I don't really remember the first half of my teen years because everything happened at the same time: dramatic divorce of my parents, their fights about money and me, bullying at school, sexual abuse, death of my pets, all happened at the same time. When I complained, my mother said I have no right to complain because I didn't lose a child. These years resulted in neurosis. Well, that's not as bad as the result of the abuse during my pre-school years- I mean bed wetting- I was beaten beacuse of that- why am I too lazy to get up and go to the bathroom? I hate my parents and parents in general.
And when I was about 15 and first time in love (platonic love, nobody would ever love me), one evening I was writing in my diary about him and my brother came in holding a condom in his hand. There goes my love. Funny story.