I'm near 20. 5'6". I have deficits in several areas of intelligence crucial to everyday function. I have a broken nose. I've never been with a girl in any sort of way. I live with my parents and I resent how stupid they are. I was genetically gifted everything that would have led to a prosperous and satisfying life and every single trait was systematically stripped away from me through abuse and neglect.
My parents are both doctors. Don't let that fool you, they are far from smart now. Some combination of early onset dementia, alcoholism and brain injury. We should have lived comfortably but unfortunately even when doctors, Indians are frugal.
My dad measures at 5'11 and my mom 5'3". Going off of a height calculator I should have been 5'10". But children of Indian immigrants who live in the West are typically taller than this average because of Western diet and lifestyle. Other Indian friends are all 5'10-6'2 even with parents shorter than mine.
I was deficient in nutrition and sleep throughout my childhood. I never had my own room or bed until it was too late at around 16. In early childhood I had to sleep with my parents who would be on call and often wake up in the middle of the night. In elementary and middle school I had to sleep on the floor in my sister's room, who is 8 years older than me and had an erratic sleep schedule. Even when we moved I was not afforded a room and slept on the futon beneath my sister's loft. If you don't know how important sleep is to overall development including height then you probably never had to worry about it. Growth hormone is released in deep sleep. Sometimes I think I was a mistake but I know my dad wanted a boy.
I was also kept on a vegetarian diet while my sisters both could eat meat. It's not a religious thing it's just when I was younger I liked animals and so I guess it's sort of my fault. I am the same height as my sisters. For breakfast I was fed nutella and bread. Lunch was whatever the school served minus the meat. Dinner was lentils and rice, every day. I was severely lacking in protein.
I should have had my own room. I should have been able to sleep 9-11 hours in my development years. I should have been eating hot dogs and meatloaf and salmon, or at the very least eggs instead of sugar slathered onto what breaks down into sugar.
Despite this I had stellar academics. School was a complete breeze and I had accelerated 3 grades in math, in the 4th grade I was in our school's 7th grade math class. There were talks of me jumping a grade. I was involved in local math contests by virtue of a teacher at my school and I was winning. I took a test to get into a prestigious middle school and got in. I then took a test to get into one of the most highly-regarded high schools in the US and got in. An infamous exam resembling an IQ test parents would pay thousands for their kids to prep for and I had just taken it and gotten in. Probably gonna get doxxed since that school pumps out depressed suicidal kids in unmatched numbers.
School was fine for a semester. Quickly made friends and had all A+s. I then fell on the back of my head ice skating with a friend. I blacked out and was out of school for a month. Reentry was difficult, everything was difficult. It was hard to talk, write in coherent sentences without a lot of deliberation. Math was monumentally hard when it used to be my strong suit. I had Cs and Bs. I had to take extra time on tests. As months went by I felt I may have been slowly improving but childhood brain trauma is said to halt brain development as well as affect other bodily systems, like create hormonal imbalances. Unfortunately even if I had a new deficiency in growth hormone it would never be tested for. In fact I didn't have a hormone panel for years. So much for my parents being doctors. It was a surprise for me to learn that doctors were held in such high regard because a. we grew up as if we were always on the brink of poverty b. my parents just...didn't have much medical expertise.
If you've ever had a concussion you'd know doctors are useless. There is no official treatment for it. Now there are experimental chemicals available through alternate channels which I've ordered. If they don't work I'm killing myself, but even if they do I still have many other problems. I'd rather have just died that day than woken up. Any disease or injury to the brain is more grave than that to any other region of the body for a very simple reason: you are your brain. The rest is just a flesh suit your brain controls. Your potential is stripped from you. Your humanity, if it were measured by an index, takes a nosedive. Your ability to visualize is impaired or sometimes gone; your dreams are less interesting. You may speak with a stutter. Your working memory and processing speed are nuked so everything that requires more than 2 seconds of thought now becomes proportionally harder to think about. You feel like less of a person. Connecting with people is harder or impossible. A guy at my college killed himself because he suffered a concussion and became almost autistic he couldn't connect on any level to other people.
The next year I was taunted, jumped and beaten randomly by a gang. Second concussion. I was probably 5' or 5'2 at the time and I wasn't the only person I knew to fall victim to the same shit. Why? I can't speak to the origin of this celebration of violence within AA culture, the circumstances that surround it or its socioeconomic complexity. But I can bet that the violence that is rooted into and propagated through its media is a cancer that's holding its people back. I don't see an end in sight and it's difficult to talk about so nobody does. The songs will continue to be digested and violence and crime will continue to be glorified. It's hard to undo damage inflicted upon generations of a single race even with the most progressive of policy if the culture was founded in the wake of that damage. I had had a couple more concussions in between but the most recent one was the one that broke the camel's back.
My dad punched me in the face. For accidentally breaking disposable earbuds. After the fact my mom tried to tell me nothing happened, that I had dodged the punch and I didn't have a concussion. But my eye and my brow hurt. I had a cut on my eyebrow. My mother said. You gave that to yourself just now. She told me right after I'd been punched in the face, with blood coming out of my eyebrow and an ice pack pressed to my face, that I had cut myself to fabricate a scene. When I got back home my sister yelled at me for ruining their vacation. How was CPS supposed to help if I couldn't say anything because I was under the influence of my parents' threat and gaslighting? And even if I had the fortitude to speak up I would have had my entire life uprooted and get sent to a home.
I don't understand. I don't understand why these people are my family. I wish there was a licensing system to bring a baby into this world. Like with adoption or sperm donation, there are standards that parents must meet to ensure quality of life for the child in question.
My dad had also broken my nose before but I'm not going to get into that too much, except to say it severely affected me and served as the onset for my debilitating OCD. My face was probably somewhat attractive because I would receive compliments and get approached from time to time. Ive lost all confidence since then. More than my appearance though is the fact that I can barely breathe due to the deviated septum. It's hard to fall asleep and just function in rooms that don't meet conditions of humidity and ventilation. Few rooms do. Guess what. If I opt for surgery to correct the septum I'll probably face even more cognitive deficits because of how surgery affects the inflamed, senescent brain. Post-operative cognitive dysfunction is studied generally in the elderly. But the mechanisms by which age causes neurological deterioration are the shared with TBI.
I have lost any semblance of intelligence I may have had in high school after the initial concussions. I have lost my inner voice. I have lost the ability to read people, understand clusters of gestures, tics, phrasing and predict their behavior. Movies and shows make little sense anymore whereas before I could at least follow along and make sound predictions. I also simply do not think anymore. I am unable to. I just can't form a thought. Words don't string together in my mind. I can't hold an internal monologue because I forget what I'm thinking while trying to think. Trains of thought falling off a cliff. I am unable to connect to people in person because I cant communicate on any deep level because of this. I used to hold some hope that I could improve. Time has run out. My motivation to repair my brain and life waxes and wanes and but the wax is running low. The valleys are stretching farther. I constantly forget what I'm doing in the middle of doing it. Every single task, regardless of scale. When I read sentences, paragraphs, I can only see words. I can't really process them into coherent ideas, never on the first try. I can't understand even simple concepts without much deliberation, rereading, rewinding. While I have always been forgetful, it is now debilitating. I am unable to learn. I seem to be unable to form new memories and completely incapable of recalling old ones. And after the latest concussion my gait has changed. I feel awkward and off-balance. I can't even fucking walk properly.
Last year I had been talking with a friend of mine from a summer camp about an app idea I had that I wanted to work on with him. He was enthusiastic and said me reaching out after all these years was serendipitous because he too was looking to drop out of college. He convinced me to fly over to Cali and we signed a lease for an apartment. After signing but before even moving in he bailed on me and decided he wasn't dropping out just like that. So I was holding the bag for a two bedroom apartment in Westwood, Los Angeles. when i try to ask for the half of the money back he tells me it's my fault for convincing him. I had finally thought I was going to make a change in my life and start on a positive trajectory. Just fucking lol. Between him and another friend I'm owed $3k and that one doesn't even read my messages anymore.
I'm a college dropout. Short, disfigured and effectively disabled. I have been rejected for my height and in another instance, "because you're Indian." And yet when the opportunity presents I fumble before I even get the chance. I have literally biked away from girls asking me for my number. It was an instinctual reaction, fucking fight or flight. The one time I had a shot with a hot girl in college coming onto me heavily she was involved with a friend of a friend and I decided I couldn't. Potential and opportunity manifest only in holographic form, tormenting me with what could be mine. I feel cursed. I cut all of my 'friends' off because they as a group used to exclude me from everything even when I asked. High school was a lonely fucking time. Also I've been struggling with ED for the past 2 years but I think it's related to my severe depression and anxiety. What haunts me isn't my current pathetic condition, but how drastically it's changed for the worse since birth. Could have been so many things. Oh well.
My parents are both doctors. Don't let that fool you, they are far from smart now. Some combination of early onset dementia, alcoholism and brain injury. We should have lived comfortably but unfortunately even when doctors, Indians are frugal.
My dad measures at 5'11 and my mom 5'3". Going off of a height calculator I should have been 5'10". But children of Indian immigrants who live in the West are typically taller than this average because of Western diet and lifestyle. Other Indian friends are all 5'10-6'2 even with parents shorter than mine.
I was deficient in nutrition and sleep throughout my childhood. I never had my own room or bed until it was too late at around 16. In early childhood I had to sleep with my parents who would be on call and often wake up in the middle of the night. In elementary and middle school I had to sleep on the floor in my sister's room, who is 8 years older than me and had an erratic sleep schedule. Even when we moved I was not afforded a room and slept on the futon beneath my sister's loft. If you don't know how important sleep is to overall development including height then you probably never had to worry about it. Growth hormone is released in deep sleep. Sometimes I think I was a mistake but I know my dad wanted a boy.
I was also kept on a vegetarian diet while my sisters both could eat meat. It's not a religious thing it's just when I was younger I liked animals and so I guess it's sort of my fault. I am the same height as my sisters. For breakfast I was fed nutella and bread. Lunch was whatever the school served minus the meat. Dinner was lentils and rice, every day. I was severely lacking in protein.
I should have had my own room. I should have been able to sleep 9-11 hours in my development years. I should have been eating hot dogs and meatloaf and salmon, or at the very least eggs instead of sugar slathered onto what breaks down into sugar.
Despite this I had stellar academics. School was a complete breeze and I had accelerated 3 grades in math, in the 4th grade I was in our school's 7th grade math class. There were talks of me jumping a grade. I was involved in local math contests by virtue of a teacher at my school and I was winning. I took a test to get into a prestigious middle school and got in. I then took a test to get into one of the most highly-regarded high schools in the US and got in. An infamous exam resembling an IQ test parents would pay thousands for their kids to prep for and I had just taken it and gotten in. Probably gonna get doxxed since that school pumps out depressed suicidal kids in unmatched numbers.
School was fine for a semester. Quickly made friends and had all A+s. I then fell on the back of my head ice skating with a friend. I blacked out and was out of school for a month. Reentry was difficult, everything was difficult. It was hard to talk, write in coherent sentences without a lot of deliberation. Math was monumentally hard when it used to be my strong suit. I had Cs and Bs. I had to take extra time on tests. As months went by I felt I may have been slowly improving but childhood brain trauma is said to halt brain development as well as affect other bodily systems, like create hormonal imbalances. Unfortunately even if I had a new deficiency in growth hormone it would never be tested for. In fact I didn't have a hormone panel for years. So much for my parents being doctors. It was a surprise for me to learn that doctors were held in such high regard because a. we grew up as if we were always on the brink of poverty b. my parents just...didn't have much medical expertise.
If you've ever had a concussion you'd know doctors are useless. There is no official treatment for it. Now there are experimental chemicals available through alternate channels which I've ordered. If they don't work I'm killing myself, but even if they do I still have many other problems. I'd rather have just died that day than woken up. Any disease or injury to the brain is more grave than that to any other region of the body for a very simple reason: you are your brain. The rest is just a flesh suit your brain controls. Your potential is stripped from you. Your humanity, if it were measured by an index, takes a nosedive. Your ability to visualize is impaired or sometimes gone; your dreams are less interesting. You may speak with a stutter. Your working memory and processing speed are nuked so everything that requires more than 2 seconds of thought now becomes proportionally harder to think about. You feel like less of a person. Connecting with people is harder or impossible. A guy at my college killed himself because he suffered a concussion and became almost autistic he couldn't connect on any level to other people.
The next year I was taunted, jumped and beaten randomly by a gang. Second concussion. I was probably 5' or 5'2 at the time and I wasn't the only person I knew to fall victim to the same shit. Why? I can't speak to the origin of this celebration of violence within AA culture, the circumstances that surround it or its socioeconomic complexity. But I can bet that the violence that is rooted into and propagated through its media is a cancer that's holding its people back. I don't see an end in sight and it's difficult to talk about so nobody does. The songs will continue to be digested and violence and crime will continue to be glorified. It's hard to undo damage inflicted upon generations of a single race even with the most progressive of policy if the culture was founded in the wake of that damage. I had had a couple more concussions in between but the most recent one was the one that broke the camel's back.
My dad punched me in the face. For accidentally breaking disposable earbuds. After the fact my mom tried to tell me nothing happened, that I had dodged the punch and I didn't have a concussion. But my eye and my brow hurt. I had a cut on my eyebrow. My mother said. You gave that to yourself just now. She told me right after I'd been punched in the face, with blood coming out of my eyebrow and an ice pack pressed to my face, that I had cut myself to fabricate a scene. When I got back home my sister yelled at me for ruining their vacation. How was CPS supposed to help if I couldn't say anything because I was under the influence of my parents' threat and gaslighting? And even if I had the fortitude to speak up I would have had my entire life uprooted and get sent to a home.
I don't understand. I don't understand why these people are my family. I wish there was a licensing system to bring a baby into this world. Like with adoption or sperm donation, there are standards that parents must meet to ensure quality of life for the child in question.
My dad had also broken my nose before but I'm not going to get into that too much, except to say it severely affected me and served as the onset for my debilitating OCD. My face was probably somewhat attractive because I would receive compliments and get approached from time to time. Ive lost all confidence since then. More than my appearance though is the fact that I can barely breathe due to the deviated septum. It's hard to fall asleep and just function in rooms that don't meet conditions of humidity and ventilation. Few rooms do. Guess what. If I opt for surgery to correct the septum I'll probably face even more cognitive deficits because of how surgery affects the inflamed, senescent brain. Post-operative cognitive dysfunction is studied generally in the elderly. But the mechanisms by which age causes neurological deterioration are the shared with TBI.
I have lost any semblance of intelligence I may have had in high school after the initial concussions. I have lost my inner voice. I have lost the ability to read people, understand clusters of gestures, tics, phrasing and predict their behavior. Movies and shows make little sense anymore whereas before I could at least follow along and make sound predictions. I also simply do not think anymore. I am unable to. I just can't form a thought. Words don't string together in my mind. I can't hold an internal monologue because I forget what I'm thinking while trying to think. Trains of thought falling off a cliff. I am unable to connect to people in person because I cant communicate on any deep level because of this. I used to hold some hope that I could improve. Time has run out. My motivation to repair my brain and life waxes and wanes and but the wax is running low. The valleys are stretching farther. I constantly forget what I'm doing in the middle of doing it. Every single task, regardless of scale. When I read sentences, paragraphs, I can only see words. I can't really process them into coherent ideas, never on the first try. I can't understand even simple concepts without much deliberation, rereading, rewinding. While I have always been forgetful, it is now debilitating. I am unable to learn. I seem to be unable to form new memories and completely incapable of recalling old ones. And after the latest concussion my gait has changed. I feel awkward and off-balance. I can't even fucking walk properly.
Last year I had been talking with a friend of mine from a summer camp about an app idea I had that I wanted to work on with him. He was enthusiastic and said me reaching out after all these years was serendipitous because he too was looking to drop out of college. He convinced me to fly over to Cali and we signed a lease for an apartment. After signing but before even moving in he bailed on me and decided he wasn't dropping out just like that. So I was holding the bag for a two bedroom apartment in Westwood, Los Angeles. when i try to ask for the half of the money back he tells me it's my fault for convincing him. I had finally thought I was going to make a change in my life and start on a positive trajectory. Just fucking lol. Between him and another friend I'm owed $3k and that one doesn't even read my messages anymore.
I'm a college dropout. Short, disfigured and effectively disabled. I have been rejected for my height and in another instance, "because you're Indian." And yet when the opportunity presents I fumble before I even get the chance. I have literally biked away from girls asking me for my number. It was an instinctual reaction, fucking fight or flight. The one time I had a shot with a hot girl in college coming onto me heavily she was involved with a friend of a friend and I decided I couldn't. Potential and opportunity manifest only in holographic form, tormenting me with what could be mine. I feel cursed. I cut all of my 'friends' off because they as a group used to exclude me from everything even when I asked. High school was a lonely fucking time. Also I've been struggling with ED for the past 2 years but I think it's related to my severe depression and anxiety. What haunts me isn't my current pathetic condition, but how drastically it's changed for the worse since birth. Could have been so many things. Oh well.
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