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May 2015
I'm writing this now as I don't think I can continue much longer.
All the things that made me happy growing up are becoming pinpoint memories, stabbing at the feeling my life has become meaningless.

I remember my sixth, or seventh birthday.
When all my six or seven year old friends came over to play at one of the only non-million dollar houses Kirkland Washington had left.
I had a Thomas the Engine Tanker cake and we took the Oreo wheels and threw them around and over trees.
My next door neighbor was my best friend and we would always have something fun to do.

I remember accidently stepping on my grandfather's new shoes and leaving a smudge on his new shoes.
So he thought it was fair to pick me up by foot and spank me while I dangle from his grip.
He's dead now, and I could care less as I was never allowed alone around him after that.

I remember the first time I decided school wasn't worth it.
I was given a choice to join honors in fifth grade but turned it down as i was told the extra homework would interfere with my precious video games.
I don't even remember what games I played back then.
Roller Coaster Tycoon and Age of Empires Two I suppose.

At that time I wasn't thinking about my future or what I should grow up and become.

I miss high school and I wish I could live it on repeat.
Back when I was wild, free and possibly ADHD, I still don't know if that is a real thing.
I remember band class, everyone would always expect me to harass the teacher or make an idiot of myself for a joke.
And I didn't care if I looked like an idiot.
I obviously didn't care if I was the idiot as my grades were always poor but never shackled me down in stress.
Only my parents did that.

I remember Giles Stanton, my Senior English teacher, who looked at me with mild boredom and said, "The real world will eat you alive."
That still haunts me to do this day as I always thought he was the coolest teacher there.
But it was just a joke, I shouldn't get butthurt.

At that time I wasn't thinking about my future or what I should grow up and become.

I remember going to community college and it all changed.
My careless, free spirited attitude was no longer praised or loved but rather chastised and questioned.
For I was at college and it was time to act like an adult.
But I still loved it, studying music theory and playing music.
Excited as I was about to start working on my first album.
The dreams of being a rockstar, or maybe just a folkstar were in my brain and I couldn't give them up.
All I cared about was music and video games.
All other general education classes couldn't hold my attention, even after the third time I took them I couldn't pass.

After two years and my first two attempts on my life I went to go see a therapist.
It was the usual for most people my age, some form of ADD and depression.
I was going to do it with a pen, push it deep into my throat and drag it across my neck.
A pen was all I could find.

At that time I wasn't thinking about my future, only that I wanted to make music and nothing else.

After sometime I went back to college and everything was different.
My brain was slightly comatose on Zoloft and some sort of ADHD med.
I could concentrate, but the harder I did, the more it came into being that I was no longer me anymore.
Some bag of bones carrying around a dying child inside.
I was tamed.
My only release was music, which I guess had gotten better now that my mind could focus even more.

I still never got my two year degree.
Only student loans.
With all those meds I still couldn't finish school.

I wasn't thinking about my future, only that I wanted to be a musician and thought I had a real chance.

And now I live with roommates in Seattle.
Breaking my back lifting boxes at UPS while trying to figure out my second job.
Probably only to need a third job.
All I do while I work is day dream about when I was younger and still had a chance to attack life and own it.
Now I merely walk through it with an open wound that I'm scrambling to sew shut.

I'm thinking about my future now, and I honestly can't say that I'll have one for much longer.
Spencer Carlson
Written by
Spencer Carlson  Seattle
(Seattle)   
652
   Kelly Hogan
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