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Writing a book.

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posted on Feb, 26 2009 @ 05:57 AM
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Titled:

Not wanting to be here


Prologue

1:24AM Feburuary 22nd, 2009

"I am walking down the final road. In front of me there is a cross, one high above the other, and one seemingly leading me into the lowest cave of Earth. I can't turn back, the road behind me was already swept from the ground. I think to myself, it's destiny that I create my own destiny now, for every important event -- I have been gaven my last stepping stones to make it out of the world I was born into, and a final chance to take myself to the high road." -Cameron xxxx

If I complete writing this book, and if anyone ever ends up reading it... Then it means I took the high road. If not, I failed to succeed at listening to my own concious, higher concious, and I will struggle on my path reflecting at this prologue everyday. The reason why I write this, is not to express my life story -- I just simply wan't to let other people know, that when the lights are out and it's dark, and there isn't much left to live for, you must always realize that you can help yourself if you try, and you can help others to. My mother would have, and more than likely wants me to write this book and I would of never wrote it without her being in my life. This is a story about a young man's struggle, one that he takes with a grain of salt knowingly that there is someone with no family, and no love. None of us can save the world alone, but we can save it one person at a time.

I will also express that I am not completely sure what my religion is, I'd rightfully say I do not have one. I believe there is a universal balance, within which we we're all created for a specific reason -- to learn and rise above our delusions of power, wealth, drugs, sex and hatered. I think we can all agreed, any person of any creed, age or gender that humans are headed down a path that should of been corrected long ago, due to the nature of humans I am not sure that humans can do it alone, but I do believe that we have to power to change ourselves, and strive for the stars instead of scorching the skies.

I will try and write any of my stories as best as possible, to the most accurate description, and presumably in a third-person context when possible to give you a feeling of how it would be to be there, instead of what happened to me and how I felt.


Chapter 1(what i have so far, there will be atleast another 20 paragraphs)

Looking at a world in front of you you have no clue about, just knowing what entertains you and feeds your excitement. Not a clue how you got here, not a clue of how the food is put on your table. You just know you get what you're given, and you don't have much of a choice as to what is going to happen tommorow, you just know that you have to wake up and learn. What you're taught isn't always appealing, you don't always want to listen. From time to time, you find yourself rageing over not having your way, beating up on your mother and thinking that way everything you want you'll get.

You take a leap into a world, you have no idea how to cope, you're bipolar and your emotions roll like mountains. Thinking back now, you say to yourself why was I put here? You cant really conceptualize at this point, you just know your ABCs and your numbers. It's so complicated at such a young age to even grasp on what it is exactly you're "learning", or what it will be used for. You really could care less about anything else besides your mom and dad, you nana and grams. And second to that, if you don't get your way when you want to play Mario Bros. or Guerilla War, you figure you'll just make everyone elses lives a hell until they finally give in and say let him play the game, even though he's been playing it all day.

So there I am, about 4 years old. I remember it, just barely. I have a photographic memory, so I have a frame in my mind of what the scene was like, and everything I describe is exact, not a rehash. It's said that the mind isn't capable of containing memories before a certain age, and I believe 4 years old is too early, but not for me.

It's dark, very dark. The house is messy, ratty. Old paint on the walls, dirty carpet, torn up couch. I can't recollect if I remember this in a 3rd person visual, or from my eyes. I'm standing near the kitchen, it's a 2 bedroom house and to my left is the hallway and the bedrooms, directly in front of me is my father laying on the couch. I think my mother was in bed, a movie is playing, Alien. The next thing I remember is laying down on the couch. I don't remember watching the movie, but the least I can say is it had a impact on my mind.

I'm asleep with my mom in her bed, she's not working at the time. It's around 7AM. I'm running down a black corridor, with 2-3 aliens chasing me. There is flashing vibrant neon colors, specifically red, yellow and green. I'm running, and at the end there is a wall in the blackness. About the time they are about to get me I wake up in a sense, but I am in a mid-seizure. I can't move any further than propped up with my arms behind me gasping for air, as though I had just came back to life. I can still see the aliens, and the world around me is flashing in, finally I come back to reality and my mom is there as the savior.

Now, I can't tell you if it's because of my bipolar disorder, or if it's because of the enviroment I was raised it, but when I say dark I mean my concious being overwhelmed with darkness.

The darkness was my concious. I was consumed by this feeling of impending doom, almost as though I was in the place that you call hell. Everything around me I sense is full of tension, there is no peace, there is no freedom. I know that this isn't right, I know that the aliens I saw in that dream weren't real, yet I feel like I am an alien in a world I was forced into, born into bondage and strapped into a cocoon of the acclaimed magnificent reality that we poor so much thought into, inevitably leading to nothing more than questions. Suppose it's not the question's you need to be answering, it's the answers that you need to propose questions. That comes off as a infinite loop, an oxymoron, and that's the way it is. Propose to yourself you don't need to ask questions, propose to yourself you don't need answers, see within that we are here to learn and you cannot be taught by searching for answers to the paradox of why, yet you can be taught by smileing, asking yourself, "Why ask why?", and finding the answer.

After the dream, the birds are chirping, the sun is breaking through the shades into the room, giving the enviroment sort of a rustic light. I'm depressed and the world I see around me isn't what it needs to be, I expect there to be vibrant colors, happiness and joy -- I don't see to it that food is neccessary, pain is a foreign concept, anger is the only way I can express myself.... Not wanting to be here.



***

I know it's not great or anything, but I'm going to get each chapter done, go back and try and make it as captivating as I can. I also have a family member that will proof read, and add constructive criticism.




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