♥xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxnarr! it's TOFUTIME
if you were dead or still alive; I don't care, I don't care.
just go and leave this all behind; 'cause I swear, I don't care.
just go and leave this all behind; 'cause I swear, I don't care.
uhm.
so I'm Tofu.
you can call me Missa if you so feel inclined.
I pretty much joined a while back, but then sort of unintentionally ignored the guild-scene for a while, and have decided to resurface.
I guess this is where I tell you about myself, and in theory, that would be a pointless task -- I could talk about myself for hours, and you still wouldn't have a clue about who I really was.
I'm nineteen, terrified-of-turning-twenty in July.
I spent most of my life living in the hole in the ground in Nova Scotia, and re-located to Moncton, New Brunswick a little over a year ago.
You might have seen me around before, and kudos to you if you have -- because you probably already know my story.
At 13, my parents called it quits after they spent most of their marriage cheating on each other, my mother drinking herself numb, and my father never being around/gambling all of the family's money away. My reaction? Typical. I blamed myself, and therefore, started cutting.
At 15, I went to see a psychologist about my cutting, found out I was depressed. Go figure, right?
Therapy didn't last too long, I was good at pretending to be OK as a teenager.
At 18 things got real fun. Went to University, left after four days, came home, and at the end of September, my depression had gotten so bad I decided to try to take my own life. Epic fail. All that resulted was a mandatory psychiatrist visit and a prescription of citalopram. Everything is fine? Not so much. Mother picked up the drinking again after a couple years sobriety, her boyfriend started selling drugs out of our house, and I never knew what to expect living with them.
... and then I decided to do something for myself, packed up my s**t, and moved 200 miles away to Moncton.
Of course, moving to a new, big city, brought upon new issues -- anxiety and panic attacks. So after some trips to the hospital, a prescription for ativan, and a ridiculous hallucinogenic side effect, I'm still trying to figure out how to manage life with the cards I've been dealt. maybe we can be friends?
