Wednesday, 21 January 2015 08:07 PM
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I have looked over the Counseling Center's website a few times now, and I still can't work up the courage to go there, or reach out to a friend to help me go there. I'm just too nervous of anyone finding out (parents, friends, etc.), and worried about talking to anyone about what's going on.
Tuesday, 20 January 2015 12:03 AM
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even though most people don't, i enjoy going to class, but now working as a cashier, that's the kinda job that makes me wanna kill myself!!!!! so i just quit!!!!!!
Wednesday, 24 December 2014 10:34 PM
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I love taking walks. It allows me to process my thoughts and clear my mind, all the while taking in the unique sights brought to me by each new day. Rainy days, sunny days, snowy days - it does not matter. I will walk in any weather. West Chester is a beautiful town, and I find something new every time I venture through it. The best days are those when I cross paths with local cats.
On the night of October 13th 2013, I decided to go out for a walk. On that very same night, four youths from Coatesville came to West Chester looking for someone to beat up. Our paths crossed.
In the alleyway between Walnut and High Street, just north of the Verizon building, the aforementioned youths beat me. They threw me to the ground. They stomped my head into the gravel. They broke my nose. They cracked my teeth. "What do you want?" I asked them. I received no reply. I could no longer feel the punches - the fists connected with my face and produced brief flashes of light, but no pain. One of them was wearing a white mask, which frightened me. Not seeing a face removed all the humanity from this inhumane act. The youngest member of the quarrelsome quartet (a sixteen-year-old-girl) brought a butterfly knife. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the blade to pierce while simultaneously wondering what it felt like to get stabbed. Then a miracle happened - she dropped the knife in the scuffle. I picked up the knife and threw it away as far as I could. At the time, my mind was able to calculate a greater chance of injury/death if that knife remained within proximity, so I removed it from the equation. I find it interesting that this was my impulse and turning the knife against my attackers was not. Perhaps this saved my life.
Though I remember this incident in vivid detail, I could not tell you how exactly I managed to escape. I was getting knocked around, you understand - I was seeing only snippets and flashes. Everything was constantly moving. After I disposed of the knife, I fought my way back to my feet and tried to run. One of the youths caught me and held me back, but somehow I managed to break my grip.
I've always been good at running. It strikes me as odd, considering my sedentary nature (I prefer exercise of the intellectual and spiritual sort). In my old gym classes, I would run the mile and clock in at under 6 minutes. During recess, I dominated in tag. Rounding the bases in kickball was another favorite activity - so long as no one caught the ball on my kick, I was untouchable. And on October 13 2013, I ran for my life. I flew down the alleyway and did not look back. I found another student on High Street who called 911 for me (I didn't have my phone).
An ambulance arrived and the paramedics started treating me. Then the police arrived. An officer informed me that four youths who matched the description I gave over the phone had been stopped up on Market Street. He was nice enough to give me the choice to head over there now and ID them, or go to the hospital and ID them later. I chose to ride with the officer. I gave a positive ID on the four youths the police caught - they still had my blood on their clothes. One of them even still had his white mask. He did not think to discard it, same as all four of them had not even thought to split up after my escape. They were not the smartest of youths, preferring to focus their intellects on trying to force other souls to feel the pain that plagues their own.
I then took the officer to the alleyway where the attack took place, between Union and Magnolia Streets. We recovered the knife. Another officer arrived and took pictures of the scene, and of me. These images were used as evidence. I smiled for the camera, but the officer told me to stop. The idea of the picture was to convey the severity of my injuries, which would have been offset by my pearly whites (though at the time they were ruby reds). Then I was taken to the hospital, where I met some very nice medical personnel. Dana the Nurse. Ryan the Technician. Leanne the Secretary. Nice people.
The reason why I share this story is because I never did find the student on High Street who helped me. This student's name is Tom. I did not think to ask for a last name. He had an iphone. After he called 911, he gave me the iphone so I could speak with dispatch and give a description for the APB. I dripped blood all over the iphone. For the rest of the night, I was worried sick I'd broken it.
If anyone knows who Tom is, please refer him to this story.
Thank you, Tom. I hope your iphone still works.