My Llife
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My Story so Far.
It all begins on the island of Borneo, Indonesia. Matt was bought into this horrible world of sin. My parents were Christians and decided to try and raise me as a Christian. What they didn’t realize was they just brought to the world, either a great spiritual leader or the most hellish child of Satan. All they had to do was raise me right.
At the age of three my dad and mom would punish me for hurting myself. I ran head first into walls and sat down and smashed my head as hard as I could on the tile floor until I got my way. A couple times they had to take me to the hospital for gashes in my head. I would love to further agitate them just to hit me.
I turned five when we moved to New Zealand and my dad went to America. He left my mom with us three kids as he worked in America. One of the reasons my hate for God grew was for seven years I didn’t see my dad, with the exception of Christmas. The family life was going smooth for about a year, until at the age of six I realized daddy wasn’t there for me. My anger and hatred built to where I would not even mention my dads name, not so much as I hated God for letting the situation occur.
I got into fights at school just to feel pain, I had nothing else to feel, I was completely empty. To make things worse the punishment of my behavior was out of control. Beatings would take place for a full hour. My legs have scars all over them from my mom beating them to where I had to beg for mercy. I acquired a dent in my head where my mom got so mad at me one day she hit me in the forehead with a bat.
After forced to Sunday school I still did not understand why lovers of God would be haters of their own flesh and blood. The hatred of God was a lot greater than the hatred of my dad. He had his own people beat me because he cannot teach them how to raise a kid. At the age of eight, my anger arose to help me stab a kid with a thorn and smack a kids face on the pavement. All my built up anger unleashed the beast of a legion of demons. I was put up in front of an assembly to show I was one of the ten worse kids in school. That did not embarrass me, but it caused me to have no respect for the teachers or the principle.
My principle was in his office one day. I asked to see him. When I proceeded into his office my thought was destroy. Slowly opening up the door to see if he was in there he asked me to enter. I stood in front of a pretty big dude. He commenced to lecture me about the unacceptable behavior. My ears turned off and continued to nod my head. At the most unexpected moment I lunged. He held me off, but I grabbed a pencil from his desk and stabbed him in the arm and ran all the way home. Of course I was expelled from school.
From 9-12 I attended a school where fights were a common thing. None were reported and teachers never yelled or got angry at us. It was awesome. I told my brother to start arguments with people and I would arrive in and annihilate them. Seizing a 2 by 4, I advised my brother to go find the biggest worst kids that harassed everyone. I will make this school bow to me. There were these four brothers all about the same age as me. Shaka, ZinZan, Marvin, and Roawidi. These brothers picked on everyone, they were the power house of the school. I do not have to explain anymore, but my respect was earned by beating them to a pulp. My parents learned of this when the kids’ grandparents came and talked to my mom. My mom taught me something that could be very bad to society. She taught me how to box.
The violence started getting less and less. My mom became a close friend teaching and encouraging me to get into fights. Then a bomb was dropped. My parents wanted to move to America. I had no say in the matter, even though I surfed and swam everyday I was there. I knew my surfing career, that had started to go semi pro, would come to an end. I packed my bags and was waiting for the time to come. On the day of October 31, 1999, I stood out infront of my driveway. The wind started to creep