With My Head Against The Wall

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is my first pubished piece of writing, keep in mind that it took me like an afternoon to write it, and two occasions of editing. I rarely show my work to other people and my self esteem is very low, so hater to the left. I don't need it. Constructive criticism is however very welcome.
Hope You like it ^^

Submitted: August 08, 2009

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Submitted: August 08, 2009

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Johnny was sitting on the bathroom floor in his parents house, repeatedly banging his head against the wall, he had been doing this for almost fifteen minutes now. He wanted to bang out all the shame and embarrassment that he felt like a big lump inside him. He felt useless and stupid. He was trying to remember the joyful things in life, but as hard as he tried, his mind was blank on the mater.

His sight became hazy and as he closed his eyes the tears started streaming. He used his right hand to wipe his face.

In his hand there was a letter, he now felt the texture of it against his skin . He opened his eyes.

Johnny had, as long as he remembered, one goal in mind: Going to Harvard School, to later become a high shot layer living in some penthouse in Manhattan, but now he was starring at the very letter denying him his dream, and the only thing that gave his life meaning.

He stopped banging his head and read though the letter one more time, as to make sure that he didn‘t get it wrong the four other times he went though it,
but the message was still the same, He was not Harvard material.

He pressed the note in to a little boll and with a forceful motion he threw it hard at the opposing wall and slammed his hands at the cold ceramic floor. Suddenly he realized how uncomfortable it was, sitting were he was, so he got up. He had to hold on to the bathtub reeling not to fall, as the banging had made him dizzy, he made his way to the water tap and switched it on.

He disappeared in thoughts and didn’t snap out of it until he felt the water on his fingertips. He turned the cranes to stop the water flow and got in the tub, not even realizing that his clothes where still on.

He pressed his head below the surface, waiting to run out of oxygen.
He was starting to feel sick. He tried hard to stay below the surface. "Oh, never mind" he thought and in a quick sweep he was sitting up. He coughed up all the water out of his lungs, smiled and thought for himself “There’s always Stanford”


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