I changed my brother's name. I also changed who I was hanging out with at night - I think. I couldn't remember hour to hour what people's names were, so it's a possibility that Allen and Andrea were accurate. Other than that, I didn't change anything. For the sake of word count, I started after we were in our third house in Maine, the sixth in total. I was probably about... I dunno, eight? But in my head I was sixteen, as were my nighttime friends.
so let me see where to start maybe at the end so that you can fully comprehend what the story is about. i’m sinking no not in water but in my thoughts sitting in the light shade of the dark asking myself how could this be if i had what i have now as a kid my life could have been a better one but yet now it all seems so useless and irrelevant no matter how much i made it was never enough to fully fill that hole in my heart well to fully comprehend let me start off with a story of a 13 year old boy, he was more than meets the eye polite, happy and stress free but deep but he held a dark secret so intense it was slowly consuming him little did he know he was slowly being changed into either something fiendish or good i mean he was only 13 years old life had lots to offer him yet miracously it chose not to he always felt the need for closure and answers yet he never got them. i was that 13 year old and it all stated as most of the sad stories you know i asked myself the very same question i was told not to ask ‘why me, why now’ i sat at home with one of my cousins watching tv goofing around mom screamed outside we rushed out to see what was wrong and as we got out of the door she was dancing and i know this might not scare you but to us it did she was dancing in a unusual way, talking gilbirish and right at that moment i knew what was wrong i rushed to my grand moms room grabbed her and started crying”why,why,why me, why now ” i stated asking myself my cousin came into the room and kept he too knew what was wrong her mom was in the same condition my mom was i started feeling like it was his fault maybe if he wasn’t here all of this wouldn’t have happened.…
This is not my own writing, nor is this an attempt at plagiarism, but it is a true story in autobiographical format written by my dear friend, Patrick Kingston. I am sharing this in hopes that Ellen DeGeneres or other kind people will be able to help him get the medical equipment and/or treatment he needs in the form of fundraising or possibly if there are clinical trials out there for making advancements in curing paralysis. His story just needs to be seen by the right people. We are roughly $3,000 short of his goal.
When I slammed into the truck behind me it knocked me silly and I couldn't move for a second. I helplessly watched and listened as the mob of angry protesters surrounded my vehicle. Some of the protesters began climbing up on top of my car and some of them began shaking it violently. I was absolutely terrified! I reached over and attempted to lock the doors but I was too slow and one of the protesters ripped my door open.