I was born in 1992, a year of change. I was born in the family is very friendly and great, a lot of uncles and aunts, cousins, and not counted on his fingers. Ros and I grew up without a father. As I told my mother, she was kicked out (divorced) it after I was born, allegedly because he drank a lot.
As a result of me no one planted (from birth) love of physical culture. I have two older brothers (but at that time they were at university), they were later tried with me to do something (for which they thank you very much), but to no avail (below explain why I wrote it).
It was 2001 times Yupi and carefree fun for children. This year did not promise anything good for me. At that time, my mother was not around. She worked all my life as I can remember, even now. To feed three dunce on her neck. She worked as a teacher in the same school, which I attended. She was a teacher of physics and computer science (sometimes math). She won a prize in the national "Teacher of the Year" and has left a well-deserved vacation. And so, on closer to the fun ...
I was born in the countryside: cows and other livestock. In childhood I was forced to help the cousins (yes, I myself did not mind). One day, I remember like now: the evening; It shone hot summer sun, warm breeze, and the persistent smell of cow (sorry) shit =). Being very curious child (like all children), I loved all kinds of interesting things. It was boring, I was looking for adventure. And I found the same =)
On the ground lay something like a glass. "ZOOM!" - I cried, two other people (who were with me) came up and broke all my hopes. It was the bottom of a broken bottle. Grieved, I went on. And at one point I heard a strange sound. Turning around, I got hit. Further as in Hollywood films, memory lapses started. Whether losing consciousness, whether in the heat of passion, I remember only fragments: 1. Two other person something messy scream. 2. I am standing by the Soviet washbasin me bandage. 3. I am terribly shakes, I'm in the ER. 4. I opertsionnoy on the table, how to prick of pain in his right hand, and an oxygen mask.
As it turned out, one of those who were with me, threw up from the bottom of a bottle and hit him with a stick (must be the same than the one chasing cows) .Estestvenno, he did so not on purpose. And at the command of Lady Luck, it bedplate hit me in the left cheek. "Jonah!" - You have thought? Far from it, the cut went right on his cheek, a few centimeters from his left eye. I escaped (in my opinion) more easily.
To quartered the person who did it, the families and adults, I said - I did cut myself, allegedly he threw bedplate up and looked at him. As they believed in it, I do not know =) At the time I was about 10 years of trauma, the scar on the floor face, constant ache. Naturally I closed in itself. At school I was considered a fool (which is itself cut). From this it was even harder. Mother tried to help, but it was too late, I finally and irrevocably closed.
Then I go on, if you like. Tired of typing =) Thank you for your attention.