Rock bottom... It has so many meanings. To some, it's being broke and homeless, to others, it's not having anyone to talk to. To me, it's the story of my life.

At the age of eleven my brother killed himself, while I was the only person in the house. I had just gotten done taking a shower to walk into the living room only to find my dead brother, a gun in his limp hand and blood all over the carpet. I was depressed for qutie some time, absolutely convinced that it was my fault. I went through the next few years in a haze. My normal C's and B's in school were gradually dropping to D's and F's, until I finally just stopped going.

At the age of fifteen, my mother left me. My father had long since been gone, and I was all alone. The only thing I had left was the house, which until recently we'd been renting. By stroke of rare and pure luck, I had convinced the landlord to let me stay there until he found another tenant.

Friends came over all the time, girlfriends stayed the night regularly, and I blew off steam by getting high and going through the days in a drunken stupor. It was too much for my best friend, who could not stand seeing me this way. She decided that it would be best to sever our ties. I was too numb at this point to be hurt. I was all alone, broke, and convinced that everything was my fault.

At the age of seventeen things started to turn around, slightly. I got a job bagging groceries at the corner drug store, and I met a girl who seemed genuinely interested in me. I liked her, too. She was smart, funny, and always knew how to cheer me up. On the flip side, she also knew how to keep my partying in line, and helped me get over my past. I was at her house one night, enjoying a quiet night in, when all of a sudden we heard a noise.

Curiosity getting the best of me, I had to investigate. I slowly made my way to the front door and opened it, to come face to face with a man dressed in all black, holding a gun to my face. Needless to say, I was scared shitless. In a gruff voice, he commanded,

"Quiet, and you'll live." I nodded, unsure of what else to do. I couldn't see a way to alert her without being harmed, so I did as told and kept quiet. I stood there waiting as he snuck into the house. The seconds crept by slowly before... BAM! I nearly jumped a mile when the gun shot went off. My mind instantly forgot his warning and I screamed,

"NO!" I bolted into the room to see my lover dead on the floor, the man looming over her and saying something about a debt her father owed the mob. I stood there sobbing as he passed by me, knocking into my shoulder on his way out.

Broken and defeated, again, I walked slowly towards my home. Sirens in the background were blurred and the streets were getting slippery due to the heavy rainfall. Rounding the corner to my house, I stopped and drew a deep breathe. The sirens were in front of my house. Only... My house wasn't there. It was a blazing inferno, the firetrucks were doing all they could to put it out, but I could already tell that it was too late. I knew that somehow the mob had connected me to my girl, and wanted to make sure that they got their money.

It was at that point I decided to join the mob. With the little money I had in my pocket, and the clothes on my body, I turned my back on the world and started walking my ass to the other side of town, the shady side of the law. I learned a valuable lesson; you're not your job. You're not how much money you have in the bank. You're not the car you drive. You're not the contents of your wallet. You're not your fucking khakis. You're the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.

After all, it's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything.

(OOC: Credit to the epic quotes goes to the writers/directors of Fight Club.)

McKnighter ran a hand through his hair. He's had some tough luck in the past, but this one took the cake.

"That's a really sad story, a hard childhood which no kid should endure. I do wish you well in your new future with the Mafia."

Puck tips his hat to this poor but hardworking crew member..

I got to say that one a hell of a ride or maybe a plenty of hell during the brink of your life..

Sometimes, you need to hit rock bottom to truely understand yourself and your capabilities.

Thank you for the kind wishes, McKnighter.

It was indeed one hell of a ride pucky. I am proud to say that I've
put the past in the past and moved on. It is, however, always wise to
remember the things that have shaped you into the person you are. I
highly doubt I'll be completely forgetting my past, merely... putting it to the back of my mind.

While a truly tormenting upbringing, one advantage of hitting rock bottom and surviving is that you have nowhere to go but up.