I think it’s fair to say my life has always been for crap, on account, mostly, of all my mental problems. When I was very young, in an effort to get me back on track, my mother brought me to Dr. Guillen, who insisted I needed “chemical help.” Although everyone meant well, the meds pretty much turned me into a zombie. I have only a vague recollection of this time period in my life. From what I can remember, it was kind of like Night of the Living Dead, the way I was mindlessly maneuvering my way through my formative years, never stopping to contemplate exactly what or why I was doing anything. This was before I discovered my powers. Before I found my teacher and got my mind right. Before my life had purpose. Before I was Godbolt.
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