Prolific, that’s my word for today. Your word is awesome, wear it proud. Maybe I have written so much I’ve got lost in all my word soup.
I am going to be great, just watch me, dude, just watch me. I want you to be on that journey with me, partners in crime, Thelma and Louise style. I’m looking for that perfect page to write; every page is a hopeful anxiety ride.
I want to build a story with you, it’s as easy as creating life, first, you start with a skeleton, and then you add some meat to the bones and finally you at the shading, fine details. Look, we did it!
I know you’re just like me, life sucks, I’m not going to let go through it by yourself. If ever need me, I’ll be right here.
Would you like to know what made me this way? So would I, still no answers…
- Action and Reaction
Now this is the main reason people, lose it. I mean the struggle, as for me having no money + no food = A bad diet. Some say I morphed my attitude because of lack of the protein, fibre, gluten and so on. I mean this is a possibility, going almost a week without a full meal within my stomach, living off snack such a biscuits or a packet of noodles or even a sandwich, combine that way of eating when my body needed to grow, brings forth a scrawny-teenager. This is what my mother thinks, but I believe she doesn’t want me to believe that I am actually a mental-head; I think she doesn’t want me to be a damaged writer. But here’s my theory, I’m still having the blackouts, missing time, voices and the headaches along with seizures. The seizures haven’t only set up house, they have had little baby seizures running around up there and I have gotten used to the nightmares and the fear of not waking up.
The psychologist told me when I was seventeen that if it wasn’t a brain-tumour which he made believe I had for around a year; how mean can you be? He didn’t think it was anything to do with my eating habits, as I could eat and when I had food I did eat. So he believed because I was amid my teenage years, and this is the main time for schizophrenia to set in and cause havoc within innocence. So this is what the doctors thought, mental illness; just what the doctor ordered for my words. And I know now that some people within my ancestry have had to deal with mental illness. Hey, free meds!
- Changed my own mind
Maybe I just got tired of being beaten, being made a nothing by people who believed I was nothing; having no money, no food and all the friends who helped themselves to my money and food when I did have it because my frame of mind was that fractured at the time, manipulating me and convincing me that I did misplace my welfare money or tell me I didn’t even go food shopping, while they filled their pockets. Can you blame me that I broke? Can you blame me for getting revenge on them all? I have never seen them since. Can you blame me for holding onto this dream? Can you blame me for my darkness? The answer = Nope. I can’t stop it, so lay down your pens, because one day I know I will make it, because this illness is my fuel, it’s what drives every word I use, I can’t stop. And an evil-side of me knows I can twirl words better than ninety percent of you. I do have my exceptions out there.
So still got no clue on what’s up with me, but I know one thing that is up with me? I am a writer. What do you think?
Everything that has happened to me, is in past, my memory is histrionic at times. I have two jobs, a family, my readers and a dream now.
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