I remember it like it was yesterday; it all happened so quickly it is hard to explain, but I will try my best to tell you how my life went from a dream to a disaster.
When I was young I grew up in a large town called Los Angeles. For the first five years I got everything I wanted from dirt bikes to tree houses. Everything was great even when I started school. In kindergarten I immediately became the coolest kid in the grade. I was the “Cool” kid. It was great! This was the same throughout elementary school. I thought that nothing could stop me, but I was wrong. It was Monday November 3. I came home from school, burst open the door, and then I saw my mom. She looked the same way as when her grandma had died. Then she broke the silence and said “your father lost his job and we have to move to Montana so he can get a similar job.”
That night all I could do was cry. In two months we moved. I disliked my house, my city, and everyone there. In the next two years I managed to make one friend. I thought this was the worst thing that would ever happen to me; I was wrong. After giving up in life I started to do drugs hoping this would get me friends. I started to make a few druggie friends. They weren’t friends just people I knew. I did more and more drugs then one night I had an overdose. This messed me up in the head, and I began to get out of control I couldn’t even control myself. I would freak at home, at school, and at my afternoon job. One day my mom decided the best thing to do was call the cops and send me to a insane asylum. So that happened. At first I made fun of the other people that were stuck in this wacko place, but then I began to realize that I had the same problems they did. I was imprisoned to this place. My mom had given me and all my rights to this evil place.
When I was about 30 I had lost hope in everything. Then she walked into the asylum.
When I was young I grew up in a large town called Los Angeles. For the first five years I got everything I wanted from dirt bikes to tree houses. Everything was great even when I started school. In kindergarten I immediately became the coolest kid in the grade. I was the “Cool” kid. It was great! This was the same throughout elementary school. I thought that nothing could stop me, but I was wrong. It was Monday November 3. I came home from school, burst open the door, and then I saw my mom. She looked the same way as when her grandma had died. Then she broke the silence and said “your father lost his job and we have to move to Montana so he can get a similar job.”
That night all I could do was cry. In two months we moved. I disliked my house, my city, and everyone there. In the next two years I managed to make one friend. I thought this was the worst thing that would ever happen to me; I was wrong. After giving up in life I started to do drugs hoping this would get me friends. I started to make a few druggie friends. They weren’t friends just people I knew. I did more and more drugs then one night I had an overdose. This messed me up in the head, and I began to get out of control I couldn’t even control myself. I would freak at home, at school, and at my afternoon job. One day my mom decided the best thing to do was call the cops and send me to a insane asylum. So that happened. At first I made fun of the other people that were stuck in this wacko place, but then I began to realize that I had the same problems they did. I was imprisoned to this place. My mom had given me and all my rights to this evil place.
When I was about 30 I had lost hope in everything. Then she walked into the asylum.
This was the first time I had seen something worth living for in 23 years. She had long blond hair flowing down to her waist line. She looked about my age; she was beautiful. I couldn’t wait to meet her, so two days after she entered this not so gloomy place I introduced myself to her. To my surprise she looked at me like I was speaking another language. Then I saw her begin to move her hands around very quickly. I again asked her name but she still did not seem to understand me. Then it struck me she was deaf.
I found a person that could translate. I found that her name was Betty and she was from San Diego, which is near Los Angeles. As you know that is near where I used to live when I was a kid. We hung out for about a year and she taught me a lot of sign language. We really clicked. I decide to ask her to marry me. I proposed and she said yes, in sign language of course. We lived happily for 8 years then once again disaster stuck. Betty began to get sick. She had a heart attack and sadly passed away. I did not handle this well, so I went into deep depression. For one year I did nothing but sit in my room and think about Betty. Eventually, I came down with a bad cold and my body could not fight it. I too passed away. A few months after I died they cremated my body. Then they put my ashes in a rusting tin can, and now I sit in The Library of Dust on a shelf with 5,000 unfortunate others. All I have left is the number 2,859 on a piece of duct tape on my lid. I have one way to express myself and that is my moody colored tin can. THE END
By CODY the Man
I found a person that could translate. I found that her name was Betty and she was from San Diego, which is near Los Angeles. As you know that is near where I used to live when I was a kid. We hung out for about a year and she taught me a lot of sign language. We really clicked. I decide to ask her to marry me. I proposed and she said yes, in sign language of course. We lived happily for 8 years then once again disaster stuck. Betty began to get sick. She had a heart attack and sadly passed away. I did not handle this well, so I went into deep depression. For one year I did nothing but sit in my room and think about Betty. Eventually, I came down with a bad cold and my body could not fight it. I too passed away. A few months after I died they cremated my body. Then they put my ashes in a rusting tin can, and now I sit in The Library of Dust on a shelf with 5,000 unfortunate others. All I have left is the number 2,859 on a piece of duct tape on my lid. I have one way to express myself and that is my moody colored tin can. THE END
By CODY the Man
1 comment:
ya i know i am
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