My name is Isaak. I am a mature, well-educated, and well-traveled 29 year old white male, a first-generation American born in the Midwest to expat parents, and now living in Los Angeles. I have worked in energy commodities, health care reform, and business consulting, but at heart I have always wanted to be a writer. And right now, I am writing a story that I have long dreaded to tell-- my own. I am, well, I was high-functioning. By 25, I had a beautiful three-story townhouse condo in a lovely LA neighborhood, a respectable job with a 6-figure income at a Fortune 500 corporation, many great friends, and most importantly, a precious family: two corgis, Dingo and Badger, and the love of my life, Susan. I had defied the malicious demons from my dark, twisted past. My love and success, while not hubristic by any stretch, felt like a triumph over a dreaded Curse. Or so I thought. Despite my constant vigilance, my bold convictions, and my irreverent outlook, my soul was still haunted. And that darkness grew and encroached on every facet of my life. Like something out of the Greek myths I was fascinated with as a child, Fate would pursue me mercilessly, punishing me for my belief that I could be saved. And bit by bit, Fate unraveled the fabric of my life, tearing away everything I loved, cherished, and once possessed. Today I am homeless. I am destitute. Indigent. I have been abjured by those I love, and left behind (once more) by the people I call my friends. My possessions amount to an iPad, a gym-bag full of boxers and white undershirts, and the tiniest shred of hope that my writing will in some impossibly human way save me just before Fate brings it sword down upon my head. Pertinent Facts: I cannot STAND the idea of pity-- self-pity or otherwise. I take responsibility for my actions, and I do NOT make excuses. I hate navel-gazing, and I am not a whiner. To be honest, I am often put-off by the imaturity/adolescent simpering often found on sites like these. I do not doubt anyone's pain, but I loathe being thrown in with/affiliated with suicidal/depressive youth that simply lack education or perspective, which is the prevailing assumption. Then again, I have a pretty high threshold for what constitutes "adversity". I legitimately suffer from what is "unofficially" called Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, or C-PTSD, technically DESNOS (Disorder of Extreme Stress Not Otherwise Specified). This is my Curse, represented as Fate. I suffered extremely severe (I shit you not) physical abuse for roughly 16 years at the hands of my parents-- my father is a sociopath, my mother is a dysthymic victim and perpetrator of abuse. They reinforced the severe and regular beatings with mental and emotional abuse so as to create a totalitarian environment wherein I was isolated socially, belittled and berated for my acceptance of American cultural norms, controlled and monitored in every way imaginable, ostracized, and regularly had the living shit beat out of me for about, say, 16 years. Of course, I was also not exactly a mainstream popular kid in school either-- from the get-go, I was marginalized, bullied, and outcast by the mainstream, despite my genuine struggle for a conventional life. I did not feel sorry for myself. I kept all of this hidden. I was not embittered. I played "the game", and shit, I scored pretty high-- people thought of me as a Type-A/extremely smart/driven asshole kind of guy. I NEVER asked for help or sympathy, and RARELY revealed the nature of my burden, because I witnessed how people are dismissive and disgusted by those they consider weak, crazy, or otherwise weird. It seems almost inevitable that I will be lost to Fate's wrath, but what little fight in me is left is embodied in my passionate, unyielding belief in and love for Humanity. To the last nanosecond of my existence, despite my despair and seemingly infinite agony, I remain true to the beauty of Life, to the boundless splendor of Love, and to my belief that humanity is limitless in its ability to do good. This is my first, my only, and my last call for a rescue, for forgiveness, and for recognition that I am of one of their own.