A part of you that has died..

I find it hard to believe any part of me is still alive. (and by any part it is the one that wakes up stiff in the morning)

Not trying to make myself the target of sympathy,I wouldn't give a shit if anyone sympathized with me or not.I grew up in quite a harsh environment,that being where my father always yelled at my mother and threw things at her.My brothers didn't live with me and my sister was far too emotionally detached at the time,so at five years old,I was essentially already alone,aside from my beloved dog. I got him when he was only a puppy,but even then he was the most loving living being I have yet to encounter.He protected me like I was his own puppy,and I loved him more than anything in the world. He grew up with me through the hard years,years I can only remember being filled with anger and sadness,but with my dog with me,I was able to block out some of the anger,if only for a few minutes. He followed me everywhere,and I was just glad to have his company,because it was the only attachment I had to the world then.The years passed,Pudge (my dog) growing alongside me,going from an adorable puppy to a regal hound.It was the happiest time I had known,but it was far too short.

My parents divorced three years after I got Pudge,leaving me to my mothers care.It was shortly after it was decided my mother and father to move to different homes,as it was best.I was happy my mother payed attention to me,even if she was being forced to,but when we were to move,I learned that I wasn't able to take Pudge with me.I cried for hours on end that day,and locked myself in the shed with Pudge as I held him tight. I didn't want to leave him,I needed him and he needed me,but my parent's didn't understand that.My father eventually managed to open the Shed and dragged me out by my shirt,as Pudge stood there growling at my father.It was then that Pudge bit my Father,trying to protect me.My father didn't like that one bit,and decided Pudge must be put down.

My mother took me to the store to take my mind off things,although I believe she thought of me only as a nuisance,it was kind of her to do so.When we arrived back at the house Pudge was gone.I searched everywhere for him.I slept outside,and continued looking for him the moment I woke up to the moment I fell over from exhaustion.I couldn't find him,I never would.My Father shot him when we were at the store,and buried him in the backyard.After a week of looking,I just couldn't go on anymore.I asked myself why I was doomed to suffer,even though I was only a child.Why was I put through that? Was I deemed unworthy by our so called "God"? Was I unfit to live a life of happiness?I pondered those things as I asked for Pudge back.I wasn't asking anyone particular,but if someone was willing to grant my wish,I didn't care who it was.

I never got my wish.I lived with an alcoholic mother who had given up on her children after the divorce,so I was raised with no knowledge of how I should act,speak,or even present myself in public.So now here I find myself,socially awkward,asking for another chance to correct whatever I did wrong,typing my story out to people on Fakku who probably don't even care,but if it can even help me feel even slightly better about myself,then I see no reason why I shouldn't.
Heh,I feel strange,considering I usually play the role of the asshole troller who can't take anyone seriously.

Anywho,sorry for the huge amount of text,just wanted to vent a bit.

I am an atheist,for obvious reasons.