This is a confession of some sorts, everything that I have done wrong in my life, and everything that has ever happened to me. All the people that know me, especially my parents, will be surprised if they ever read this. I guess I should start from when I was a small child, when I was only little and innocent. Even that one sentence will bring great guffaws of laughter to most of my friends. They will try to think of a time when I could ever have been innocent, to tell you the truth, I'm not sure I ever was.

When I was little, I wasn't normal. The term a normal, ordinary child, never applied to me. I used to have nightmares as every child does, but mine were never normal. I used to have nightmares about death. To be more specific, I used to have nightmares about my parents death. This may seem normal but the way in which they died never was. I was the cause of their death. Pretty messed up, huh? Well, I wasn't just the cause of their death, I meant to kill them. That's right murder. Obviously, it was pictured when I was older but when I looked in the mirror, I still saw me. The little girl me stared back from the mirror. Another thing, when I was about seven years old, I had a life long dream. While other seven year old girls want to be princesses, I wanted to be an assassin. I dreamed of killing people. I was such a nice, gentle girl wasn't I? Ha! By the time I was eight, the dream had progressed to dominating the world. This is normal you could say, but the world I envisioned wasn't. The world I envisioned was one of pain, one of destruction.

So that covers my dreams when I was little, but what else happened you may ask. Well of course I hurt people, not in the bullying way as such. The people I hurt were always older than me, mainly it was my siblings. When I was three years old I cracked my brothers head open. Me and my brothers fights always, and I mean always, got out of control. We always ended up hurting each other quite badly. The number of dislocated shoulders and kneecaps we've given each other are so many, I lost count years ago. When I was seven, I learnt how to smoke, and took it up. I got properly addicted when I was nine years old and have been smoking 10 – 20 a day ever since. Now I'm finally trying to cut down. When I was nine or ten, I took up drugs, not hardcore drugs at first. When I was that old I only smoked weed and puff, but that soon progressed to LSD, pills, coke. Anything you can think of, I took it, with the exception of heroin of course. I stopped all of that about two months ago, and I actually feel pretty good. I went through hell getting off of it though.

When I was six years old I had a brief visit to an asylum, a madhouse, or as they preferred to call it an institute for the troubled mind. I'm not quite sure why, I don't remember that far back, but oh well. Like I said it was a brief stay, I think it lasted all of three months. Since then I've had many counsellors for many different reasons, reasons I don't particularly wish to disclose within this confession. This may seem strange but many of the reasons still exist even though I have managed to convince my counsellors otherwise.

I'm not quite sure when I became so manipulative. Ever since I remember, I've been able to read people and gauge what their reactions would be to certain things. I use this to my advantage. Most people have a little manipulation in them, its natural, but I don't know anyone who does it as subtly, as discreetly. You may think I'm being big headed, but I don't actually see this as a good thing. No matter what it is, I can pretty much make anyone do it. I do test this quite a bit; I like to see how far my power of manipulation stretches as it is quite handy to know. I'm pretty sure everyone who reads this – with the possible exception of Niall – will be very surprised at this. Apparently I appear to be a nice girl, honest, but nice. That reminds me, every one thinks I'm stuck up which I think is amazingly funny. I have nothing to be stuck up about; I have no self esteem, I have no confidence in anything I do. A conversation with Niall is flooding back to me at the moment. We were talking about outward appearances and reading people. His analysis of me was; I'm very grounded i.e. down to earth, I'm honest to the point of hurting people's feelings, I'm quite manipulative. I agree with absolutely everything he said about me. I actually think he was being quite nice to me about it all, but what can you do? I have to say I enjoy watching other people. It's become a bit of a habit of mine. I know that sounds really sad, but when you watch how people express their emotions even when they're attempting to hide them is just too hilarious. If I look at someone, even if I don't know them, I can tell what they're like, how they feel at that precise moment, and I've never been wrong. I guess that covers my manipulation.

Next it's onto my alcoholism. I turned to alcohol after I was raped for the very first time. The first time I was raped was when I was eleven. It happened somewhere that I go all the time, that I spent most of my childhood. It happened on the ranges near my house. I know this doesn't excuse it, but I felt that it would help me, stop my self loathing, or kill me, either one seemed pretty good to me at the time. I felt like scum, I felt so dirty, for weeks on afterwards I cried myself to sleep wondering why it happened to me of all people. I refused to leave the house for over a month afterwards, but luckily for me it was the summer holidays so I wasn't forced to. That wasn't quite when I turned into an alcoholic though. When I properly turned into one was the second time I was raped, a year and a half later in the park behind my house. After that time, I knew I was the scum of the earth. I didn't care about my life anymore, I did what I wanted to, and I guess that's about the same time I started to take cocaine. In my short lifespan, I have somehow managed to be raped seven times, quite extraordinary for someone so young. I think the rape statistic for women in this country is something like 1 in 10, I'm way above average. The last time I was raped was about a month and a half ago – from when I wrote this obviously – and I am pregnant with the rapist's baby. I am not having an abortion, I don't care what anyone says, I'm not.

Being raped did fuck me up a lot, and I mean a lot, but something that was even worse was shouting at Dean then he turns up in a body bag. Dean was someone I considered my little brother and a year ago we had had an argument about something trivial about him being late so we missed the train, that same night he was hit by a speeding car and killed instantly. The car didn't even stopped, just carried on going after taking the life of an innocent eight year old boy who had never done anything wrong in his entire life. Dean was the smartest, funniest person I have ever known. He was completely brilliant. After the first time that I had fucked up my life he actually helped me, he gave me hope for the human race, but after his death, that hope drowned in despair and I've never recovered. I just started piecing my life back together again two months ago and my best friend died holding my hand. If there is a god out there, he hates me. Whenever something good happens to me, something comes and destroys it. I've been pretty resilient up until now despite the drugs I always pushed on, did anything I could to feel better, now I've given up. I've resigned myself to a shit hole of a life, I'm not going to do anything to stop it, I have to say that I no longer care.

I think that is a pretty good summary of everything I've done wrong, well majorly wrong anyway, but I'm not quite sure to be honest. I don't know what to do with all of this, if I should show it to anyone or not, but I have to say it did make me feel a little better just writing it. Maybe if I do show it to someone, it would be good. I don't like people to know anything about me, but outside prospective might be a good idea here, who knows?