I guess you could say that the hardest part of any story is finding the right words to start it off. These introductory words can make or break the tale that is about to unfold, scaling the greatness of what is about to be told. Will happiness come from it? Sadness? Is it even worth your valuable time? I don't want to waste the time that you could be spending on something much more worthy, so I'm going to come right out and tell you now. You're better off reading something else.
This isn't going to bring you warm, fuzzy happiness, and you aren't going to learn something deep and profound about yourself from my tale. Not, that is, unless you have a very twisted sense of pleasure. I know that there are people like that out there, and they could very well read this and laugh. I've met and dealt with many types of people. No one disgusts me as much as you guys who take pleasure in the pain of others. But isn't that the whole foundation of the human race? To hate that is to hate the very core of humanity. To hate that is to hate yourself, because that sadistic and twisted personality is somewhere deep inside everyone. I truly believe that, and haven't met anyone who has proven me otherwise.
What is this story about? Simply put, this is the account of a year in my life, the one that changed everything for me. It's the tale of my junior year in high school, back when I was the beautiful and successful girl that everyone admired. Back when I was the apple of all the teacher's eyes, and all the things that happened back then. It's taken me a while, but I finally feel strong enough to put down what happened on paper. I hope this courage lasts long enough for me to finish my tale. Putting it all into words is supposed to help me heal at least a little. And god knows I need to be able to shut these wounds at last. But even if it doesn't do anything for me, I want to be able to share it with someone else, for someone to listen and learn what I've been through. And most of all, I want to be able to reach out and maybe give this strength I've gained to someone else who needs it. If someone had done that for me, maybe I wouldn't have turned out as messed up as I did. But then again, maybe someone did offer me their strength, and I just wasn't listening.
Well, I guess I should stop prolonging this, because I know that you really don't want to hear much more of what I have to say. I'm probably just lucky that you haven't stopped reading completely. I wouldn't blame you if you did. But this is the end of the introduction, and the beginning of a new story. A new story that is also one that is old and told many times throughout the ages, with changing faces and names, but basically the same as all the others. The only difference is whether you escape or not. I guess that makes me one of the lucky ones, though I've never really viewed myself as such. It's hard to, after the unlucky events that steered my life in this direction. This is the story of many. But right now, this is only one person's story. This is My Story.