I, Death

Sunday August 19, 2012 - 7:44 PM

I think I’m starting to understand just what the hell is wrong with me.

Not in the grander sense. It’ll likely take me my entire life to figure out why I’m surrounded by so much death, so much tragedy. Fuck, it feels like I’m at the centre of some sort of Shakespearean play.

What I mean is why I can’t get my head out of this funk that I’m in.

It comes back to that damned guidance counselor.

Who would have thought that the overweight bastard with the coke bottle glasses and the obviously fake head of hair, sitting there at his desk and looking at me, his hands folded across the outcrop of his stomach, a smug look on his face, would have been so bang-on.

In order to clear my head of the endless images, the thoughts that are plaguing me, I need to either talk to someone or write it all down.

Well, since I don’t have anyone to talk to — it’s not like I can talk to Aunt Shelley or Uncle Bob any more — I need to write about it.

No, in fact, I’m blaming this funk I’ve been in these past two months on them.

If I hadn’t have been grounded, and cut off from this therapeutic activity that had been working well for me, I might not feel this way.

So I’ve got to try hard to focus, to go through the details of what happened that night to Jagdesh. Then maybe, just maybe, I can start to move on.

– 1 Comment –

Kim said...

Don’t blame them... they were only doing what they thought was best. Parents and guardians are like that. It sucks, but that's part of being a kid.

At least it's over and you can work through some stuff now.

Question is, if you were grounded from the computer and such, why didn't you write it out long hand — at least until you got your privileges back?