Confession

Hi world.

This is my confession, a true one this time.

As humans we have a need to find a mate to drive our bloodline forward, but we have the need for one more thing; a pack. Whether we look for a position as alpha, hunter or strategist we feel the need to have a pack around us, unless that need is robbed from us by exile. We may call them other names; clicks, groups, gangs, even families, but when we go back to the basics we are animals, pack animals specifically. The need to fit in to a pack is so strong we sometimes neglect who we are and adapt to the environment the pack operates in and along the way we make the mistake of forgetting who we started out as. This is my story of how I lost my need for a pack by being exiled from the one I was a member of.

I had always been an outsider and quite the nerd, a title that gave me some form of contact with the others in the form that I was the go-to guy when it came to bootleg cd’s, computers, math etc. This however was never enough and the few friends I had at this time felt obsolete to satisfy my needs in a pack. And in addition I was bullied a lot through school for being a big guy, that didn’t really help the situation. Over the years I learned the art of lying without any tell-tale signs in order to get what I wanted, a dark path to walk down, but one I felt necessary for my survival in this world. It started of small with little white lies about my life, nothing crazy, just little changes to a reality I did not like too much. But as any other addiction it escalated to a level where it became dangerous. At age 17 I was introduced to an environment of parties, drugs, untamed flirting and general fun, at least in comparison to what I was used to as a geek. But in order to fit in to this new setting I felt like the geek had to die, and thereby a new identity was born, one known by a nickname rather than my real one.

This new identity was a hardened marihuana smoking, cocaine snorting half-criminal that no one would dare touch, neither verbally or physically. I created this identity to fit in to this new setting, never knowing I was essentially digging my own grave the deeper I got. Over the months my lies became more and more elaborate, involving impossible scenarios that I really knew no one in their right mind should have believed for a second. I even told them I had been in jail for 6 months for violence without my mother knowing while I still lived at home, that is just insane, even by my standards. The problem was however, no one confronted me about these stupid stories, whether it was out of stupidity or that they wanted me to come clean on myself I will never know. It wasn’t until about a year or so later things started to go wrong, not that they confronted me, they took a different approach.

Me and a friend at the time had been playing poker and I thought it was for fun, with imaginary money. But after a while he started claiming money, in small amounts first, saying I had stolen from our drug supply, making me pay for merchandise that was never missing. Then came the big blow, a poker debt of no less than 50.000kr(about $10.000) which I of course did not have, I was 18 years old and unemployed. It ended up with my grandmother paying him a little over 30.000kr(about $6.000) to get him off my back and I really thought the money thing was over. It was for a while, until he ‘’sold’’ my debt to a guy he owed money too, but that was a while later, and things happened in between those points in time.

After this all went down I developed anxiety and a condition called Agoraphobia, a fear of big places with many people, like shopping malls, stores etc, but it evolved to me not going out at all. My family brought me what I needed and picked up my packages from shopping online, I was afraid to go outside for a long time. Now, I had been wondering about going away for a special school for a while, and decided to take action on this idea. I went away for a year, cleaned up from drugs while I was there and even lived a normal life for a while. Then it was time to go home, home to a new city about an hour away from where I had lived for 18 years. My mom had decided that we needed to get away from that past and start over, but I still had lingering fear for going outside.

In time I worked on this fear, exposing myself to real life a little by little, constantly looking over my back for people wanting to hurt me. Now I have been working at a hardware store for about a year, until the government didn’t see any reason to have me there on their budget any more. So here I am, looking for jobs, hanging out with my wonderful girlfriend and blogging, not a full and satisfying life, but I’m getting there. When it comes to my life in a pack though, that need is gone for good I think. I have never told this story before, but now I think it’s time it got out.

Hi, I’m unknown and this is my confession..

Sincerely,

Unknown