Story about June 6th 2006

At that time I lived in New Castle. I had 7 pet chickens, all of which had been hand raised and hand fed their entire lives. Let's just say they were VERY friendly chickens. On the night of the 6th, someone came to my house in the middle of the night and killed them. No, not killed them... tortured them and ripped their heads off. So when we woke up we found our oldest chicken with her head completely detached and turned inside out. She was laid out on our porch right outside our door, her head just a few inches away.  Ebony was the sweetest chicken and she had always seemed so wise to me. She had old eyes and it was as if we had known each other in another life.  Next we found Rusty, my only Road Island Red, in the shed, her feathers were everywhere and I at least found peace that she had fought for her life before dying behind a bale of straw. We found Sunny, one of the twin White Leghorns, beneath the lilac tree. Blackie died a few hours later from shock. PeDee's body was never found. As for Whitey, the other Leghorn, and Angel, they survives their injuries, but had lost their minds in the process, either that or they had extensive brain damage, but they lived a few more years before dying of pneumonia.

So here's my question... How sick do you have to be to hurt something so helpless and innocent as a chicken. Seriously? How can someone hurt another person's pets... yeah okay maybe they didn't know that these were pets, but still they trespassed on privet property just to kill some little girl's chickens. I am well aware that my family isn't well liked, that I'm not very well liked, but don't take it out on animals. I don't care if it was about religion either... What those people did was wrong and I hope someday you get what you have given.

Hikikomori

I'm starting to wonder about myself...again. I really believe if it weren't for school, I wouldn't come out of my house.... I pretty much live on my computer; on the internet. I think it started happening when I was seven. I hated school, I hated people, so I would often fake being sick for long periods of time. Just so I could be away from everything that hurt me. Then my 'illnesses' started to become real. I felt so much anxiety that I couldn't function... it was around this time that I started to have panic attacks. I was abused as a child, physically and emotionally. I was also endlessly harassed by other school children. Why? I really don't know, everything I did was wrong... the way I dressed, the way my mother had my hair cut, the way I would just keep quiet and never speak in class. I barely cared for anyone, never really had a crush until I was 12. I barely cared for myself, or what happened to me. I guess it was all those years of being called 'worthless'... or a 'stupid bitch'.... When I was around 9 I finally stood up to my mother.... now we would get into fist fights.... literal fist fights. I was young, weak, scared... but at nine years old, I finally really took a stand. My father, who is deeply clinically depressed, was pretty much non existant... though he is the one I was closest to. Though I would never call myself a 'daddy's girl', I wasn't close to anyone else.

I know hikikomori's never leave their rooms/houses, but I wouldn't if I didn't have obligations...