It was a dark and stormy night. Thats how all the books started, right? all the good ones anyway. I was supposed to be a great writer. My father was. His father was. I'm sure my mom wrote SOMETHING before she kicked the bucket pushing me out. But it was in my genes. I was DESTINED to write. But...i just couldn't do it. I got a chapter into the story. I got a stanza into the poem. I even tried writing music. I couldn't figure out where all the squiggles and dots were supposed to go.
Nothing was ever very good, just mindless bable sometimes. I tried using my emotions, but I was never really sure what they were. Sad i got. I understood that one. Happy...kinda, I got happy when I got a new toy as a kid. I got happy when i got my first kiss from Debby White underneath the bleachers during that football game. But, happiness as all the great writters used to talk about...that i don't know if i ever quite got.
When I first started, I thought i wanted to be just like my dad, he was happy. I mean...he looked happy. I thought he was a pretty cool guy he never got to angry, and never really enforced any rules like my friends' parents did. I never had to be home by 11. I never had to wash the dishes or do to many chores. I guess I wasn't spoiled, just i only had to look out for me. That and we ate out a lot. No dishes to wash if you're at Mickey D's
All through High School, I thought i was hot shit. I flunked out of classes cause i'd write so much and was with tons of girls. They all seemed to like the moody artist part of me. I'd write them a love poem, and they'd be wrapped around my finger.
Then I got told I sucked. No one ever told me I sucked. People didn't even correct my fucking grammar, I thought i was perfect. NOTHING was wrong with my writing, you were just an illiterate fucktard.
yeah...i called my 11th grade English teacher a fucktard...
This man was the one that would eventually help me to realize my full potential as a person. Realize that life wasn't about guessing what emotions were and WAS about experiencing those emotions.
Now that i'm here...and i look back on my life as its about to end at the ripe old age of 32, I think...it wouldn't have been worth it if not for him.
GOD DAMN IT
Nothing was ever very good, just mindless bable sometimes. I tried using my emotions, but I was never really sure what they were. Sad i got. I understood that one. Happy...kinda, I got happy when I got a new toy as a kid. I got happy when i got my first kiss from Debby White underneath the bleachers during that football game. But, happiness as all the great writters used to talk about...that i don't know if i ever quite got.
When I first started, I thought i wanted to be just like my dad, he was happy. I mean...he looked happy. I thought he was a pretty cool guy he never got to angry, and never really enforced any rules like my friends' parents did. I never had to be home by 11. I never had to wash the dishes or do to many chores. I guess I wasn't spoiled, just i only had to look out for me. That and we ate out a lot. No dishes to wash if you're at Mickey D's
All through High School, I thought i was hot shit. I flunked out of classes cause i'd write so much and was with tons of girls. They all seemed to like the moody artist part of me. I'd write them a love poem, and they'd be wrapped around my finger.
Then I got told I sucked. No one ever told me I sucked. People didn't even correct my fucking grammar, I thought i was perfect. NOTHING was wrong with my writing, you were just an illiterate fucktard.
yeah...i called my 11th grade English teacher a fucktard...
This man was the one that would eventually help me to realize my full potential as a person. Realize that life wasn't about guessing what emotions were and WAS about experiencing those emotions.
Now that i'm here...and i look back on my life as its about to end at the ripe old age of 32, I think...it wouldn't have been worth it if not for him.
GOD DAMN IT
