Absolutely everything that was on my mind at 5:04 AM.

(Written Tuesday, July 8, 2008 at 5:47am)

It's late in the night, morning. As I feel the stress that is evident in my back by the raised bumps of testosterone, the screaming punk rocker in my ears cries about living a lie. I've come to realize that only recently have I stopped doing so, and truly started living. No longer am I stuck, burning in water. No, I find myself afloat in the mostmagnificent ocean of bliss in recent memory. These feelings aren't transitory, they aren't fictitious and I truly believe they are of a supernatural quality. The coincidences and events that have been instilled upon my existence lately are either some grand cosmic joke or merely as I put it, coincidence. I'm not one to question the decisions that are made or the paths that I find myself put upon, but I find myself curious. I find myself with just one question, and I know it won't be answered by who you're thinking of, as the universe does not speak to me in plain English. The question I find myself asking is thus;

What the hell took so long?

I'm looking over the last paragraph that I wrote and I'm seriously wondering what drugs I was on, or what I was trying to come across as. Was I trying to be deep and intellectual, or was it just so I would be able to put my thoughts to text? I feel like a fucking tool when I read back this post, and I'm sure there are a few of you who feel the same way. If you don't, please respond and tell me why not. Should I continue writing this type of stuff? I'm not going to write those typical posts which are only about mudslinging, as it's almost never worth it. Throwing my innermost thoughts on theInternet in an attempt to do, what? Feel better about myself? Garner attention from people who don't give a shit about me, because if they did, they would respond to more than just my notes?

I digress, the point of this post was, I believe, just to write. I haven't written in a long time, since before I graduated from High School. I still can't believe that I actually did that. It seems like just yesterday that I was filling out F.I.G.T.E.S.P.I.N.S., and being sent to the office for misbehaving. I still clearly remember the time where I made my fourth grade teacher cry for no reason at all, just because I was a fucking brat who thrived on causing misery. Looking back, I can say with a firm state of mind that I was a fucking maniac. I caused a mutiny in my kindergarten class, caused dozens of people to cry over the course of 13 years of schooling, talked back to dozens of teachers/administrators/counselors/aides/lunch ladies/faculty. I've gotten into at least five physical altercations, given countless purple-nurples, tripped hundreds of people, insulted the way people smelled, dressed, acted, talked, spelled, danced, walked, ran. I've put a thumbtack on a teacher's stool and had him sit upon it, I've skipped assignments and classes for no reason at all, and I had the time of my life.

Senior Year was an amazing time for me, and I'm seriously regretting that I didn't participate in more activities while I was in High School. Writing for the school newspaper, The Fling. Participating in One-Acts or Drama classes, and preforming on stage. These are the things that I wish I had paid more attention to while I was still in school, and it's a shame that I didn't take advantage of the opportunities I had.

Seeing my name in the paper was one of the coolest feelings, and the fact that I wrote perhaps three articles in the 8 months that I was writing for the paper is pathetic. Whether it was a lack of motivation or just sheer laziness, it was unfortunate for myself and everyone else that I was not more involved with the Fling. The few articles that actually made it into the newspaper weren't even that good in my opinion. They were hackwork that I shit out the night before a deadline, and I think it shows. Perhaps I'm just jaded, (and I do mean to gloat here, I think I found the actual point of this article. It's talking about myself. I guessing I'm writing an article now, as that is what I've referred to it as. An article for what? The comic book review website that I have neglected for months? The school newspaper that I can no longer write for? This isn't even the point, I'm still in the parenthesis. I should probably stop soon, or I will have an entire paragraph in between two sentences.) but people have told me that my work is amazing. Thanks for the praise, but I don't really see it.


When I participated in the Senior Auction and Mr. Highland Park, I never felt more comfortable. Being on stage, being in front of hundreds dozens of people, and just being myself (in the case of Mr. Highland Park, I was myself as well as several other people.) was almost an intoxicating experience. The only feelings of nervousness that I felt were before and after the performances. The butterflies and twitching all but disappeared when I went up on stage. For a person who hasn't always been proud of his body, for that person to go up on stage and tear off his clothing, that is truly something. Being able to go up and do my thing at Mr. Highland Park, being able to actually BE MYSELF, and still get applause and admiration was absolutely incredible. Even though I didn't win, ( I refuse to say that I lost. I lost nothing. I gained plenty of things that night.) I came away from that experience feeling like a brand new person. If I had known how comfortable I was on stage when I was just entering High School, perhaps things would have been seriously different. Seeing the performances of 'Crazy For You' made me seriously regret my decisions of not joining Drama in High School.


It's not important now, though. The past is past and the future is now, and the future is looking fucking sweet. I've got a girlfriend who I am crazy about, I'm attending college in the fall, I am on summer vacation and there are almost endless possibilities in front of me. Despite what I said earlier, about regretting my decisions in the past, it's not a big deal at all. I kicked Highland Park High School in its ass, and I'm a better person for coming out of that place. I just need to keep my head up, keep writing, and keep living.

When I started writing this piece, I had no idea it would turn into a giant introspective analysis of my recent life. I never even touched upon the events that I mentioned in the first paragraph. I guess that's a good thing, the fact that my writing can get away from me so quickly. I feel a lot better after having written this, despite the pain in my back (that still remains from the first paragraph.) and the sleep that I will be sorely missing in the morrow.