The Journey has Come to an End

Our beloved son, brother and best friend left us this night.

A brave journey has come to an end. A journey that lasted exactly for 25 years, 4 months and 15 days. A journey of a huge heart in a weak and small body. A journey of a brilliant mind in a far to weak shell.

As Mats shared with us all in this blog he was born with some challenges very few could imagine. He was however never bitter, angry or expressed any sort of unfairness. Quite the contrary Mats was the one filling us and his sourandings with sunshine, positive thoughts and optimism. During his more than 25 years amongst us he never had one negative or bad thing to express about another human being or living creature.

For those of us who was fortunate enough to learn to know Mats we share a commen experience - we got to spend time with a great little man. Mats enriched us in teaching us to be able to differ between the important and the not so important things in life. Mats was the true advocate of smiling to the world in order to get a smile back and Mats thought us the power of positive thinking. In Mats we experienced something as rare as a true wise man. They are few, but you recognise them when you meet them. Mats was such a person.

At 23:45 on November 18th the journey of the bravest amongst us came to an end. Now we will start walking the path of sorrow. We have experienced the feeling when parents leave us, but now we will experience something nobody should have to experience - the loss of a child and a brother. This will be a different path to follow. The only conviction we have is that Mats is the one person for whom it is worth going down this rocky path.

Today is a day for sorrow and sadness. But one day soon will also be the day to celebrate a fantastic personality, a strong will to live and a substantial and sustainable influence on his sourandings.

We have loved you so much, we will continue to love you and even if your own journey came to an end this night you will always participate in our joint journey together.

You will be deeply missed, but never forgotten.




The family can be contacted on mail: Robert@schibsted.no.



Mia, Trude and Robert.

December.

Here we are again, another year slowly nearing its end. It’s a strange time for me these last few years. I’ve grown weaker and can’t even eat much of the delicious Christmas dinner like I used to. Oh, how I miss those flavors! It feels odd to just watch the family eat, but that’s just how it is, at least we’re together and I’m very thankful for that. Things used to be different though, like when I was a kid everything about December was exciting! Every day we’d open another hatch of the calendar and get small gifts or treats before breakfast. We waited and waited, Christmas Eve just couldn’t come soon enough. I often wish I could turn back time. To a period where magic still existed, where December was more than just a cold, dark month.

Several years ago, I was in 9^th grade, 15 years old or so. Thinking about it, that’s nine years ago now. Time passes by as they say. It was the last day of school before the holidays, a week or two before Christmas. It was a very cold December afternoon and my assistants were ill or something, so during my school day people had been filling in for them. However, when it was time to wait or the bus home, nobody was there to put on my jacket. It was freezing as the bus pulled over to pick me up. I pushed the door open by nudging it with my wheelchair. I tried to hurry into the bus, but I could feel the cold biting into my body. As we drove home I already knew I was going to get sick.

Sure enough, the very next day my chest was making awful wheezing noises, my lungs filling up with who knows what. I couldn’t breathe right when lying down, coughing heavily. All this was before I had any breathing aid and it would turn rather nasty as we were about to experience. My parents were away at a Christmas party and my grandparents were watching my sister and I. Sadly my condition didn’t seem to improve and my mother had to come back home. I had never experienced anything like this, mucus filling up most of your lungs, like you were struggling not to drown with every breath you took.

We called the doctor for advice on what we should do. They suggested we’d try to go to bed, as it was quite late and if that didn’t help we should phone for an ambulance. My poor mother put out a mattress on my floor to keep an eye on me, but as soon as my head hit the pillow I choked. I couldn’t breathe and I started trashing about in panic. My mother ripped me up and hit me in the back, making me breathe once more. That was the final straw; I needed medical attention as soon as possible.

The ambulance came in a hurry luckily, but when they put me on the stretcher I started choking once more. I remember the black winter sky above me, snow falling down and my mother’s cries of panic as I passed out before I got to the ambulance. It was terrifying and surreal at the same time. At one point I remember thinking “This is it, this is the end”. While unconscious I could hear the echoes of those around me, the paramedics, the doctor and of course my mother. It was like I was caught between life and death. I’m very skeptical when it comes to religion, but for some reason everything was white and cold, like the mountains of the Himalayas. It was covered in ice and snow, far away from everything else. It might have been my mind playing tricks on me, but that was where I was.

Finally my eyes opened in the emergency room, gasping in relief as the doctors had drained several liters of mucus, no wonder I was choking. Right after this I fell asleep, my body exhausted. It wasn’t over there though and I was at the hospital for a while. Every day I would choke up and they would stick tubes down my throat to get it all out. At one point it got so bad they had to give me extra oxygen, straight down my throat. Talking was impossible and on top of that it wasn’t programmed correctly. Luckily they removed it the next day, allowing me to breathe and talk properly again. After a long week in hell we managed to convince them o let me go home for Christmas.

They were a bit skeptical, but I seemed to be in a good health, no more mucus or risks of choking. They did however make sure I received my first breathing machines. They were almost shocked I didn’t have a few already! Well, nobody told us about it until it was too late. Typical. December 23^rd I was home again! My sister gave me a hug and we had the most beautiful Christmas tree in the living room. All this was worth fighting for, death would have to wait. In the end it’s not about the presents, or the food for that matter, it’s all about being together, share, care and just have a good time in this dark, cold month we call December.

Prison-camp...?

When I was young I was sent to summer camp with other handicapped kids. I of course hated the entire idea even though I was only there twice. It was a strange experience to say the least and I’ll never forget those weeks at the resort by the lake. It isn’t far from where I live, maybe a 30 minute drive or so, but to me that was too far away! I felt betrayed by my parents who would send me to this dreadful institution of fun and campfires. Yes, I went that far. In reality it wasn’t that terrible, but it was my first time away from my parents. I trusted nobody. It was like some twisted handicapped version of “Prison Break” to me. I was dropped off, hugged my mother and then I started thinking of ways I could escape!

The first time I must have been around twelve years old and I was scared. They had never had a child there who cried as much as I did. Severe case of missing home. I remember I kept a diary, a notebook my mother sent with me. Time is going to fly she would say, two weeks and we’d all be together again. I didn’t understand it back then, but my parents needed a vacation too sometimes and my sister wanted to go to Mallorca almost every year. I didn’t like the idea of flying. So, camp it was for me. Looking at those old notes now always brings a smile to my face.

As I said before, I compared the camp to a prison, and in prison what do you do? You count the days. So, in the notebook there is a page dedicated to this purpose. Every day I would add a line and cheer myself up a bit. One day closer to freedom. Things went better after a while, but the first five days of that diary is horribly sad. I might have exaggerated a bit here and there but I was real homesick. I even made the people taking care of us call my parents, who were at Mallorca probably, not like they could pick me up anyhow. I got to talk to them on the phone though. I whined and cried a bit, but in the end that call was just what I needed. The second week went quite well, my diary looked less depressing and before I knew it I was back home.

The second time I was there I was 14, now this trip was real interesting. Once again, I protested. I didn’t want to go back there again. I even considered acting so terrible they’d kick me out. That plan was never put in motion however. This time I wasn’t scared, I was annoyed and ready to fight! This time I was prepared, too old to cry now. I was a teenager after all, and this brought many awkward moments to say the least. It was like high school, but all the students were handicapped. There were clicks, bullies, cool kids, geeks and loners, we had it all. We all got a roommate and a volunteer assistant the first day we got to camp. My roommate was… Well, he was a teenage boy with only one thing on his mind.

He also had duchennes, but back then we were stronger, we couldn’t walk but the rest worked just fine. So, every night our assistants would put us to bed, say goodnight, turn off the lights and leave the room. This was when my roommate would ask if I was asleep. Being the fool I was I said no. Why did I even answer? The following thirty minutes I had to listen to him go on in detail about girls and how much sex he was going to have once he got home. Yeah, sure, you’re 14 and handicapped, good luck there! It was all pretty awkward and I often found myself wondering if I should hit the alarm button next to the bed and call in assistance. Just to shut that horny teenager in the other bed up. Then after talking about pleasing himself he finally fell asleep. The next day he acted as if nothing had happened, or he was too embarrassed, as he should be!

We also had a set of wheelchair twins, two large, heavy, red-haired guys with a bad temper. These were the bullies and I always ran into them in the hallway. Correction, they ran into me. Did I say ran? Silly me, I mean rammed into me. They would come up next to me, one at each side of my wheelchair and try to squeeze me out. It was like a typical car chase scene. I usually got away as I was smarter and a bit faster than those broilers. One of them even spat me in the back of my head once! This just wouldn’t do, I needed allies.

My allies came in the form of a few boys I befriended, we came from different parts of Norway and we all had different handicaps. We were like the X-men! No, not really, we were the nerds and they were the bullies. At least we were more than them! Me and my new pals would stick together and avoid our enemies as best as we could, even though they singled me out once and chased me into the parking lot. I have no idea what was wrong with those twins, maybe this was their way to deal with their disabilities?  Either way, things went better after a while, we even had a party where I was a barkeeper, mixing Cola and Fanta and adding color to it mostly. We were still only 14 after all.

The biggest issue I had with the camp was the trips to an amusement park, Tusenfryd outside Oslo. A big handicap friendly bus would pick us all up and drive us to the park. That was embarrassing, parading in there like some kind of freak show. The other people would stare and because some of the campers had mental handicaps people often assumed we were all that way. They always talked in big, easy words. “HELLO! DO YOU LIKE THE PARK?” Yeah, I’m not deaf or mentally challenged, thank you very much. Strange how people react.

All in all, these two trips will forever stay with me, for better and for worse. You might wonder, if I was offered a stay there again, would I take it? The answer is still no. Yes, it wasn’t as bad as I first thought, but I don’t like being sent to places to be with “my kind”. I like being myself without being associated with a certain group. I’m a person, and that’s that.

BBQ

I sometimes think about fate. Why do children die? Why do some live and others don’t? Why was I born with this condition? Is everything in this universe truly as random as some say? Are we guided by something unseen, by fate? If so, I’m not sure I understand the concept. I do know one thing though, I was born and I am here. Heh, sometimes I wonder though, what if one of the others eggs were chosen? Would this egg become s normal boy? Maybe. It’s a foolish thought. I shouldn’t start going down that road again. I’m here, I’ve been here for 24 years now and I intend to stay for many years to come. Fate willing.

I was invited to a family barbecue by my uncle, the large man with the heart of gold. He has a large flat property and everything on one floor. It’s a perfect house for me! My grandfather was there as well, about 85 years old now. I had not seen him in a long time now; he’s too frail to visit me anymore sadly. Time is a strange thing. Every time I see him he’s aged so much. He made his way towards me, on short, unsteady steps. He finds support in his cane as he leans in to give me a hug. I could see the tears in the old man’s eyes, he misses his grandson. It’s not often I’ve seen him cry, he’s always been so tough, former policeman and everything. It was a bit overwhelming and I was unsure whether to cry as well or comfort him. I settled on the second option, but it was all very touching.

This man used to drive me to kindergarten, school, and watch over me and my sister when our parents were away. I owe him my utmost respect and admiration. Sure, he’s been a strange guy as well; he can say the craziest things. My mother usually gets annoyed by her father’s many outbursts, but I just laugh it off. He’s old, if he wants to be an original I say let him. I brought an assistant to the barbecue and to her my grandfather turns and says; “We have an agreement, him and I… If he dies first I’ll speak in his funeral, and if I die first he’ll speak in mine”. He’s been saying this for maybe about ten years now, but I want to honor this request. I’ll speak for his memory, as I’ll never forget him.

There were several others at the party, my grandmother, cousins and everything. My sister brought her boyfriend, they seem very happy together. As the evening progressed it was time for fun and games. We played croquet in the garden; this resulted in a lot of laughter, especially when my mother took the field! She’s probably one of the funniest people I know, she spreads joy when she’s in a good mood. I was on her team and even though we lost I had an amazing time. I think my mother and I can agree on one point. You don’t have to win as long as you’re having a good time.

For a few moments it was like stepping into a typical American neighborhood; a large barbecue, a warm social atmosphere, games in the garden and in the corner of my eyes I could see an American football flying. My cousins were tossing it about, just like you’d expect. I found it fascinating and enjoyable. Guess living by an army base run by Americans you’re bound to get affected somehow. They spent several years on one down in Germany. I was of course concerned about my breathing machine as this was the first real trip with the new one. This time however I was prepared! I made sure to recharge every chance I got, even brought some food of my own. I killed two birds with one stone and as mentioned before in this blog, I always need to plan ahead, be prepared.

As we were driving home my father remembered something vital! We had forgotten my food device; I’ll just call it that. It pretty much is a pump, pumping liquid food into my feeding tube. It’s practical for me as chewing gets tiresome. It has changed my life as I was near starvation in the past, skin and bones. Now I’m stronger and gained enough weight to function well. Would be a bit odd to starve in a country such as this! Anyhow, we picked it up and made our way home, without any stops at the local gas stations.

To close this entry I’d like to type a few words about family. That sounded a bit Mafia when I think about it… Oh well! To me family is of course very important, they’ve always had my back no matter what. It doesn’t matter to them that I’m different, they still love me. My mother, father, everyone. You people have enriched my life and I have no idea where I’d be without you. Heh, I get a bit carried away here, but I mean every word. We all need somebody to lean on, right?

Creative sollutions

I’m always a bit sad this time of the year. It’s august and in Norway that means the summer is nearing its end. I’ve always been a child of summer, it means life to me. You can go outside without having to wrap yourself up in thick, heavy clothes. There is no ice to slip on, like that unfortunate incident I once had with a wall. To be a bit dramatic, to me winter is death. Many thinkers and poets before me seem to agree on this view. The leaves fall, most animals go into hiding, and some birds even flee this frozen wasteland. It’s just quiet and dead. The best thing about winter? It ends.

Well, august has surprised me in the past as well. We might still get a few days of summer! We deserve that. Now, some might be curious about what else I do on my spare time, well, fulltime in my case. I enjoy a good movie, different types really. Sci-fi, action, comedy, drama… I find horror movies a bit silly though. “Don’t go in there! No! Don’t… Great, now the vampire got you… They never listen!” You get the idea. Over the years I have gained a rather impressive collection. However, the time of the DVD is soon past, just like summer. However, Netflix and other movie services seem pretty great and easy too.

 Then there is of course gaming, I’ve touched this subject several times already in this blog, but now I’ll write a bit of the practical aspect. You see, using a gaming device or computer has become more difficult the last few years, so I had to get creative. Holding the Xbox controller was the first issue, there’s always one button I can’t reach! Of course this button has to be used at some point in every game. “Throw a grenade!” “I can’t! I can punch the car if that helps you guys?” it really gets frustrating eventually. I never really found a solution to that issue. Maybe someone else out there have any bright ideas? I’d love to hear it.

One of my former assistants became a very good friend of mine. He’s 40, I’m 24 but we’re both gamers! Easy to guess what we spent the night doing, shooting poor aliens and other things online. It’s different when your friend is sitting next to you while gaming. We laugh, joke, and talk about guy stuff and nerdy things like superheroes and the like. Either way, he came up with a nice way to hold the controller. We built our own gaming table, consisting of a pillow, a towel and a book. We just rest the controller on top and I quickly get a better hold. The buttons are easier to reach, all but one cursed button. Oh well, who needs grenades when I can hit you with this stick!

Using a mouse and a keyboard also became a challenge for me and this was harder to solve. I had to send a mail and inform some people of the problem. That’s how I got in touch with two creative guys from a company that specialized in such tools. They say it’s important that the buttons and switches come to the user, not the other way around. This is very true! I can’t reach every button, so they simply have to move the buttons to me. Finally someone understood this fact! They came by and we discussed a possible solution. We quickly came up with a genius plan. They attached a series of buttons to a special table, 12 of them where most surround my mouse. I can program these buttons to serve any purpose I like. It changed my computer use forever. I can finally play games I could only dream of before. I owe those two guys a lot.

There are as you understand many obstacles in my way, but there are solutions to most things if you just keep your mind open to it. Be creative! I know, many times I just wanted to give up, nothing ever works, right? Wrong. I’ve met far too many doctors and ergonomists who fail to think creative. They just see one solution and they stick to that. Now, I’m sure that solution works for some, but we are all different. My needs are different from yours. As you might have guessed I’ve always loved creative people. I’m amazed by the beauty humans are able to create around them. Some artists are afraid to show off their work, thinking they’re not good enough. To them I want to say, stop doubting yourself. Sometimes you have to jump in, no matter how scary it might seem. You might be pleasantly surprise.

  

I try to be creative sometimes and one of those times; this is what came out of it:

Love

It was a peaceful, warm evening in Azeroth, a few friends sitting around a campfire enjoying some drinks and good stories. I vaguely remember who I was there with; I remember one of them quite well. He used to play a dwarf character and was a close friend of Ibelin. A good thing about virtual beer is that you don’t get drunk, you just pretend you do. It must sound absurd, but a fun challenge for an actor or role-player. Anyhow, while we were sitting there a dark haired, mysterious beauty comes out from the woods and joins us by the fire. I’m not sure how it happened but she started teasing and flirting with my character, and I liked it. In real life I was 17 at the time, no idea how to even approach a girl, being handicapped does things to your confidence.

 In this other world a girl wouldn’t see a wheelchair or anything different. They would get my soul, heart and mind, conveniently placed in a handsome, strong body, luckily pretty much every character in this virtual world look great. Many might find this silly, but at least looks don’t matter much anymore, it’s all about personality. So, the attractive girl kept confusing me as I wasn’t used to being flirted with like that. There was something very exciting about her, her humor, the way she acted, how she would express herself. I was sold. Suddenly she kissed my cheek and vanished into the woods. It was just a virtual kiss, but boy I could almost feel it. My character just sat there, clueless of what to do next.

 My dwarf friend told me to go after her, she was clearly into me. Wait? No, no, not me right? Eventually Ibelin got up and with uncertainty he followed the mysterious woman into the woods. That’s how it began, they quickly became a couple and it was the closest thing I’ve ever been to a crush in my entire life. We exchanged mails and started communicating outside the game as well. We stayed in touch for a few years, through our late teens. She did have a boyfriend and she did live in another country, so part of me knew nothing more would ever happen. I never told her about my feelings and we remained good friends, until we lost contact sadly. I still think of her, weird how it is with your first crush. I remember thinking, if only… If only I wasn’t handicapped! It was always my excuse.

 

Love has always been a tricky subject for me; it feels like it’s just not meant for me. I watch my family grow, old friends finding love, some get married and I’m still where I always was. I try my best not to think about it, but you know how it is sometimes. Of course, I’m very happy for my friends and family, it’s not that. I just sometimes wonder how it would be. In World of Warcraft I’ve flirted and been with several women, but it can never be the same. Online I can at least do all the things I want, hold her, and kiss her without having to plan everything. Wheelchairs and all that tend to make things difficult.

 They say I could be a father, in theory that’s possible, but then again, what would the point be? These dark thoughts just try to drag me down, making excuses. I could father a soccer team and have them carry me around. It’s a funny image. I doubt that will ever happen, but if I should ever fall in love and she really wanted to, who knows? One shouldn’t close doors too soon; you never know who might come in. I went to my cousin’s wedding (mother’s side) a few months ago, it was amazing. They had picked a lovely spot for the dinner and party. Only thing I didn’t like is that I had to dress up! I hate suits, vest, that stiff white shirt… But sometimes sacrifices must be made! I wonder if there are white, soft t-shirts I could use instead… It was nice seeing two families get together and celebrate a loving couple’s big day. There were some nice speeches, always been a fan of those, call me sentimental. As the evening progressed it was finally time to hit the dance floor, music pumping, making me want to show off some of my moves.

 How do you dance in a wheelchair? It’s not too hard, just work that joystick. Turn, turn, right, right, left, left, spin, forward, forward, backward, stop, spin. You get the idea, it is actually quite fun! The others at the party thought it was pretty great at least. One of my uncles, on my father’s side who wasn’t a part of this wedding, had agreed to drive me and my assistant home from the party. It was half past eleven and after saying our goodbyes we drove off into the night. Everything was going great, until my breathing machine started beeping loudly.

I’ve always hated that noise! It was telling us it needed to be recharged, as fast as possible. We were in the middle of nowhere, so we had to find a gas station before the machine would shut down. I freaked out a bit, but luckily we found a gas station, rushed in and plugged me in between the hotdog and the bagel stand. So, spent 30 minutes or so at a gas station, nice to see what they do in the middle of the night. I wouldn’t want their job, but at least they didn’t mind me recharging my batteries. It’s funny, with me that’s not just a figure of speech, I actually do have to recharge my batteries, literally.

 To get back on topic here: I have no idea what the future might bring, but hoping for the best. I’m happy for my sister today; she’s been with her boyfriend for a year now. I love her and my family to bits, and perhaps that is enough too? There are many kinds of love after all. Hopefully there will be more weddings in the future; I need to hit that dance floor again!

Growing up

Most of us have fond memories of our childhoods, learning to ride a bike, jumping in muddy puddles without a care in the world. If a grown man ran about jumping in puddles while giggling happily I’m certain he would get a few funny looks, or a strait jacket. I have many fond memories as well from my upbringing. Ah, childhood, where I was still at my best. I could walk until I was eight years old or so, but in spite of that I was still fairly strong. I could wheel myself around, sit in a normal chair without falling over, and best of all I could breathe perfectly well! No stupid masks and machines.

 I was born in 1989, just in time to avoid most of the 80’s. Well, there was some sweet music from that decade, but the fashion and the style was terrible, to me anyhow. Shoulder pads, strange hairdos and those dreaded pastel colors. I remember I had a dresser with drawers painted turquoise and purple! Oh well, I know some liked this style for reasons that are beyond me. It was the year the Berlin Wall crumbled, not that I recall anything about that. I like that thought, as if the wall had to come down because I would be born.

 The first years of my life was spent in a row house, I believe that is the English term. Small houses all connected on a row. Once it was clear I had the condition I have my parents realized we needed more space. There were wheelchairs and other things waiting in the future. When you’re born with a condition like mine it’s very important to plan ahead, prepare yourself for something that might not come in years, because it will come. I believe this attitude has saved my life on many occasion, I’ve gotten help before it’s too late. So, at the age of five we all moved to our current home. Me, my sister, father and mother and of course our dog at the time: Blue. I feel it was the best choice they could have made for me, as I’ve expressed before, I love my home.

 I started school shortly after we moved, it was quite exciting and the primary school here was and is still amazing. When the weather is nice I enjoy an evening walk, or drive around my old school. Just to see what’s changed and to think back. Losing the ability to walk was one of the darkest days I remember, but it had a few perks. In wintertime I could stay inside and play computer games or play with toys while the other kids were out there freezing their fingers off. However, staying inside with only adults to keep me company did get lonely, so I was allowed to pick two classmates who could stay inside with me. This ended up having an unintended side effect.

 There were two boys I used to play with, thinking they were my friends and that I could depend on them. Sadly I think they took advantage of my condition instead, they could stay inside, and all they had to do was play with me. How sad is that? Kids can be cruel sometimes, often without realizing. I learned that the hard way. When I truly needed them, they were never there. When I was a bit older I kept a bit to myself on the playground. I had just gotten my first real electrical wheelchair. It looked more like a car, with 4 large tires it was built for almost all terrain, quite impressive, huh? It was called the “Exterior” and we had many adventures together.

 That chair was so cool that when I drove through the schoolyard a younger kid would roll up next to me on his tricycle, look up at me with big eyes and ask; “Do you want to trade?”. If only he knew what exactly he was asking. Sure, I’d gladly trade you my chair, it comes with a muscular condition. Then I’d happily roll away on my brand new tricycle, into the sunset. No, no, I wouldn’t wish that on the poor kid, so I laughed it off and drove on. It was a cute, innocent question after all, a question I’ll never forget.

 I found salvation in my game boy, just sit there for hours and dream away as Super Mario jumped on mushrooms, collecting coins. Of course I couldn’t hide in that little device all the time and sometimes I just felt like being alone. I drove to the far reaches of the schoolyard, up a small hill. Then I stopped and gazed out over the yard, watching kids play, climb trees, build castles in the sand, ride bikes and use the swing set, all the things I could no longer do. That’s when the tears come, in moments like that. Life can be unfair at times and even if I try my best to keep positive it will always be there, buried within my very soul.

 After this secondary school went alright, even if I was secluding myself more and more, retreating from the social scene a bit. I decided to focus on schoolwork, be the best I can be there, show the world I’m no fool at least. I believe I succeeded. Sadly I had no idea how to make new friends or how to keep them. There were a few in my teenage years at school, but lost contact with them now. I continued getting good grades, in most subjects, except math! As you might have guessed, terrible subject. High School was a bit rougher socially, I wasn’t bullied or anything, but I felt like an outsider, and some of that was my own fault.

 In high school there were parties, attractive girls, mopeds! So many things a boy at 17 desired, but they were all just dreams, things beyond my reach. I would drive around the parking lot, admiring the mopeds and motorbikes, even the scooters I envied. The idea of driving yourself to school instead of waiting on a special, green bus was so alluring to me. When the bell rang I was ripped out of my fantasy, typical, just as I was about to pick up the cutest girl in school and drive some place romantic. Oh well, dreams are nice that way, you can always visit again.

 I graduated with flying colors, beating most of my classmates. I was among the best, but I felt so lonely up there. There were so many things I had missed out on, friends I could have made if I had just forced myself to be more social. I guess I’ll always be a bit shy that way, but as they say, it’s never too late to change. So, in conclusion, did I have a good time growing up? In spite of all the hardships I’ve faced I will have to say yes. I’m happy with how my family raised me, how I was looked after. I’m grateful to be alive and I have many good memories as well. However, I can’t forget the bad things; they have made me the man I am today. It has taught me a lot. There is only one quote fit to end this entry, it’s from a song, from the 80¨s even!

 “When the going gets tough, the tough gets going”.