Hard stories that hurt to tell..

As a child, preteen, and teenager I was sexually abused by my Grandfather. He was how I learnt about sexual contact. In the long term I believe that, due to this abuse, something in me has gone awry, and my relationships aren't real. Pieces of me splitter and flake away. I'm self conscious, quiet and distant; but it's not all because of this. My parents split apart. My dad was.. emotionally abusing. The middle school and high school experiences of bullying and cruelty towards me bent my psychological status. I'm intolerant of any bullying now, and distance myself further. I run from pain and confrontation. I've lost My step Father, and my first pet I was given died to parvo. I barely got my Diploma with a back story of math deficiency, and a mini stroke when I was sixteen. I didn't get a job until a year ago, though I had been applying for more then four years. I tried for college previously, and found I'd be paying 500$ per month, which I could not. I've given up dreams. I parted from a seven year relationship, due to unstable and unreliable conditions. I had grown, he had not. I resist reality, I hate it most of the time, people are cruel and inconsiderate. I find solace in fantasies, and joy in fictional characters. I can't stand on my own two feet, and if my mother ever passes away, I fear I'll loose all connections to reality. Noone has proven me wrong in my little bit of hope for humanity that is left. I sometimes wish I could bring fantasy into reality. But I'm not god, I am merely a writer, a story teller, and a might-be psychotic one at that.