Everyday I’m Strugglin’…
I’m in a weird place right now. I feel emotionless, but full of emotions. I don’t know where I’m going, where I’m heading, and I don’t rightly care. I’m growing, but I’m losing parts of myself.
I don’t know what’s going on with me, but that is not to say I have lost hope. Maybe I have reached a certain point of my Zen practices where I am just in the moment, living according to whatever is in store. Maybe I’m not taking the initiative, not putting myself out there, talking to people, enjoying time away from my solitude. Maybe I’m just at a loss for words, a temporary dike within the river of my mind.
Whatever the case may be, I guess I can only sit and see how things shall progress. My consciousness and subconsciousness are intertwined, and I am unsure how this will bode, but I, as always, must keep pushing forward.
I repeat myself a lot, especially when it comes to these blogs I write, but sometimes I just cannot think of more to talk about. I cannot breathe the clear air of relief into my lungs of palatable despair. I do not intend to distress, or make it enjoyable for consumption, I just accentuate the stories as I see it. Everything I say is the truth as I see it, and if I have certain falsities, I would be doing injustice to myself. I admit that I am wrong at times, but on my emotions, and my life, I stand steadfast.
The biggest theme I’ve ever had in my life is Isolation. It is a constant that has remained for many years, but I have been unsuccessful in reaching out as I had originally hoped, lashing out, and making myself seem like a crazy person, a fraud to my psyche, a false self that was developed in conjunction with my psychological state for many years, and my emotionally distant estranged father fueling the flames.
I am no angel. I gave up at points, wondering if I would ever reach a state of understanding, or if I was just sopping up a bunch of shit with paper towels. I’m not proud of the stupid decisions that have made me who I am. The enemies I’ve made, the friends I’ve lost or squandered away due to my own negligence… I was young and foolish, and I’m STILL young and foolish. I am not a fool per se, but if decisions determine the man, then I am one.
I really wish I didn’t have to feel so alone in this. I wish I had someone I could talk to other than just my therapists, or my friends. Ironic since I am putting this up on a public blog, available to all that wish to read it. I just wish I could know that everything will be as good as I hope, or if my fear of failure will consume my very being. I am a hopeless romantic in the pursuit of what I wish to attain, and it shows, be that women, film, or otherwise.
For now, things are like this, and though I cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel, I progress further into the dark. I can only hope I’m not walking in circles.
Why I say what I say, and Why I mean what I say
Folks, the last 2 days have been filled with arguments ranging from the foolish to the down right wrong, but I have maintained myself and my position on these subjects.
I don’t lie about how I feel.
Most cannot handle the brutal honesty I bring to the table, and they leave after they’ve used me for whatever purpose I’ve served. But they don’t know the full story.
In 2004, I was living in a room not much bigger than a closet, in a mold covered house, poverty stricken, with no friends, and enemies all around me. My father, the moron that he was, had done some terrible things, and lied to not only the law, but to his own family. This continued on for a long, long time. But during that time in that space, I made a promise to myself.
I promised I would always tell the truth, and I would face the consequences, no matter what they were.
When someone you want to trust lies to you all the time, it instills a sense of righteousness within you. You want to redeem others by redeeming yourself, proving that you are not the liar the other person is.
I am far away from what my Dad is, and was. I tell the truth with brutal efficiency, and it usually gets me into trouble. But so be it. I am not afraid of speaking my mind, and if it means I lose friends, make enemies, and generally disgust others, then that is how it must be.
I will not compromise my personal beliefs for the sake of my personal well being. Sure, I will lie to protect others, but that is different. And when it comes to creativity, new ideas, and thoughts, I am always open.
Sometimes, the unpopular opinion or decision is the right one. I am the personification of this ideal. One day, I’m sure, you’ll understand what I mean, but for now, I shall continue as I have been; being Henry.
Lamentations of a Disgruntled Youth
I’m not happy today.
I am feeling down on myself for the first time in a while, and I know what’s causing it.
I am lonely.
Even in this great position I’m in, all the successes I’ve had, all the people I’ve helped… I still feel like something is missing from my life. I KNOW something’s missing from my life.
I try to hang out with friends as much as possible, but this doesn’t work to meet my own ends.
I desire companionship, love, interest, and physical romance, the kind where I will just do what the other person wants without a thought for myself.
For a man, normally what they look for is sex, and undoubtedly, I am, but I want more. You could fling beautiful women my way, but if they don’t have that certain spark, it’s a waste of time.
Recently, a friend from years past deleted me from Facebook because of something I did. Though I accepted this, she took major offense. I hadn’t talked to her in years, but at one time, she was my best friend, and I was in love with her.
I had told her prior that I was, and I didn’t find out until later that she felt the same way for me. Until yesterday, I still did have some slight feelings for her. Sure, she had been out of my life for some time, but we grew up together, and we used to drive around all day looking for things to do. Those were fun and jaded times. Drugs got in the way.
Now, years later, I feel sad about my missed opportunities, but I realize that it was not meant to be. That being said, it still stings. We went our separate ways, and we have become two different people in a sea of billions.
I thought I could save her from her fate, but I failed, not because I didn’t try, but because it was too far gone. There was nothing left for me to do, and it lead to the worst night of my life.
Though I wished for it not to end this way, I cannot help but feel a sense of closure. That chapter of my life is now over, and what lies ahead is the future, my future.
I guess if I keep working hard, and do what I do, love will find me.
I hope it does soon.
Bobby & The Five-Dollar Bill
Before I get to the good stuff, a little back story:
I originally wrote this in the Spring of 06’, and it was my last short story I ever wrote for my teacher. It took me 2 hours to write this, and I was surprised about the result.
My teacher gave me an A+, and said it was the best short story by a student he’d ever read, and I was ultimately praised as his protege in his class. I was only 3 kids to get an A in his class that year, so needless to say, I love writing.
For a time, I lost the want to write, slipped into jaded chaos, and lost the original copy of the story.
After coming out of this lost period, I returned to writing, started writing on twitter, blogged, and blogged some more.
It’s about 2 years now since I’ve been a regular and active member of the online community in some respect. I have a reasonable following, have written some amazing material, experimented, and yet, I long to try and truly and better this once-thought-lost ability.
I realize that I have to respect the past in order to become a better writer in the future, and in doing so, I must share some of my past with you, my community, my friends, and loved ones.
Recently, my Mom asked me to try and find this piece. Ironically enough, it was on my thumb drive, though without a cover page. The original piece of paper is long since missing or gone, tucked away in some forgotten corner with my 1st Place Blue Ribbon Indio Fair paintings I did in 1st & 2nd grade, maybe even along with some of even earlier material.
Of this, I am not sure.
So I proudly present to you, Bobby And The Five-Dollar Bill;
It was the summer of 1947, and Bobby Thomas had just finished painting the fence around his house. Twice a year for the last 3 years, he had had to paint the fence with a new coat to make it look brand new again. He lived in a small house in the middle of Maine, in a small town far away from the city. There were only a few places to shop in town; Willy Johnson’s General Store, a gas station, Edna’s clothing store, and Frank’s Mechanic Shop. Bobby had lived here all of his life, and he loved every minute of it.
Bobby was a young boy of about seven. He had red hair and freckles, and he was pretty skinny. He usually wore a striped shirt with khaki pants and worn out sneakers. He lived in the suburbs with his mother and father, and had a Labrador named Lucky. He was kind of your normal, average young man, but today was different. His whole life as he knew it was about to change forever.
Once Bobby had stopped painting the fence, he went inside, where his mom was waiting with a pitcher of lemonade. She was a tall woman with blue eyes and blonde hair. She was wearing a flowered dress and a matching apron cleaning the dishes in the sink.
“Did you finish painting the fence, Bobby?”
“Yes, mama, I’ll put the paint in the garage in a minute.”
Bobby served himself a glass of lemonade, and his mom gave him a turkey sandwich with no crust. Bobby was a fast eater, so he finished the sandwich in about one minute flat. He thanked his mother, and started to run outside.
“Bobby, would you come here a moment?”
Bobby’s father had called from the other room, and Bobby immediately went there. His father was a large, muscular man, with a small scar on his hand from serving in the Afrika Corps near Egypt. He had a very nice manner about him, and he was a very kind and loving man. Bobby walked toward him.
“Did you finish all of your chores?”
“Did you feed Lucky too?”
His father dug into his pants pocket and took out a wallet. He pulled out a single quarter.
“Young man, this is your allowance for this week.”
“Thank you so much, Papa!”
He gave his father a big hug and ran out. His father’s last words as he ran out the door were ‘save some of it!’
As Bobby ran out the door, he passed by a gutter. He stopped running and looked down at the ground. There was something under the leaves near the concrete. He moved the leaves and couldn’t believe his eyes. There under all of this was a singular five-dollar bill. Bobby nearly had a heart attack when he saw this. It was the biggest amount of money he had seen in his entire life.
He proceeded to pick up to check if it was truly the real thing. He wiped it off with his hand and looked again. It was definitely a five-dollar bill. Bobby stared at it for a few moments as he held it in his hand, and then he started walking away.
Bobby started to think ‘did someone drop this?’ and ‘what should I do with it?’ Bobby kept walking towards town with the money in his hand. As he got closer to town, he heard a voice call to him.
It was Jimmy Hertzman. He was a mischievous, mean, and spoiled child. He lived in one of the biggest houses in the town. He was short, had dirty blonde hair, and wore a collared shirt and a pair of shorts.
Bobby tried not to look at him; Jimmy would only get him into trouble. Jimmy ran toward him and grabbed the money out of his hand.
“What’s this Bobby? Huh? What’s this?” said Jimmy erratically.
He snatched it back from Jimmy’s hands.
“It’s nothing, Jimmy.”
“I’m not sure it’s nothing.” Jimmy said with some poutiness in his voice.
Bobby started to walk again with the money in his hand, trying to get as far away from him as possible. Suddenly, Jimmy darted beside him, grabbed the money out of his hand, and started running down the street screaming, “I got it! I got it!”
Bobby went into a rage. He was so angry; his eyes were completely blood red. He started to run, but he would have to go faster or else he wouldn’t catch up with Jimmy. Bobby ran so fast after him, time seemed to slow down as he got closer. Bobby finally got close enough to him to grab it. But he couldn’t take it anymore, and he lost it. Bobby tackled Jimmy with a great force and they rolled for a few seconds and stopped.
After a minute or so of no one moving, Bobby started to get up. His nose was bloody, his shirt was covered in mud, and his arm was cut. He brushed himself off and stood up. He started to shake Jimmy to rouse him up.
“Jimmy,” he said, pushing him some more. “Jimmy.”
There was no answer.
“JIMMY!” Bobby shouted at him, “CAN YOU HEAR ME?”
There still was no answer.
Jimmy was lying face down with one of his arms out in front of him, and one of his legs to the side of him. Bobby tried to roll him over. It took one or two tries, but eventually, Bobby got him to roll over. Just by looking at his face, Bobby knew the horrible truth. Jimmy was dead.
Bobby stared at Jimmy’s lifeless body for a minute or so, looking over the damage. He had a very large cut on his head, a broken nose, two of his teeth were broken, and his lips were cut open badly. Bobby kept looking at the corpse with a fright. He thought, ‘what drove me to do such a thing?’ Then suddenly, an eerie voice started to talk to him.
“I did, Bobby.”
He turned around. There was nothing there.
He turned back to Jimmy and the five-dollar bill was on his chest. He grabbed it and stared closely.
“BOO!” The five-dollar bill flew out of his hand and started to hover in front of his face.
“W-What are you?” Bobby said, trembling.
“Don’t you know? I am the five-dollar bill, I am the reason that you attacked this poor, poor young man.” He said, putting a bit sarcasm on the poor part.
Bobby realized that the five-dollar bill was right. He had tried to walk away from Jimmy to not get in trouble, but Jimmy tried to see what he had in his hand. Jimmy wouldn’t stop bugging him, and he took his money, ran away from him, and Bobby caught up and tackled him, killing Jimmy in the process.
“Do you not see the fault of your ways, Bobby?”
“This is your doing, and you must take responsibility for what you have done, what will you do?”
Bobby had not thought of this yet. He killed Jimmy, and no one else was responsible. There were no witnesses, and not one police officer. The only one was the five-dollar bill, which he thought was only a figment of his imagination. Bobby started to scream. He was scared, scared of everything. Every house, every tree, every sidewalk, every single thing on the entire street had seen him. The walls had eyes, the trees had ears, and the wind whispered.
The five-dollar bill shaped itself into a smile and started to laugh. It started to fly away in the wind. Bobby tried to catch it, but he was too late. It was gone. He ran away before anyone could see him near the area, and see him near the body itself.
Five miles away, in a forest where no one lived or went, two strange figures stepped out of a silver metal saucer.
“Do you understand now?” said a voice, seemingly familiar to the voice of the five-dollar bill. “Humans cannot comprehend their actions.”
“I can see that conclusion,” said the other voice, showing no emotion. “They do not understand their faults, they commit crimes, even murder, over insignificant matter such as money. These humans are full of greed. Even wars are started over greed. This little boy killed another little boy over greed, and he proceeded to run away from the problem instead of admitting he did it. Let us hope this does not continue to happen as time goes on in this seemingly simian race.” The two figures got into the ship and flew off into the sky, not be seen again in some uncertain time.
Copyright Henry Abrams 2006
Knowledge is Power
In all things, we must have faith and confidence to do what we think is right. Our instinct is usually always correct depending on the context of the situation, and the factors. At times, we make mistakes which lead to us feeling guilt and pitying ourselves. This is counter-productive. I’ve been there, and I’m still there. But this is a poison to our minds, our bodies, and to our overall quality of life. I’ve seen it happen with my father, and I don’t want it to happen to me.
I had a long conversation about all of this on twitter with @DarksideLawyer and @WriteWendy, but there are forces at work that even I cannot control. It is tough for me to go in one direction when I feel that my path lies in many. I have to the make the ultimate choice, to choose the paths that I take, the decisions I make, and I’m well aware of potential consequences. I do not have much to lose at this point.
The main problem I face is people pushing me to go in one direction over the other. That is why I have imbalance, and feel misdirection on a consistent basis. I have healing to do, but I also need to do something to occupy my time as opposed to just sitting around and wallowing for the rest of my life wondering what could have been. I cannot change the past, but I can change my future.
I am self-aware, but I don’t practice what I preach. I know what I could do, but I don’t know what I will do. At times, I don’t feel as though the options suit me, so I wait it out. This works at times, but other times, it leads me into a disadvantageous position. Despite that, I learn, and I continue forward.
I talk about all this a lot, I talk about the same shit over and over a lot, but I can’t make up my mind. I’ve been damaged. I was manipulated, pushed around, I was stomped on. It’s like someone systematically broke every bone in my body, then set the wounds, and added shackles so I could not escape.
My Dad told my sister when she saw them that the job of a father is to fix things. No. A father is someone who provides emotional support and DOESN’T try to fix everything. You can’t fix someone who isn’t broken. I’m not broken, I’m just confused, and I’m confused because I was almost snapped in half trying to be fixed. It’s a vicious, looming, dangerous cycle that continued for years. It didn’t end for a long time, and I’m just FINALLY getting over SOME of it, not all of it. There is still residual effects, ones that will last for as long as I exist.
But I fought through it all because I KNEW at my core that I couldn’t give up. I wouldn’t give up. My spirit might be damaged, and it may be permanent, but a scar is better than not being able to heal at all, having a constant wound that needs to be covered. I went into my own personal hell for about a year, and I’m not talking about recently.
In 2007, I locked myself in the room above the garage in the house we were living in at the time, smoking weed everyday, playing videogames, watching movies, masturbating, not having any contact with society whatsoever. The community we lived in was gated, and the house was small. My Dad rented it even though it was well beyond what we could afford, and we ended up running away from the house in order to get out of the lease agreement, but this is not my point. I was so alone, I started to explore my mind. I gave in to my darkness, I constantly thought about suicide, how my friends had betrayed me, how my family was a bunch of crazy fools. I became paranoid, almost to the point where I was schizophrenic. I didn’t want this, but I realize now that I needed it to prepare myself for what I face now. The room above the garage was my kingdom, and I was God. But then as time went by, I started to realize how lonely I was, and the loneliness became anger, and anger became hate, and hate became suffering. I had the same thing happen to me this last year, but it was different. I had already been through it once. I was prepared, as I said before.
When I finally left my dark place, I found the light. The light was within. This is why I talk so much about duality. There is the demon, the dormant, impulsive, overwhelming schemer who comes out when times are tough and lies, is mischievous, and makes me suffer. And there is the light, a caring, powerful, compassionate figure, a true hero. I am both a saint and a sinner. They’re not personalities, as I am fully aware of all my actions at all times, but the different characteristics come out depending on the situation. Writing this now, I am both. When I am compassionate, I am the saint, and when I am brooding, I am the sinner. Both have their weaknesses and their strengths, but when one overtakes the other, it causes problems. There has to be a balance, or one side will win over the other, which is what the dark side has done twice.
I have the Knowledge, and the Power to fight myself. I know too much about life to be so young, but it is the suffering that will do me service. Buddha had to suffer in order to become Buddha. Jesus had to suffer to become Jesus. John Lennon had to suffer to become John Lennon. And I will suffer to become who I’m supposed to be.
That is why I am so open. The potential for greatness can happen for me, but I must believe it is possible for it to happen. Believing is one thing, knowing is another thing entirely.
I hope this gets to you
LEBOWSKI: It’s funny. I can look back on a life of achievement, on challenges met, competitors bested, obstacles overcome. I’ve accomplished more than most men, and without the use of my legs. What… What makes a man, Mr. Lebowski?
DUDE: I don’t know, sir.
LEBOWSKI: Is it… is it, being prepared to do the right thing? Whatever the price? Isn’t that what makes a man?
DUDE: Sure. That and a pair of testicles.
- From The Big Lebowski
Last year, 2010, was by far the hardest year of my short existence. A lot happened in a short period of time, I divulged into madness and chaos, I suffered, I smoked weed and drank to try and mask my problems, I grew my hair out so I look like a crazy person, I met good people, I dropped bad people, but the worst person I know went to jail. That person is my father.
My father, despite his best efforts, is not a man that I can easily talk about. He gave into himself instead of doing the right thing. He became the very thing he didn’t want to be; a toxic, lying, overweight, unhappy man. Most of the last quarter of 2010 was suffering over him leaving because he manipulated me so bad, that I believed that I had no value. It will take a long time to heal the damage he left in his wake.
I am not expecting anyone to understand where I am coming from, nor try to. But see my words, and understand that I will not give up hope for my future. My friend Jen Friel (http://talknerdytomelover.com) wrote earlier that we have the ability to change ourselves, and our lives if we make the effort to do so. I am ready, in this new year, this new decade, to stop beating myself up over the past, and move forward with my present, and the future.
Yesterday, I was hungover, but my mom suggested that the best way to try and get over my depression and suffering was to write to my dad. I said in the past that I had not wanted to talk to the man at all, but she said that telling him how I feel would make me feel better, and I should say whatever I feel. Well, I wrote it, and I feel so much better having did.
So I present this letter to you, in hopes that you will better understand how I feel, and why I feel so much anger and grief towards my own father. It is brutal and shocking, but it is how I feel, and all of it is the truth. You’re wondering why I would do this? I’m not afraid anymore. I feel better knowing that thousands, if not millions of people could read this because people need to know that no matter what you are going through, no matter how severe your situation, no matter what happens: You are not alone.
It’s taken me a long time to write this because I didn’t think I had anything to say to you, but I do. I have more words for you than I have for most people, and I am going to make you suffer as I have suffered through your constant, fake, tormenting bullshit.
You were a good father once. You were a positive influence in my life at some times. But that has long past. The last 7 years of my life have been nothing but pain and suffering because of you. You brought this upon yourself, but you also brought this upon the people you should have cared about the most. You used to be a good man, but that has long past. I’m going to tell you how I feel, and you’re going to take it.
Do you know your own self-value? I don’t know mine. Why? Because you never instilled it in me that I HAD any value whatsoever. You were too wrapped up in your business and food to even give a fuck. I couldn’t have a 10 minute conversation with you without you picking up the phone for business. It was like your child, but I was not apparently. I’m sad that I even came out of your sorry excuse for testicles. A real man takes care of his children, and puts them first before anything, even if he doesn’t always agree with the things they say or do. You did not. You kicked me to the curb and put more focus on Charlotte. She has suffered as I have, but in a different way. It didn’t matter what I said or did, but you interrupted me when I was telling you something. You fell ASLEEP on me one time when I was talking to you. A true father listens, you did not.
Your constant impulsive decisions caused us to be in the place we are now; almost homeless, living off my mother’s parents, barely struggling to get by. I had a hard time even telling you I loved you at some points, but I realize now that it’s because I don’t. You used to be a good man, but now you will suffer the consequences of your actions.
Your mother is a bitch, and I don’t want to have anything to do with your family. You obviously are too scared to say what you have to say to her. You let her control you, and you never let your suffering go. You should have shed her, because she’s a stuck up cunt, but you didn’t. You turned those feelings in on yourself and let it eat you. You should have realized that you had value, that you were worth something. You did not.
I know how good of a person I can be. I’ve saved people from suicide, death, I even saved you. I wish I hadn’t sometimes. You would have made an excellent vegetable. I admit my mistakes, I tell people how I feel, and if I don’t agree, I respect their opinion instead of tell them that they’re wrong. You? You always told me I didn’t know what I was talking about, and you never let me figure things out on my own either. You always had to do everything for me instead of letting me live my life. Your promises of wealth, glory, and happiness were all lies, a visage of what YOU wanted. Instead, you brought pain and suffering to those who counted on you. You never did the right thing, and you never listened.
You’ve made me suffer, you’ve made Mom suffer, you’ve made Charlotte suffer. You lied to us, your own wife and children! Family is about respect and love, but you shouldn’t have even had me at all. You don’t deserve me. I can do good with my life instead of the evil you did with yours. You are suffering the consequences, and you deserve it.
I don’t love you. I think that you’re the biggest piece of shit that ever walked the planet. You let your ego and greed get in the way of what mattered most. You played us. You treated us like your pets instead of people. I am a man. I am a human, I am NOT a monster. YOU are the monster for doing what you did. I associate you with evil. You might not have killed anyone, but you killed me emotionally and mentally. You caused lasting psychological damage to me, and it will NEVER go away. You never let me speak, and have my own opinions. You would never admit that I was right about anything, even if I knew EXACTLY what I was talking about. You never knew jack shit about anything because all you cared about was Food and Business. You chose your partners and associates impulsively instead of weighing your options because you were so desperate. You thought you could fix things, but you only made them worse through your actions.
I hold so much anger to you. I think you’re a cocksucker, and you deserve your punishment. You avoided the truth, and now you’re paying for it with 7 years of your life. I hope you rot.
You are where you should be, gone, out of my life. I want you to stay there. I haven’t read any of your letters because I don’t want your excuses and bullshit. I know you’re just trying to reconnect with me, but I don’t want any part of it. I don’t want you in my life, I don’t want you in Mom’s life, and I don’t want you in Charlotte’s. You don’t deserve us. All we ever did was love you, and you treated us like your servants you fat fuck. You gained more weight, and you never gave a shit about your health, which is paramount. You made Mom suffer having to have sex with some fat, lazy slob. She doesn’t love you anymore. I know she doesn’t. I don’t love you at all.
So old man, this is my vengeance, my words. Not a sword or a fist, though I would punch you so hard your neck would snap if I had the chance. You’re not worth my time, and you’re not worth the effort. You made your choice. You chose yourself. I didn’t have a choice, but now I do, and I’m telling you that you will no longer put up with you. I will not be manipulated by a sociopath, nor will I accept that you are my father. You are just another stranger, waiting to die.
I don’t want you near me, I don’t want you to meet my future girlfriend and/or wife, I don’t want you to see your future grandchildren. As far as I’m concerned, you never existed. I’m choosing my life over suffering for the actions of yours. When I get famous, I’m telling people in interviews that you are not in my life, and that you deserve your punishment: not having a relationship with your own flesh and blood. I’m not choosing my ego, I’m choosing my life.
Don’t call me, don’t email me, don’t write me, don’t text me, don’t Facebook me, and stay away. If I see you, or hear from you again, I will get a restraining order against you. I used to be your son, but now, I’m not, and I refuse to be.
My brutality and anger towards you is endless, but I don’t have to put up with you anymore. I’m shedding you like a snake sheds its skin. You don’t deserve me.
Fuck you. I hope this makes you suffer.
What makes a man? It’s the choices he makes to better himself and others. The choice to accept his life, and move forward, no matter how painful the truth may be.
Thank you all for reading this, and I hope that your new year is brighter than anyone could hope for.
This means War!
So my twitter account is becoming a very part of me, and it’s time to go to war… but not with someone else. No, it’s time to go to war with myself.
For the last year and a half, all I’ve done is wallow in pity of myself, trying to make sense of all the pain I’ve been through. I used to think I could handle it, but now that things are changing, I just want to let it all go.
But It’s so fucking hard.
I didn’t cause any of the damage dealt to me. I was forced into this situation by a man I call my father. It sucks more than a $20 hooker.
I act much older than I am. I don’t know why, but I don’t consider myself a kid by any means. People really don’t take me seriously. I really don’t think they should either. I’m crass, bold, think I know everything, but what am I worth? I haven’t proven anything to anyone other than myself.
I used to work as a game tester. I was 1 of 1500 that applied and 10 that got hired. I worked my ass off on that job, and my name is in the credits of TWO videogames. That’s nothing to be honest. Before that? I was an intern on a show called Kitchen Confidential. I was the youngest intern ever at 17. I felt good, but I made a fool of myself. I met a lot of cool people, and I got my first real taste of the industry. I know that my fortune lies in Entertainment, I just don’t know where yet.
I can act, sing, dance, write, but I still need to figure out which talent I should focus on. That’s the hard part. I want to do it all and more. I’m ambitious. I want to be a Creative Businessman.
So what’s next for me heading into the end of the year? Well, I have a few resolutions:
To live in the moment as much as possible. To let go of my fears, to find my path, to love, to lose, to win, to have moments of joy, and moments of pain. To handle myself with grace and understanding that is necessary. To not put so much pressure on myself. To accept who I am with all my might. To make new friends, or gain potential new enemies. To hold, to lust, to eat, to drink…
I really just hope I have a great 2011.
And so, life goes on, and we follow.