My Life Story Part 8

A new sequel from part 7 of My Life story. Until next time, I hope you enjoy part 8.

My Life Story

Part 8

Prologue: The Pain That Never LeaveThere are days when it feels like pain has a mind of its own… like it knows exactly where I live. It doesn’t just visit. It returns. Again and again.

Every time I finally feel happiness settle into my chest, it slips away like it was never meant for me. Like joy is temporary, but sorrow is permanent.

Sometimes life makes you feel invisible. Like you could disappear and the world wouldn’t even notice. People keep walking, laughing, living… while your heart hangs by a thread, trying not to fall apart.

And the hardest part isn’t even the suffering.
It’s the waiting.

Waiting for it to stop.
Waiting for something to change.
Waiting for the moment you can finally breathe again.

But the cycle keeps repeating.

Will it ever end?
Only time will tell…
especially when the last breath is finally spent.

Introduction: Why I’m Writing This

Hello everyone.

It has been a long time since I started writing my next novel, My Life Story.

Lately, I’ve been dealing with depression and sickness. I’ll speak more about that later in this series, because it’s a part of my life that shaped everything.

This may be my last series for a while until I’m able to fully write again. But don’t worry. I’m going to try my best to keep going, even if it’s only a few sentences at a time.

I won’t make the chapters too long. I’ll try to write a chapter a day if I can.

So… let’s begin.

Chapter 63: The Suffering of Awaiting

Hello everyone. It has been a while since I continued this novel. A lot has happened over the past few weeks, and I’ve been putting in so much effort just trying to hold myself together.

Lately, I’ve been thinking more than I’ve been speaking. And the truth is… I learned some things the hard way.

The biggest lesson?
Not everyone cares. And not everyone is safe to talk to.

For a long time, I thought opening up to counselors and staff at school would help me. I thought talking about my struggles would bring relief. But instead, it made me realize something painful: people will listen only as long as it’s convenient for them.

I remember being at the SAOR Institute Learning Center, trying to explain what I was going through. I wasn’t asking for miracles… I just needed someone to understand. But the employee I spoke to kept focusing on one thing.

She said I was “too negative.”

The way she said it didn’t feel like advice. It felt like rejection. Like she didn’t want to hear it. Like my pain was an inconvenience. Like my life was a waste of her time.

So I stopped going to her.

Instead, I emailed another counselor, Ms. Holly. My advisor, Ms. Channy, recommended her and told me I could talk to her when I needed support so I could stay focused in school. Ms. Holly replied and told me she could meet around eight in the morning since she was always busy with meetings.

The next day, I went to her office. She was kind. She listened. I talked to her about something that had been eating at me for a long time: how hard it was for me to get my driver’s license, and how stuck I felt in life.

For the first time in a while, I felt like maybe I wasn’t completely alone.

But even that didn’t last.

Ms. Holly became too busy. Meetings. Events. A schedule full of everything except time for the people who needed help.

Later, I met another employee in the library. I don’t even remember her name, but she seemed nice at first. She listened quietly while I spoke. She told me things would get better. She told me not to give up. She told me to stay on track.

But even while she listened, I could see it in her face.
That expression people get when they’re waiting for you to finish.

That look that says: I’ve heard enough.

So I stopped myself. I didn’t want to be rude. I didn’t want to be “too much.” I didn’t want to become a burden.

And after two months of trying to talk to people, I finally accepted something I didn’t want to accept:

Most people don’t want your truth. They want your silence.

I started asking myself a question that changed everything:

What is the point of talking about my problems if people are just going to label me as negative?

So I stopped.

I kept everything inside. I talked to myself instead. And strangely… things felt easier. Not because the pain was gone, but because I stopped expecting help from people who weren’t built to carry it.

Still, I noticed something about the world around me.

People will give advice just to sound helpful, not because they truly care. Even cheerful people can be broken inside, but no one checks on them. No one stays. No one asks twice.

And that’s why I try, whenever I can, to help others. Even if I can’t fix their lives, I can at least remind them they matter.

Because that’s what life is supposed to be.

But the world doesn’t feel like that anymore.

People used to welcome neighbors. People used to talk. People used to connect. But as the years go by, the world keeps changing… and not for the better.

Everything is computerized now. Phones are replacing real conversations. Television and music influence behavior more than people realize. And the more society becomes entertained, the less it becomes human.

Technology is eating away at communication.
And communication is the foundation of everything: friendships, relationships, marriages, family.

Without it, everything collapses.

And that’s why so many relationships fail. People don’t talk. They react. They assume. They explode. They shut down.

It’s everywhere.

Violence on TV. Violence in music. Violence in games. And it’s shaping minds, especially young minds. It’s poisoning innocence, slowly, while people pretend it’s normal.

Not everything is bad… but the world is getting darker.
And I can feel it.

Chapter 64: Behind the Scenes of Deception

I never thought I would return to writing again. But so much happened in 2014, it felt like life was forcing me to either break… or become something stronger.

They say you learn from experience. They say listen to your elders. They say wisdom comes with time.

But nobody tells you how painful wisdom is.
Nobody tells you it comes from betrayal.

Over the past few days, I went through family issues that hit harder than I expected. Some of it, people blamed on me… even when I wasn’t the real problem.

Last year, during Christmas break, I stayed at my grandmother’s house for the holidays. After being there for a while, I got a sudden feeling that something bad was happening. I didn’t know where it was coming from, but I could feel it.

At first, I thought it was my mother. I thought she was upset because she found out I had been talking to my grandmother about what was going on at home.

And I did talk to my grandmother.
Because I was hurting.
Because I was angry.
Because I needed someone.

Then my mother started being gone for weeks… maybe even a month. It felt like she disappeared. And while she was gone, Joe started calling her, telling her things about what was “going on” in the house.

But nothing was going on.

The truth was simple: he wanted me out of the picture. He wanted control. And he wanted my mother against me.

When my mother finally came home from a trip, she realized there was no food in the house. The money she sent was supposed to handle that. But it didn’t.

I asked her if she could bring home snacks. I asked her if she could put money into my bank account, because it had been a while since I had deposited anything.

At first, things were calm. We relaxed. I fell asleep.

But then she refused.

She accused me of eating everything in the house. She blamed me for staying in my room too much. I tried to explain myself. I tried to reason with her.

It didn’t matter.

Later, I discovered my ex girlfriend wasn’t who she claimed to be. She lied about a lot. I finally moved on, and for the first time, I felt free from the drama she dragged me through.

But life didn’t get easier.

My mother started getting on me constantly about staying up late on the computer. Night after night. Same argument, same pressure.

One day I got tired of it. I told her I met someone who worked for Sony, a game designer, and that he was going to help me get a job so I could finally take care of myself.

She questioned me over and over. She refused to speak to him. She didn’t trust my decisions. She didn’t trust my hope.

And maybe I should’ve questioned it too.

Because sometimes in life, the opportunities that sound too good… are exactly that.

The “Friend” Who Promised Everything

One night, I logged into my PlayStation 3 for the first time in a long time. I went into PlayStation Home, a place where people meet and socialize, almost like IMVU.

That night, I got a message from someone I met online named Donald Robertson.

He came into my life when I was lonely. When I missed my old friend Jay, who had gotten married and moved on with his life. I was happy for him, but I couldn’t help missing the days when I had someone real to talk to.

Donald and I started talking more. We video chatted. He told me stories about his past, about relationships, about loss. He showed me pictures of girls he dated. He told me he was in the military. He told me he graduated college.

Then he told me the biggest thing:
He claimed he worked for Sony.
He claimed he was a CEO.
He claimed he was a game designer.

It sounded impressive. Too impressive.

But I wanted to believe it. I wanted something good to finally happen.

He told me about Japan. I told him my dream of moving there and starting over. But then he said something that didn’t sit right.

He said his wife was killed in Japan.
He said gang members did it.
He said it happened in the red light district.

The story felt strange… but I didn’t know what to think.

Then one day, he asked me for a favor.

He told me to message someone on Facebook and warn them about a threat against someone’s sister. He said he couldn’t do it himself because he was blocked from Facebook.

So I did it.

And the way he reacted afterward… it was like I saved his life. Like I pulled him off a cliff. He told me he wanted to repay me.

I told him it wasn’t necessary.

But then he offered me something I couldn’t ignore.

He promised to buy me a PlayStation 4.
He promised to buy me games.
He promised to give me a job working under him.

I waited.

Weeks passed.
Months passed.

Then one day… I got a message.

Donald was dead.

Shot and killed.

I was told he was on his way to meet me because I was planning to move out, and he was attacked on the road.

At first, I felt sick. Confused. Heartbroken.

But then another feeling hit me: doubt.

Because as much as I wanted to believe in him…
I couldn’t help but wonder if it was all fake.

If he lied about his life.
If he lied about his job.
If he lied about everything.

And that’s when the real truth settled into me:

Some people are masters of deception.
They can tell lies so smooth, they sound like destiny.

Chapter 65: Hidden Messages

Have you ever walked into a building and felt something off… but you couldn’t explain why?

One day, I went to the public library to fill out important documents and update my information. I spoke to one of the librarians at the front desk and tried to be polite.

I asked her what she did during the holidays.

She looked at me and said, “Mine was non existent.”

I tried to laugh it off. I tried to keep it light.

But the energy felt wrong. She seemed socially awkward, like she didn’t want to talk. Like I was distracting her. Like she wanted me to disappear.

Then she told me she didn’t celebrate holidays.

And I realized something:

Sometimes it isn’t what people say.
It’s what they don’t say.

It’s the way their tone makes you feel like you’re unwelcome.
Like you don’t belong.
Like you’re an interruption.

Chapter 66: Return

New journeys unfold. New enemies appear. New victories fight their way through the pain.

I’ve been through a lot since my last chapter. I’ve been away for a long time, trying to survive real life circumstances that nearly destroyed me.

But now… I’m back.

And I’m finishing this book.

To everyone who still supports me and still waits for my next series, I only have one thing to say:

Thank you.

From here on, I’ll organize my story by year. I’ll share the events, the lessons, and the truth of what I lived through.

So let’s begin.

2017: Previously

In the last chapter, I mentioned the librarian and how awkward she became when I asked about her holidays. Later, I realized she might have been carrying trauma… maybe from a spouse, maybe from a relationship, maybe from life itself.

In the United States, people are becoming more distant every year. Friendships don’t last. People disappear. Even if you’re surrounded by others, you can still be alone.

The word “friend” gets used too loosely. Sometimes people use it to reject you. Sometimes they talk to you after years, and you feel happy they remembered… until they vanish again.

2018: Then

People come and go. They show up, take what they want, and leave when they find something better.

Loneliness is everywhere. And honestly… America might be one of the loneliest places on earth.

Foreigners come here for a better life, but many get influenced by the wrong people. They start believing that if everyone else is doing something, it must be okay.

That year, I worked for Lear Corporation, a supplier for Mercedes Benz. Lear builds seats for them.

At the time, I was working as a nursing assistant. The pay was decent, but I got tired of waiting two weeks for a check, and I got tired of coworkers who wouldn’t pull their weight. Trash. Cleaning. Basic responsibilities. Somehow it always became my job.

I applied for Lear through AIDT.EDU. I went to orientation, barely making it on time, exhausted from my other job. Human Resources asked how I got into the building, and the way she spoke felt cold and awkward.

Still, I stayed.

Because to me, it felt like a new beginning.
A chance to finally save money.
A chance to finally build something.

But at the same time… my mother was making plans that felt unreal.

She wanted to move to the Middle East. She talked about Jordan. She spoke like God was telling her to go. But it felt like YouTube and other people were influencing her more than reality.

She was working as a travel nurse in California, gone for almost a year. When we spoke, she talked about moving to Africa or another state, like it was easy. Like we weren’t already struggling.

When I started the job at Lear, my body couldn’t handle it at first. My feet hurt from standing. I was exhausted.

Then I came home and found out the internet was cut off. No warning. No heads up. And I was still in school.

It felt like my mother was only thinking about herself.

Then my uncle came to town. He asked why I didn’t want to go with my mother. He asked who changed my mind. He talked and talked…

And that’s when I realized something that broke me.

My mother had been telling him my secrets.
Private things I never wanted anyone to know.
Things I only shared because she begged me to trust her.

And she betrayed it.

So I packed my clothes. I grabbed what I could.
And I left.

I blocked my mother. I blocked everyone except my grandmother.

But even that didn’t last.

My grandmother wanted information. She wanted gossip. She wanted stories to tell other people on the phone. She kept pushing me about my real father, saying he asked about me… but he never contacted me himself.

She expected me to reach out to him.

I refused.

Then I asked her if I could come back and stay with her temporarily, just until I got on my feet.

She said no.

She told me to get a hotel room and not depend on anyone.

So there I was… working a new job… and homeless.

Living in my car.
Cold nights.
Worn out shoes with holes in the bottom.
Weeks without a shower.
Barely eating.
Storing food in the trunk.

Sandwiches became survival.

Later I found out some gas stations offered showers for cheap. The first time I showered again, I felt human for the first time in months.

But deep down, I knew…

It was only going to get worse.

2019: Now… and Getting Worse

Remember when I said it gets worse from here?
This is where it happens.

After two years at Lear, working overtime 12 hour shifts, my body was drained. One weekend, my boss asked if I wanted to stay longer.

I said no.

I clocked out and left.

Driving home, I felt sleep taking over. I tried to fight it. I talked to myself. I played music. I did everything I could.

Nothing worked.

I took an exit into another city… and I crashed.

I hit an eighteen wheeler parked on the side of the road. My car landed in a ditch. The impact was so violent, I almost died.

After the accident, I was told there was three thousand dollars left over that could be sent to me… but they couldn’t release it without my mother’s consent. They said she owned the account and had full access.

Even though my name was on it.

It made no sense.

Then I found out the truth.

My mother took the money.

She didn’t call to see if I was alive.
She didn’t check if I was okay.
She didn’t care.

Once again, I was left with nothing.

I returned to work and told my boss what happened. She asked if I wanted to go home or stay.

I stayed.

Because I was already there.
And I couldn’t afford another loss.