Responsibility - You don't have it.

People piss me off. Seriously they really do. Sometimes I get so angry looking how people deal with their everyday problems, or trivial things in general and it ticks me right off. When I was a budding male, I was given a job at 13. I worked my ass off and hauled in the cash just so I could support my parents. I've gotten jobs for friends that don't even talk to me anymore. I've done favors for people just so I could have a clear conscience. And all of their responsibilities, have fallen on my shoulders. I'm no martyr, or saint. I'm nothing special in terms of legendary people ( yet). All I know is that I've done a fair share of work in my life and I'm only 23. I know many of you have worked their asses off and gotten to where they are now because of so, but there are people who abuse people like me to get everything. I've always been the guy to pay for things going out. Whether it be friends or a ball smoker girlfriend. That's just how I am and I don't think I'll change simply because it makes me happy. I don't give two shits about the value of money. I understand that I need it and I make it to spend on things I need or want. Other than that, whatever people may think, I could care less about it. I save my money and spent it however I please. Whenever I get the chance to support my family I will. I'm 23, still living with my parents and sister and I still help them whenever the chance. I've dated women who tried pulling me away from that because they want me to focus on my future. Bitch, I know my future, and don't tell me otherwise. I know what I want in life and to obtain it, I will have to suffer. That doesn't mean I'm going all selfish and cold. I put my family and friends close to me and their responsibilities are my own. Why else would I be called a friend?



Alright. That was hefty simply because it's something I've wanted to express and will go into depth later on but I must continue this story. My story. At this point, I found my love in literature and writing. I started expressing myself in ways never known to this hairy beast. I was never the top notch student in any of my regular classes aside from culinary, but I was never a doorknob. I knew my own limits. Sure I wasn't a mathematical genius or a physics champion, but I could tie a knot better than your sissy camp councilor. I could bang like a champ too. Aside from that, I started to explore my mind further, delving into the dark corners that is my life. I wrote everything down, wherever and whenever. The pen way my way of life now, as the sword became dull in my heart. I thought that if I could love something this much on a whim, it must mean something, right?

Ehhh, maybe. I mean, I didn't know where I wanted to go with writing. I love video games, so story writing for that would be ideal. I also had several movie ideas in my walnut, so that popped up too. Media was also something of interest, as I have the persona of a very animated person and the voice of a god. Also, Anchorman is the greatest movie ever. Alas, all these options were available to me and I was bombarded by my ex girlfriend with the choices. I chose media. Heck I met her in an English media course. Thought I had a knack for it. Wrong. I hated every second of it. My preliminary tests were aced and I was welcomed through the doors with the media world ready and willing. I, however, wanted to just write. I didn't really care about news casting, or writing in the daily college paper about how cool our sport hoodies are and that some random Asian guy can cook really good stir fry. Boring. I wanted fantasy, I wanted a separate world where my characters are living breathing organisms, hell-bent on destroying the world. I just wanted to stab my pen through a booklet and jot down every little detail that came to mind when I saw the perfect woman passing by.

It became a hobby. Just like cooking, I set it aside to hobby status. Both I couldn't stop doing, and both I have experienced. I started writing my own fantasy novel, which was pretty retarded as it neared the end. Trashed that idea. I began to write stories for different projects I was hoping on completing. Trashed that too. I was never satisfied with my work because it was all self taught. I wanted to become a literary artist, putting a pen to paper and creating the goddamn bible. Obviously, everything comes with practice and sweat and blood and hookers. I took my time, writing whatever I could and editing the shit out of it. After some time I realized I need to find myself, once and for all. I need to find a mindless job, with no future, so that I may be able to decide what I really want to do. At this time me and ex girlfriend of 3 years started somewhat distancing ourselves. She got a job in Quebec, and we were both okay with it all.

Then the signs came. She didn't call and when she did it was for several minutes. Maybe once or twice a week, would I hear from her. After several weeks, I became frustrated and somewhat suspicious, I mean, I'm not the most attractive man in the world and she was becoming hotter and hotter. I never set foot in the gym at this time and was slowly decaying on my couch, playing video games and looking for work whenever given the chance. Work was tough to come by and I was losing what little money I had. I sent her a message asking why she was so hesitant to call or text. After two days she sent me a snappy message saying that I always hassle her and that I should understand that she barely gets the chance to talk or use her phone. At this moment, all the times I have sacrificed everything to make her comfortable in my life, the times where I would call in the middle of a Saturday night service just to hear her voice, the times where I would defy my blood, my kin, so that she has a place in my home. I've done almost everything my physical and mental self could do, and the one thing I asked for, a simple hello and goodnight, was taken from me. This was her last message, without a word our relationship was over. Completely erasing me from her life, sending me photos and letters through mail, everything. Done, in one day. My life as I knew it, skyrocketed to the depths of hell and back. I didn't want to hear anything anymore, I wasn't sure of myself. I dug a hole and crawled in, becoming everything I wasn't. Depression hit, and it hit hard.

To be continued....