It’s dark in here. I have to wonder, how did I get here? Why am I here? What’s the outside like? It’s difficult to tell, but I can faintly hear some things from outside. I’m not sure what it is though. Maybe I’ll learn what all of these faint sounds that I can hear if I can get out of his dark place. I have absolutely no clue how I would even begin to try to get out. I guess, in essence, it really doesn’t really matter. I shouldn’t be ungrateful for this place. It might be dark, but it’s warm and cozy. It’s a safe place. I just wish it wasn’t so dark. But, like I said, I should be grateful for this place. I think I hear something again. I think my mother is in a place called Canada, because it’s cold too. It’s still dark in here.

On April 25th, 1998, I was born. In all escence, I really shouldn’t have been. The whole having kids thing didn’t work too well for my parents the first time. My brother died in infancy. But, regardless, there I was. Somehow, I managed to survive infancy. My brother probably would have been smarter than me growing up though. To put it as delicately as possible, if I could go back in time, I would smack my past self in the face, several times. I was a dumb kid. Like, a Really, Really dumb kid. How I wasn’t formally labeled as an official dunce is beyond me. I called horses ‘Sizos’ for some reason. I don’t know why. I could go deeper into my younger self’s stupidity, but, let’s be honest, we’d be here all day, so let’s move on. I lost a lot of teeth at that age as well. I also got held back in kindergarden, I apparently I wasn’t ready to move on. I had a tiny, less than pleasing face. I looked rather stupid. I had short hair and it was just plain Wrong. Me with short hair should not be in existence.

My childhood was rather conflicted. My parents had some differing views on things. This would often confuse me and I was never 100% sure who to listen to. Usually, my mother would back off when my father had something to say. She still does. For example, I got picked on a lot in elementary school. My father would tell me to punch whoever is teasing me in the face. My mother would then wait for him to leave the room and tell me to not immediately resort to violence. Not being the brightest kid was already hard enough, but having my own parents giving me conflicting advice certainly didn’t make things easier. It’s strange, looking back, I actually can’t remember too much else from my childhood years. The most I can get out of them is that I was a not a smart kid by any stretch of the imagination, I got picked on a lot, and that I’d never know which parent to listen to.

It’s strange, looking back, I actually can’t remember too much else from my childhood years. My brain just seems to block out most of my younger years. I suppose my younger days just weren’t that memorable. But I suppose if it weren’t for my childhood years, I wouldn’t be who I am today. So, as much as I hate to admit it, I’m obligated to thank my past self for ultimately being a (very) rough draft of me. If that makes any sort of sense at all.

By the time I reached 10th grade, I would ultimately be stuck with my current group of friends. By this time, I was able to keep some good friends that I still associate with today. The odd part is that I never really had to ‘introduce’ myself. We all were just in the same after school club and we all got to talking. It’s all weird, and we’re all weird, but I won’t complain. I love my friends. Around this time, I met two of my most treasured friends. Now I have a lot of very close friends that I hold in the same regard (maybe even a little higher) as my own family.

I don’t eat a lot. I really should, but I don’t. I not even really sure if there’s a reason. I just sort of don’t. Ever since I got my wisdom teeth out a couple years ago, I haven’t eaten as much. The dentist told me to be careful when eating, so I just didn’t. I suppose I just never got back in the habit of eating regularly again. I guess that’s why I’m such a skeleton.

Recently, I went to the doctor, I’ve lost over fifteen pounds since the last time I checked my weight. I should probably eat more. All of my friends tell me that I should eat more. They’re right. I know I should be taking better care of myself. But, more likely than not, I won’t. Maybe it’s because I’ve stopped caring? I suppose I don’t take care of myself like I should. But, like I said, I guess I just don’t care enough about myself anymore.
My last summer vacation was probably my worst. I got a job, which was good. But I was NOT very good at sed job. I think the only reason that the dollar store hired me in the first place was because I could work on the weekends. Part of me wishes that I said that I wasn’t. Then I wouldn’t have been hired and thus, wouldn’t have to worry about all of the stress. But, that would be the coward’s way out. Ultimately, I’ll benefit from the whole experience. At least I have a reference point now. And if I’m ever down on my luck, I could always go back there. As much as I hated it.

One of the most painful things I’ve ever had to deal with was gradually losing touch with one of my best friends. I had feelings for her. She knew this and let me down easy. Ultimately, I moved on from that. But I was still cracked, so to speak, from some crap from the previous year. She helped me get through it. If it weren’t for her, I probably would have jumped off of a building. But luckily, she urged me to get the help I needed. She would always be there to help me. Then she graduated. We’d texted every so often. Each passing week, our conversations would grow more and more distant and short. I can’t blame her though. She’s a busy person in a pretty good college. I’d feel guilty for taking up her study time. I understand her not being able to talk with me as much anymore. It’s just sad that I may never see or hear from her again. But I’m glad we had the time we did.

Looking back in the eighteen plus years I’ve been alive. I’ve had quite an odd existence. By no means was this life of mine fully conventional. But at the same time, it wasn’t John Waters levels of weird and outrageous either. At this point in my life, I’m not quite sure what to think of my life so far. I’ve only lived for eighteen years of it. I (probably) have at least a few more years of things in my life to experience. It’s hard to give a good recollection after only living for eighteen short years. It’s like giving a first grader a pen and a piece of paper and telling him to write down all of the memorable things in his life. More likely than not, it would be a short list.

It’s dark again. But I don’t think I’m in the womb this time. No. I think I actually might be dead. I’m not sure what killed me. Maybe it was natural? Perhaps I offed myself? Maybe I got sick? No. That’s unlikely, I never get sick. There’s a good chance that me and my friends did something stupid that got me killed. More likely than not, I starved to death. I probably should have eaten more when I was alive. I guess it really doesn’t matter in hindsight. Either way, I’m dead. I would say that I’m a stiff, but I do believe that I was cremated. Part of me is in a nifty urn. Other parts of me are being spread around by some guy named Rich. I think he’s in Japan now. I’ve always wanted to go there. He has to keep an ear out for when Ozzfest comes to town. I’m sure Mr. Osbourne won’t mind having a fan’s ashes lightly tossed at him. The rest of me is with my other two best friends. I hope they don’t mind having my ashes. Well, I guess it’s not All bad. At least I can haunt everyone now. That should at least be a bit fun. But being dead is a bit of a drag. Nobody talks to me without crying anymore. It’s actually kind of sad.