This is a nonfiction essay I wrote for my creative writing class and it must have been somewhat good if I got an on it. I think that you guys may like it. Feel free to leave comments, concerns, questions etc. Remember this is my opinion and some may agree and some may not.
I
remember my first word. It was “French fry”. (That was two words)
I remember when my speech impediment was at its worse and I pronounced
everything with T’s.
I
remember wishing every night that my toys would come alive and speak to me like
in toy story.
I remember playing double-dutch till my legs would fall off
and learning to skate until I did not fall any more.
I
remember swinging on a swing and going higher and higher until I just fell out.
I landed in the woodchips and got a splinter.
I got really pissed and cried.
I remember my first kiss, he pissed me off.
I
remember my second kiss; he kind of pissed me off.
I remember my third kiss and it was like Christmas day, but
not really.
I
remember the first time I drank. It was after my senior prom. My prom date was
a vegetarian and he had only eaten blueberries that day. Who does that?
Anyways, he decided he was going to drink for his first time also and it did
not work out that well for him. He threw up blue barriers all night. I gave him
a blanket and continued to drink.
I remember being the class clown as a kid. I would act out
to get the attention until I realized I chose the path that I must lead.
I
remember being close to my little brother and pretending to be team rocket
while doing the team rocket handshake.
I remember growing distant from my brother, yet we were
still close. He gave me more respect than he ever gave our mother and he still
does till this day.
I
remember when my dad, or may I say my sperm donor never visited me. I remember
seeing him at funerals and random places by mistake.
I remember how I felt when my brother’s dad would pick him
up and give him birthday and Christmas gifts.
I remember
crying out of jealousy when he left, and wishing my father cared about me.
I remember when my mom considered my brother her baby (she
still does). Technically, he is her baby.
I
remember when my brother and I would fight and she would always choose his
side.
I remember hating my brother because of my mother.
I
remember how my mother never understood me and how we would argue constantly.
We would argue about nothing, something and everything.
I remember how I thought, and still think that my mom is
bipolar.
I
remember my mom screaming out of anger “I wish you were never born” and me
screaming back “I wish you were dead”.
I remember running away, not only once, but three times.
I
remember being close to my grandma (I still am, but it is different now). Is it
weird to say that she was my best friend? She’s not dead or anything, but shit
happens.
I remember how my grandmother was always on my side of any
argument, especially the ones with my mother. She would be on my side to the
end, even when I was wrong. This caused many arguments between my mother and
grandmother.
I
remember how my grandmother was an alcoholic and my mom would always badger me
to get information on if she was drinking that day and if so what she drank. I
never told on my grandma, but my mom always knew I was lying and that would
cause many arguments.
I remember when my grandpa would call me “boo boo”. He loved
me and I love him back. If I needed
anything, he would go to the end of the world to get it for me.
I
remember the day he went to the doctors and they told him that if he would
continue to smoke he would die.
I remember getting my grandpa to stop smoking and for a
while, and he did. At least I thought he
did.
I
remember seeing my grandpa smoking in his room and how I felt when I cried. He
then cried with me and told me that he was sorry.
I remember my grandpa coming home one day and he did not
know that I was home. I went to go hide in his closet and scare him. I was not
a sick kid, but this is how my grandpa and I played around. I remember peeking
out of the cracks of the door waiting for the perfect time to jump out. What I
saw when I looked was my grandpa removing three full packs of cigarettes out of
his pocket and placing them on his bed stool.
I
remember playing with him out of frustration. He left the room and went to the
bathroom and in the time that he was gone I took his cigarettes and went back
into the closet. I remember when he returned and how it was actually funny how
confused he was to where he had placed his cigarettes.
I remember popping out of the closet with his cigarettes in
hand and how speechless he was. He saw me crying and tried to tell me he bought
them for a friend. I knew he was lying and he knew that I knew. He then says to
me “I did not know that anyone cared about me so much”.
I
remember how shocked I was at what he just said.
I remember telling him of course I care about him and his
well-being and “you are my grandpa. What is there not to love?”
I
remember after our conversation we went to the bathroom and flushed each pack
of cigarettes down the toilet one by one. I know he still smokes, but I have
grown up and learned that he was not trying to hurt me and that it was a strong
addiction that he could not ignore.
I remember high school and how it was the greatest time of
my life. Without it I would not be the person that I am today.
I
remember auditioning for my school. It was a performing arts school, where I
auditioned for the theatre department. I was still very shy then, but I was
acting as though I was someone else and that person was not me. I got on stage
and I became that person and sooner or later I was a part of Charter~Tech High
School for the Performing Arts.
I remember how high school gave me a different way of
viewing life; it opened my mind to something new and unusual. I could express myself through someone else,
not worrying about judgment.
I
remember when I started to express myself through myself because I no longer
cared about what others thought.
I remember gaining more friends and how people started to
portray me as being part of the “cool” crew when I was once a part of the “not
so cool” crew.
I
remember be an individual, and not a follower.
I remember being me.
I
remember being me.
I
remember being me….(my life to be continued)….
Copywrite December 2012