As part of this blog, I promised to highlight those Death Note fans who scattered when MangaBullet went down.
Welcome to our monthly Focus on a Fan feature!
The rest of this entry is given over to, and penned by, TrishKeehl!
(NB Trisha speaks English (extremely well) as a second language. She asked me to double-check her grammar and spelling, which I've done.
But I've aimed to retain throughout her own phrasing and voice.)
Welcome to our monthly Focus on a Fan feature!
The rest of this entry is given over to, and penned by, TrishKeehl!
(NB Trisha speaks English (extremely well) as a second language. She asked me to double-check her grammar and spelling, which I've done.
But I've aimed to retain throughout her own phrasing and voice.)
This is a short story of the last few years in the life of Trisha Abaddon, formerly known as TrishKeehl on Mangabullet.
Imagine yourself a sieve.
Then apply it to the way my brain looks like.
Yes, you've got the point.
Not that long time ago I was sitting on a meeting with a Job Councillor and after what it seemed like 1.5 hours, the lady got up, staring at me with wide eyes and said:
'You know, I'm not a smoker, but I think I need a cig now'.
And I hadn't even started on my past...
As a teenage, rebellious kid I had this plan - to die before turning 22. I thought it was long enough to taste life, and to be full of it to the point of nausea. I didn't have any more plans except those funeral ones. And to tell you in all honesty - I died. Not literally, no... I've gone to the dark pit of Hell and made myself there at home. For a good few months... or years... (remember - the sieve). But in the end I came back, to tell you this a bit gruesome tale.
I invite you to the single-person circus and roller-coaster called humbly Trisha.
I think I left some of you on my oh so well chosen point in education that IT school was. Well, I finished that school, but didn't get the title of technician. To tell you the truth, I didn't really care about it. Because the main events were happening outside my education...
I had my school in another city, so to not travel there every time, I used to stay at my father's brother home during some nights. I used to stay there unto the one night when my alcoholic uncle decided it was a good thing to rape me.
I'll spare you the details.
I managed to get away from his house early in the morning and ran through the woods to the city. I was furious. At him, at myself and at everything that had happened to me.
I stopped at the gas station, bought myself a beer and a pack of cigarettes and went to school like nothing was wrong. One thing I knew - I was never a crybaby and the world would not wait for my royal self to get myself together.
Oops, did I mention I spent my money on beer and nicotine supplies?
Yeah, I had nothing in my wallet to cover the bus ticket to get me home.
However, I had enough money to buy myself a 'phone card, so I called Mom telling her I decided to come home by foot. In the end she got in touch with my cousin who took me to his home and made me a tea.
This is important little thing to me - that hot tea. I felt so cold and shaky and it soothed my nerves and felt like a real gift from the Heavens. Since then, I'm a big lover of tea of any kind. Trisha - the tea freak - how funny is that?
What came later was a dose of total chaos mixed with a few spoons of self-destruction and poured with alcohol.
As the informed vampire that I am, I've read all the side effects - physical and psychical - of that damn event, so I would know what to expect from myself. And I gave myself a month for a total freak out when I drank every day, self-harmed, starved myself and read depressing fan fiction.
The month, but did it end? Some of those things stand with me to this day, but I got hold of myself. However, my addictive personality - that I received as a present from my dear Daddy - had different plans and I kept drinking and skipping school.
Not everything was dark though.
I used to take care of some gentle old lady that I called lovingly 'My Lady'. She was a bright star in my dark moments. Unlike my blood family - she hated lying and held a deep respect for me, for which I am thankful. I really loved her and loved keeping her a company. She was my best friend and a role model - she was very sick - she lost her leg due to diabetes, was blind on one eye and had problems with heart. But I never heard her complain - she was always smiling even when she recalled things that made a bow out of my gut.
That Christmas, she left the town to spend time with her family. I didn't know then that I saw her for the last time. I got the information she was sent to hospital - what shocked me deeply was the fact that she hid from me: she had bone cancer.
As soon as My Lady came into my life, she was gone.
Many people came to her funeral, but... not her family... not the priest, but I held the duty to keep the keys to her house, to close it once the coffin was out.
I locked the door and bid her goodbye.
I stopped drinking, much to the dislike of my father, who loves telling me how he doesn't care if I end up on a street, and the relief of Mom, who was ignoring me during this whole time anyway. Oh well. You look only good with the family on the pictures, right?
Making a quick summary: not only had My Lady died, but also a neighbour who helped us when Dad was in depths of alcoholism - a nice lady, whom I treated as my Grandma; my cat; two hamsters; and my cellphone. For the last one, I have no regrets.
I really wanted to be good, to not to let all those deaths be meaningless - I even started exercising daily.
...did you know I can get in trouble, even from such a simple task like performing push ups?
I renewed my arm contusion, that I got as a teen when I was trying Le Parkour. It hurt like hell, and being a true blood Pole that I am, I decided to self medicate with what was on our shelves at home. I found a Tramadol - highly addictive painkiller to which, guess what, I used to be slightly addicted in the past - and happily downed it.
The high... that wonderful feeling of being normal and loved. Suffering from Bipolar Disorder, I cannot really tell you what 'normal' is, but then, on those meds, it felt just right. In the end Tramadol was my first love, my teenage affection that I forgot about for seven long years.
Can you see where I'm heading?
I ended up getting more and more high with every day, until the doses became so big I was losing consciousness. I wanted it. I needed it. Good people were telling me to stop doing this, before something bad would happen and I listened to them, heartlessly... sipping on my new favourite thing.
The bad thing happened when I'd OD'd so much, I lost it while out shopping and brother had to literally drag me back home. Oh, joy, the rumours I heard about me then! Dad was happy, 'cause I reached the bottom. Godspeed.
Every good story, however, has to have a plot twist in the end.
...it didn't feel like a good thing when I was sick to my core and going cold turkey all alone. I was lucky enough I didn't get a stroke or die, because that can happen when you dance with Lady C16H25NO2.
Then apply it to the way my brain looks like.
Yes, you've got the point.
Not that long time ago I was sitting on a meeting with a Job Councillor and after what it seemed like 1.5 hours, the lady got up, staring at me with wide eyes and said:
'You know, I'm not a smoker, but I think I need a cig now'.
And I hadn't even started on my past...
As a teenage, rebellious kid I had this plan - to die before turning 22. I thought it was long enough to taste life, and to be full of it to the point of nausea. I didn't have any more plans except those funeral ones. And to tell you in all honesty - I died. Not literally, no... I've gone to the dark pit of Hell and made myself there at home. For a good few months... or years... (remember - the sieve). But in the end I came back, to tell you this a bit gruesome tale.
I invite you to the single-person circus and roller-coaster called humbly Trisha.
I think I left some of you on my oh so well chosen point in education that IT school was. Well, I finished that school, but didn't get the title of technician. To tell you the truth, I didn't really care about it. Because the main events were happening outside my education...
I had my school in another city, so to not travel there every time, I used to stay at my father's brother home during some nights. I used to stay there unto the one night when my alcoholic uncle decided it was a good thing to rape me.
I'll spare you the details.
I managed to get away from his house early in the morning and ran through the woods to the city. I was furious. At him, at myself and at everything that had happened to me.
I stopped at the gas station, bought myself a beer and a pack of cigarettes and went to school like nothing was wrong. One thing I knew - I was never a crybaby and the world would not wait for my royal self to get myself together.
Oops, did I mention I spent my money on beer and nicotine supplies?
Yeah, I had nothing in my wallet to cover the bus ticket to get me home.
However, I had enough money to buy myself a 'phone card, so I called Mom telling her I decided to come home by foot. In the end she got in touch with my cousin who took me to his home and made me a tea.
This is important little thing to me - that hot tea. I felt so cold and shaky and it soothed my nerves and felt like a real gift from the Heavens. Since then, I'm a big lover of tea of any kind. Trisha - the tea freak - how funny is that?
What came later was a dose of total chaos mixed with a few spoons of self-destruction and poured with alcohol.
As the informed vampire that I am, I've read all the side effects - physical and psychical - of that damn event, so I would know what to expect from myself. And I gave myself a month for a total freak out when I drank every day, self-harmed, starved myself and read depressing fan fiction.
The month, but did it end? Some of those things stand with me to this day, but I got hold of myself. However, my addictive personality - that I received as a present from my dear Daddy - had different plans and I kept drinking and skipping school.
Not everything was dark though.
I used to take care of some gentle old lady that I called lovingly 'My Lady'. She was a bright star in my dark moments. Unlike my blood family - she hated lying and held a deep respect for me, for which I am thankful. I really loved her and loved keeping her a company. She was my best friend and a role model - she was very sick - she lost her leg due to diabetes, was blind on one eye and had problems with heart. But I never heard her complain - she was always smiling even when she recalled things that made a bow out of my gut.
That Christmas, she left the town to spend time with her family. I didn't know then that I saw her for the last time. I got the information she was sent to hospital - what shocked me deeply was the fact that she hid from me: she had bone cancer.
As soon as My Lady came into my life, she was gone.
Many people came to her funeral, but... not her family... not the priest, but I held the duty to keep the keys to her house, to close it once the coffin was out.
I locked the door and bid her goodbye.
I stopped drinking, much to the dislike of my father, who loves telling me how he doesn't care if I end up on a street, and the relief of Mom, who was ignoring me during this whole time anyway. Oh well. You look only good with the family on the pictures, right?
Making a quick summary: not only had My Lady died, but also a neighbour who helped us when Dad was in depths of alcoholism - a nice lady, whom I treated as my Grandma; my cat; two hamsters; and my cellphone. For the last one, I have no regrets.
I really wanted to be good, to not to let all those deaths be meaningless - I even started exercising daily.
...did you know I can get in trouble, even from such a simple task like performing push ups?
I renewed my arm contusion, that I got as a teen when I was trying Le Parkour. It hurt like hell, and being a true blood Pole that I am, I decided to self medicate with what was on our shelves at home. I found a Tramadol - highly addictive painkiller to which, guess what, I used to be slightly addicted in the past - and happily downed it.
The high... that wonderful feeling of being normal and loved. Suffering from Bipolar Disorder, I cannot really tell you what 'normal' is, but then, on those meds, it felt just right. In the end Tramadol was my first love, my teenage affection that I forgot about for seven long years.
Can you see where I'm heading?
I ended up getting more and more high with every day, until the doses became so big I was losing consciousness. I wanted it. I needed it. Good people were telling me to stop doing this, before something bad would happen and I listened to them, heartlessly... sipping on my new favourite thing.
The bad thing happened when I'd OD'd so much, I lost it while out shopping and brother had to literally drag me back home. Oh, joy, the rumours I heard about me then! Dad was happy, 'cause I reached the bottom. Godspeed.
Every good story, however, has to have a plot twist in the end.
...it didn't feel like a good thing when I was sick to my core and going cold turkey all alone. I was lucky enough I didn't get a stroke or die, because that can happen when you dance with Lady C16H25NO2.
Also, chronology was never my strong point.
But I made it. I was finally clean and ready to strike and rise from the ashes.
I've chosen a new school, that I attend to this day, this time: administration law. Hell yes. A punk rocker going straight into the heart of the system.
I've made a new, great friendships and I passed the point of my deadly 22.
I am 23 years old now and still kicking. And I'm not planning to go to the other side any time soon, not anymore.
I participate in a project from European Union, where I go to courses and learn new things.
I didn't rest artistically either.
Even though I still didn't find a publisher for my novel (it's not like I constantly look for it...), I've kept doing cosplay, outside the Death Note fandom, wrote poems and fan fiction... and enjoy the best part of dinner which is... afternoon tea!
I'm preparing a cosplay project with my brother Izzy, which is going to be GREAT. It's going to be something you haven't seen from anyone before. I won't go into details yet, but we are even plan to engage town's head into it! So look out and beware: I'm just starting and I gonna make it big!
To end it on a light note, a little trivia: for a few years, I've committed myself to my patron Goddess and being her priestess, I live in purity. That was unexpected, ha!
Here ends, for now, the story of a little Trish. But sure as hell, I'm writing a sequel to it, which will be much more amazing! Take care!
You can find me on DeviantART: Queen of Beers
Facebook: Trisha Keehl
I'll leave you with the words of John Paul II:
"Expect things from yourself, even when others do not expect from you..."
But I made it. I was finally clean and ready to strike and rise from the ashes.
I've chosen a new school, that I attend to this day, this time: administration law. Hell yes. A punk rocker going straight into the heart of the system.
I've made a new, great friendships and I passed the point of my deadly 22.
I am 23 years old now and still kicking. And I'm not planning to go to the other side any time soon, not anymore.
I participate in a project from European Union, where I go to courses and learn new things.
I didn't rest artistically either.
Even though I still didn't find a publisher for my novel (it's not like I constantly look for it...), I've kept doing cosplay, outside the Death Note fandom, wrote poems and fan fiction... and enjoy the best part of dinner which is... afternoon tea!
I'm preparing a cosplay project with my brother Izzy, which is going to be GREAT. It's going to be something you haven't seen from anyone before. I won't go into details yet, but we are even plan to engage town's head into it! So look out and beware: I'm just starting and I gonna make it big!
To end it on a light note, a little trivia: for a few years, I've committed myself to my patron Goddess and being her priestess, I live in purity. That was unexpected, ha!
Here ends, for now, the story of a little Trish. But sure as hell, I'm writing a sequel to it, which will be much more amazing! Take care!
You can find me on DeviantART: Queen of Beers
Facebook: Trisha Keehl
I'll leave you with the words of John Paul II:
"Expect things from yourself, even when others do not expect from you..."
If you'd like to feature in Focus on a Fan, then please let me know via the contact form on this site. It would be great to know where we can find the old gang!
