Is this a sad story? (my life story)?
Hi, Im 60 and lonely. I wrote this story for you all. Its an autobiographgy:
I was born in 1948. I had 3 brothers, and 1 sister. They would always make fun of me and one time they put me in a trash can and threw me down a hill. What they didn't know what that there was a broken bottle in the trash can and it cut up my face.how tall is adele
I needed surgery, but my scars have never healed. That was when I was 6.
Primary school was hard. Many would make fun of me for my scars. One time a kid took a lighter and lit my hair on fire. It burned my scalp and I had severe scaring to the point of hair not being able to grow at one part of my head.
I made it through primary school. Middle school was worse. I was called "baldy" and "scar girl" and one time a kid him me in the face with a board. It broke my nose. I tried to walk home, but fainted because I was so scared and fell down a hill, breaking my arm. Nobody noticed me for 8 hours, at which point it started raining. I eventually was taken to the ER where they tried to help, but I had gotten hypothermia in the rain and almost died.
My arm had almost frozen, and I lost all feeling in that arm.
Highschool was terrible. I was asked out to home coming by a boy, but he did it as a prank and threw nails at my face when I went to his door. blood dripped down my face, and I ruined my dress, which cost $400. Senior year, I was hit by a car full of classmates because they thought I was ugly. It broke my ribcage, and I almost died from internal bleeding.
I decided not to go to college, because I thought it would be worse. I ended up getting a job as a maid, but my customers would just throw stuff at me because I was ugly. When I was 40, I tried to kill myself by jumping off a cliff, but I laded on a car full of people, and killed them all. I went to prison for 5 years, where I met Martha. Martha was in a gang back in Chicago, and she tought me how to fight. Before I left prison she gave me the address to her underground fight club back home.
I got out and went there. I won every fight, and became well known in the fighting world. At 50, I decided to retire. I had my last fight the day after my birthday. I lost, and had 5 teeth knocked out.
I moved out to Kansas to live on my own. I ate a ton, and became morbidly obese. At 58, I bought a dog name "poofy". He is my only company, and although I am lonely at times, I can always count on him.
Thats my story. Was it sad? Tell me your stories!