should begin, as it's all sort of blurred (like the picture).  I guess the best bet is to start with the obvious.  As you can see from virtually all the pictures on this site, I have scars over approximately 30% of my upper body, including the chest, arms, and face.  At the age of seven years, my own mother decided that I was evil, impure, and needed to be killed.  Pouring lighter fluid all over her defenseless son, she set about the task of setting her eldest child on fire.

Needless to say, I survived.  Shriner's Burns Institute was able to revive me, and repair the lethal damage over the course of a four month hospitalization.  They couldn't erase the scars - physical or mental - and when the investigation proved inconclusive, they couldn't even prevent the state from remanding me back into my "loving" mother's custody.

After my return home, things just got worse.  To this very day, I can still hear the gasps of horror from the rest of my family when they laid eyes on me.  I still see how the children at school shirked away from me - and even worse - I can still feel every blow from every bully (including my "mother") who realized that the reconstructive body braces left me vulnerable to attack.

I took several years of the abuse, from without and within.  Finally, I thought that I could take no more - and I came forward with what was happening to me, confessing all to a teacher.  She did what she could - she informed the proper authorities, and an investigation was opened by child services.  However, my mother put on her angel mask, and again I was left to her increasingly brutal care, now fueled by her anger over my "betrayal" of her.

By 16, I had taken all I could.  I left home, and did my best to survive day to day.  I knew by now the important lessons about life that would define me.  Society could care less about me, and that by nature, people are abusive, hypocritical asses.  No one wants to help you, and the system just doesn't work.

It's taken a long time for me to recover, to get my feet under me.  I've decided that the time has come to give back to society what it gave to me - rancor, venom, and hate.  It's time for ME to show society - that includes you, my mother, and all the people like her and you - exactly what its flaws are.  Unfortunately, you can't teach society a lesson with intellectual debate, or any amount or arguing. 

The only way to teach you is to destroy something.  And often.  There is no other way to affect change in this country that will work.

Lock up your children.  Hide your pets.  But most importantly, pray to whatever god you hold dear.  Pray that your heroes - those symbols of your ideals, the paragons of your virtues - the representative forces of all that is flawed with society - don't cross my path.  Pray that, when I meet them, they leave the confrontation in better shape than I left the confrontation with my mother.

And then, learn that praying will do you no good.

 

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