Number of times I've had my heart broken: three (1990 - J., 1995 - Flame, 1997 - Chris).
Number of hearts I've broken: romantically speaking, none. I did once leave a non-romantic friend (Chris, 1997) and caused pain. there were reasons though. I don't regret it.
Number of people I've kissed: two.
Number of people I've had sex with (besides myself): either two or none, depending on how you define "sex." whatever it was, it wasn't very good at all with either of them. with the first one (Flame - 1995), substantial parts of it were nonconsensual and psychologically torturous. with the second one (Justin - 1997), it was just loveless and tiresome and stressful and aggravating and I soon decided it was not worth my trouble anymore.
Number of continents I've lived in: one.
Number of drugs I've taken illegally: none.
Number of people I would classify as true, could trust with my life type friends: One at least (Frank Aqueno), possibly a whole lot more; these days it seems that a lot of people care intensely about me from a distance who hardly even introduce themselves to me or tell me about it.
Number of people I consider my enemies: I consider huge conglomerates of people who share certain mindsets to be my enemies, but my grudges are not primarily against specific individuals, even though I could certainly name some names who've spoken on behalf of the enemy mindsets louder than others.
Number of people from high school that I've stayed in contact with: three.
Number of people from elementary school that I've stayed in contact with: one.
Number of piercings: none.
Number of tattoos: none.
Number of times my name has appeared in the newspaper: the name "Gayle Madwin" has appeared once in a newspaper article (that article appeared in half a dozen or so different newspapers, though) and once in a magazine article (just this month). my real name is less famous though, and has appeared in the newpaper just once, in my grandmother's obituary.
Number of scars on my body: hmm. I have a cat scratch scar on my little finger.
Number of things in my past that I regret: nothing really major. I find it problematic to regret things, even really unpleasant things, because my mistakes have led to learning experiences that helped make me who I am. to regret them would be to regret who I am, and I like being who I am.