All about me

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
It's about me and how I've grown up. I just put it out as it was one of my assignments a while back so I figured it would be good to just see what you think about it.

Submitted: February 23, 2014

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Submitted: February 23, 2014

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All About me

I can feel the gun to my head. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. I can feel the anxiety, the fear, and the pain that I always carry with me; the never ending grey area of pointlessness. I can hear the bullet clicking in place as I pull the trigger and I hear the sound of the guns blowback and then everything disappears. No pain, no nothing. That’s usually when I wake up crying, still not sure if I’m crying because I’m sad that I dreamt about dying or the fact that I wish it was true.

For me, life has never been a constant stream. It’s never just been easy. Even as a child I never felt comfortable in my own skin. As long as I can remember, I’ve always felt that something was wrong with me, my body, my name, my family, my life. I’m number five out of ten siblings. I’m the child who just blended in amongst the other children, well at least for my parents. When I was six years old, I looked at my mother as she was dancing in the living room, my siblings joining her as I just watched. I knew at that point that I was going to be a writer. I’m always the one on the outside, looking in.

When I was seven years old, my parents separated. I guess, looking back at that time now, it’s where it all started. I think it was the best choice they could have made, but all their other choices were sort of wrong. My mother got in to drugs and forgot all about us, about me, and at one point she went to jail and then to prison for attempted murder. I was in sixth grade when she was in prison. I never thought it’d have such a big impact on me as it has. I stopped caring about people and I stopped talking most of the time. I turned into a spectator of my own life. In seventh grade I only spoke when asked a question in class. I didn’t connect to people as easily as I used to. That’s when I started writing. I never wrote about my own feelings unless I was angry with my stepmother or my real mother. I wrote stories and about other worlds and new things that interested me.

I did get friends, but even then I always felt wrong, like I was the odd one out, still on the outside looking in. I’ve never stayed in one place for too long. I’ve been to nine schools. Starting ninth grade, I moved to Stockholm. I struggled a lot during that time, always fighting with my stepmother. I also had a lot of trouble adapting to my environment, knowing that I had a crush on a girl in my class and I didn’t want it to be true, so I told myself that it was just a girl crush, like when you think someone is cool and you want to be like them; well it was a lie. I had a real crush and I could barely even speak when she was near me.

When I moved back to my mother and I started high school things eased down a lot for me. I accepted the fact that I'm myself and whoever that is shouldn’t matter, but I still suppressed most of my feelings and thoughts. I got a lot of friends, but still I didn’t feel right. In eleventh grade I tried to kill myself. I stood on a rail road waiting for the train. My sister saved me. After that I started talking more about all that I’ve been through in my life and actually started taking care of myself and just being myself. That is who I'm today. I’m myself; it doesn’t matter if I’m a boy or a girl. It doesn’t matter if I like boys or girls. I’m just me and that is what matters. I’m here because of me, I live because of me and I’m going to do everything I can to be the better part of me.


© Copyright 2019 Jamie L Monster. All rights reserved.

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