Reads: 176

"You will run out of time eventually " screams the voice in my head.  There is only so much time available.  Theres a perfect time somewhere.  Outb there beyond the barriers.  Where memories do not hurt.Grab hold of this time when you see it or hear it or feel it.  Grab hold of this time, youll know when its there.  If you let it go you may not get it back.  Only so much time before my brain goes to shit.  

I see the world falling from underneath my balance like the rotting bathroom floor in my old and decripted horrible rented home.  A home that i have made for my family.  One that i have to cower over inside because i fear that a day may come when something bad happens to one of us because i have neglected to let the landlord in on their shitbox decaying more than they know.  Then again, they do know.  Im pretty sure that they are pleased eneough to recieve the rent checks monthly without much of an arguement.

It is now or never.  The perfect ultimatum. I tend to let things go.

I can remember a time just distant eneough to bring me back to one of the first times when i let things go.  I was in the sixth, seventh, or eighth garde.  I will say seventh but uncertain.  At this time of my acedemic life I was ordered by my step mother to stay after school daily, so to give her time to finish her daily activities before i arrived home from the bus.  usualy this amounted to her utilizing more time to smoke weed and then cover it up with incense, air feshners, and the like. That never really worked though,  You could always still smell the underlying funk of the "skunK" surrounded by whichever additional fragrences. Not that this was always a bad thing either, i mean sometimes you may get that so-called contact high.  However this truly was not my thing.  At about thirteen years of age i was just not on that course,.. yet.  i would get to it eventually, but at this time my whole take on the practice was not so favorable.  Any of the stoner kids that I knew were usually dicks. The kind of kids that could dish out the humurous insults but at the instant they got them back there way these bullies would declare them as fighting words. Since my step mother was of this same faction i would see her the same way.  As a bully... who smoked weed.  so yeah, I was not so much into it.

There were not many afterschool activities that i was so in to.  The wrestling kids were usually the spawn of former sports types.  Beefed up kids so young and angry, if you ask me its a recipe for aggression.  There was the band or theatre kids.  If I had any brains I would have done this, but alas I had no real role model to push those kind of arts on me.  My father was a strong influence on any of my creative favor, though he stilled turned his nose at that sort of thing.  Along with the overall ignorance of my step mother and her family I wasnt made to feel this as a comfortable outlet.  The surrounding kids didnt really make me feel like i could fit in either.  Not that its any one person or groups fault

Submitted: December 27, 2021

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