Post by TINO AMADORE MANCINI on Jan 13, 2013 22:07:39 GMT -5
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[style=width:350px; font-family: josefin sans; font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: 0px; text-align:center; color: #000; line-height: 80%; text-transform: uppercase; padding-bottom: 5px;]TINO AMADORE MANCINI
LAW. RAIN. CAM GIGANDET. NARCOTICS OFFICER. TWENTY-SIX. IMPULSIVE. INTELLIGENT. IRRITABLE.
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,386,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, width:130px; height: 200px; background-image: url(http://i19.photobucket.com/albums/b196/raindance895/cam/1-1.png);][/style] | [style=height: 180px; overflow: auto; font-size: 9px;]I never was a bad person. At least, I never thought I was a bad person. They say people never change, so who knows? Maybe I’ve always been bad, but it just so happened to take twenty-three years for it to really shine through. People talk about dirty cops with disgust, but you never really know who’s dirty and who’s truthful, so in turn you never know whom you’re talking about. You could be talking about your own brother or son or best friend or arch nemesis. However, before I get into that, I’ll win you over by showing how I really wasn’t a bad person before everything began to fall into this pit of … shit, to say the least. I have an extremely Italian family. As in, I have six siblings and a mother who won’t stop feeding me until I’m 500 lbs. There was never any silence in the household, and we all seemed to know everything about each other even if we didn’t want to. I have four brothers and two sisters – three older brothers, two younger sisters, and one younger brother to be exact. We’re all really close even if we make each other want to rip our hair out at times … but isn’t that normal? Sibling love is never a sweet love but more of a tough love. I was always the somewhat rebellious of my brothers and sisters. I’m somewhere in the middle, and everyone knows that the oldest and youngest are the most loved. Hell, I even love my youngest sister the most out of all six of my siblings. Maybe that’s bad to say, but she is my favorite and I’m not going to lie. Hah. I’m clearly a truly honest person … but clearly I’m not anymore, or maybe I never was, I don’t know. Anyways, Cressida is the baby of the entire family. She’s kind of lost, it seems, I don’t know … she’s so young, and she needs to have her family to help her out as she grows older. I’m not saying that my parents aren’t taking good care of her or anything … my parents love us all a little too much. They just aren’t as strict and overbearing as they were with me and my older brothers … and even my younger sister Genesis. Anyways, I went to school like the rest of us. I stayed in Boston for college, and studied law. I always wanted to help the city of Boston since it really did turn to shit because of all the mafia wars and such. I don’t even remember when we lost our city to those people. At least, I began studying law with good intentions … not saying that they’re completely gone, but I’ve somewhat lost my way and don’t plan on changing that any time soon. It was during college when I met Lila. She was beautiful and the love of my life … or so I thought. I was a bad boyfriend. I would forget to call her, I would stand her up on dates, I would come home late and obliterated when we lived together, I was an alcoholic and snorted coke at least twice a week, and I was just all around not a good boyfriend. I would get angry and call her names; I had broken a few cups or dishes as well. I wish she had been able to accept all of my flaws because I really truly did love her. At the time I didn’t understand, but I do now, and I’ll spend forever trying to make up for it. But it’s true that people don’t change. We were twenty years old when Lila got pregnant. We had been together for about two years (we started dating when we were freshman). Now, our relationship didn’t end until our daughter, Alex, turned one. I was a horrible boyfriend, and a horrible father. One of the main reasons it ended, besides the fact that I was a complete asshole, was because I never wanted to settle down and get married. I tried proposing after she left me, but she wouldn’t accept it. She wouldn’t accept any of my apologies or pleas. I still have the ring, and it will always make me sad for the rest of my life – or that’s how it feels right now. I became a cop almost right out of school when I was twenty-one. I was still with Lila at the time, and Alex had just been born. I became a narcotics officer because that’s what I always seemed to be interested most in. I mean, it was probably because I had a history in the matter. I was a cokehead in college, and even in high school. I went into rehab before Alex was born because I promised Lila I would, and I was clean until Lila left me. I relapsed extremely quickly, and became even more of an alcoholic than I was before. Even though Lila disowned me and refused to let me see my daughter, she expected me to send her money consistently. The problem is, being a cop really doesn’t pay that much. So at twenty-three years old, I began my work in drug dealing. It’s so easy seeing as all my drugs come from the confiscated drugs in the evidence room at work. They make it all too easy for me. It’s funny because we all get drug tested at work, but since my superior happens to be a costumer of mine, my drug tests always seem to come up negative. It’s like magic. Now I probably sound like a horrible person to you. I was practically an abusive boyfriend, a negligent father, and I am a drug dealing narcotics officer of the Boston Police Department. The worst part is that I don’t really plan on changing any of my habits. I dabble with coke every now and then (usually at least once a week) and still binge drink a majority of the week. Luckily, I’m allowed visits with Alex once every two weeks, and I try my hardest to be a far better father than I have been in the past. It would kill me for my daughter to grow up with absolutely no father in her life. I’ve had to give up trying to get Lila back seeing as that she now has a fiancée and is planning to be married next month. She had the nerve to send me an invitation, but I’m not going. It would kill me to be there. I don’t know where it all went wrong. I grew up with a perfectly loving family, I’m close with every single one of my six siblings, and I’m not necessarily a mean person. I’m more of a good person with bad habits … really bad habits that I don’t necessarily intend to stop. |
