The Unexplainable Thoughts of Garrett Collins

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A.N.- Hey guys(: So this is a new story for me, I've actually been working on it for a while *cough over a year* And I just got around to writing the first few pages... Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this and I hope you like Garrett as much as I do <3

CAUTION!: There is one F-Bomb in this chapter! You have been warned!

Thursday February 4, 2010

Mom gave me this ridiculous “journal” to write down my “feelings” and my “thoughts”. Pathetic. I can’t believe people actually write down what they are thinking or what they had done during the day in this thing. It’s just a bunch of lined paper like any other regular notebook. Apparently it helps you vent out your emotions. Go ahead. Have a hysterical breakdown while you’re writing in this thing. The pen won’t even be on the lines while you’re having your convulsions.

Friday February 5, 2010

Now Mother is watching me write, making sure I actually write something down on what she only paid $2.99 for. If I wanted to show my anger I would wear it on my face, if I want to be pathetic and a wimp, I’ll cry, but that’s not going to happen. The doctors told my mom about this grand idea. And by doctors I mean shrinks that had been given a certificate just by completing a single class. The only psychiatrist we can afford is one that lives in a trailer and eats pizza for every meal. Nope, I would rather prefer to have my mental health in someone’s hands that at least went through two classes, but with mom’s income, that’s never going to happen.

Saturday February 6, 2010

Ugh, snow. I hate snow, and I hate the fact that it will still be around for another month. The only thing good about snow is when it’s thick and hard and perfect for snowboarding. Then I can whip out my board and just lose myself. A couple years back I had gotten into an accident, they said I would never board again. Ha. Shows what doctors know right?

Sunday February 7, 2010

Mom is still going on about this stupid journal. I can’t believe she’s buying into this treatment option. Isn’t there an operation I can go under that’s less painful and humiliating then writing in this journal? What can be worse than this?

Monday February 8, 2010

Your mother can call up your teachers and tell them to let me write in it during school. That’s what’s worse.

Tuesday February 9, 2010

This is such a cruel and unusual punishment. Mom is making me write about my day, and if it’s not at least a lengthy paragraph, she flips out, saying I need to get whatever is pent up inside of me out. Well, what’s pent up inside me is the sexual frustration every normal teenage guy has and I don’t think anyone wants to read what goes on inside of my mind. I know my own thoughts why do I have to write them down?

Wednesday February 10, 2010

Are parents designed to detect every thought that could possibly get you in trouble, or in danger? Is it a radar they have that just goes beep every time you think a bad thought? Maybe it’s maternal instinct or maybe it’s God’s way of cracking the whip, working through adults instead of prophets.

Thursday February 11, 2010

School sucks. Every single teacher treats you like you only have their class all day. They load you down with homework and then you have no time after school to do the things you want to. I’m already there for eight hours, why do I have to bring it home with me?

Friday February 12, 2010

I’m attending a funeral on Sunday, and it’s my entire fault. It’s not like I killed him, but I feel like I did. Last night I went to my buddy John’s house and he had invited a few other guys over too. Well, turns out someone had the bright idea to pull out a revolver and play Russian Roulette. Some people were too chicken, but hell I thought I had nothing going for me so why not gamble a bit? So I grabbed it and ping…nothing. A couple guys joined in and when it was supposed to be my turn, John grabbed the revolver wanting to join in too. That was the shot, the one that killed him. It should have been me and now I have to attend his funeral. My own friends funeral, ha, funny how life works isn’t it?

Saturday February 13, 2010

Mother is angry at John’s mom for allowing them to play that “ridiculous game.” Apparently Mother is going to blame her for not being there because she was at work. Mother you were the one that left your family to go out to a bar. People need to stop being hypocrites.

Sunday February 14, 2010

I always pictured this day long after I had graduated, ok IF I graduated, and we came back after our like fiftieth class reunion and someone had a stroke or heart attack. I guess “God” can work in mysterious ways. John’s mother looks horrible, like she hasn’t slept since the accident. The funeral was solemn, muttering voices could be heard, some talked about John’s mother, some talked about the friends that were there, and others…talked about their week plans…

Monday February 15, 2010

Since something happened to me that is life changing, Mother says that I should describe myself, how I am at this stage, my physical and emotional self. From that I can “grow” and look back later on and see how I was. Well, I guess I’ll start with the basics:

Name: Garrett Collins

Age: 17

Height: 6’2”

Weight: 173 lbs.

Hair: Brown, messy, kind of short

Eyes: Shade below emerald

Likes: Staying at home not giving a fuck about what I do and of course Call of Duty on my 360

Dislikes: A parent breathing down my neck trying to glance at what I’m writing and getting mad when I cover it up, seriously, it’s my life? Stop trying to butt in all the time.

Emotion State: Honestly, a little freaked out. I saw someone die. I SAW someone shoot himself. If that’s not hard to get over, then please let me know if you have anything worse than seeing a friend die right before your eyes.

Ugh, Mother is now saying more stuff that I should write down, such as, “What can I do to help myself go through a time like this?” and “Should I really be hanging out with these kinds of people?” Well, Mother, I do think that I should be able to choose my own friends, so that answers that question. As for the “helping myself”, I suggest for me to just forget about it and move on as quickly as possible.

Wow…that sounded really corny for a teenage guy to write…it almost sounded journalish. I need to stop writing. Now.

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