Bay 12 Games Forum

"Tell ya [hic] what, Achilles.  If [hic] ya git [hic] caught, I'm a gonna talk [hic] ya outta there."
- Floon, failed ship's doctor and quite successful ship's drunk.

Well, I decided I've complained about my life enough, I may as well make a thread about it.  And since I don't really have anyone in real life that cares, I might as well talk about what's going on here.  I'm not really sure where this goes, I guess, but I don't mean for it to start any discussions.  It's more of a way to vent, I suppose.  And maybe y'all will have some handy advice for me.  But here goes, I suppose.
Eh.  This shit took a solid hour to write.  I didn't even think 'bout it, either.  I dunno where all that time goes when I write, but that's normal, considering.

Also, a warnin'.  When I write like this, I tend to write the way I talk.  Apostrophes fucking everywhere.

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I'm currently writing this at two in the morning.  I couldn't sleep.  Like most nights.
I get too busy thinking of my past, for one thing.  Another, my ADD runs rampant in the streets of my mind, hijacking thought trains and holding up memory banks.  It makes me wonder, ya know?

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not one of the unfortunates.  Not one of the people the world has royally fucked over, just for bein' born.  Naw, I screwed myself, all by myself.  Ain't nobody's fault but mine.

I mean, I wasn't born to a rich family, but we did well.  My dad was a controller, which pretty much meant he was the head accountant.  He got his master's degree a when I was in maybe third grade.  Next company he was CFO, or chief financial officer.  It was pretty much the same job though.  He really is the only reason the company he's with now is still standing on its feet.  He used to work in a bank, so he's got practical experience there.
My mom quit teaching after she had her first kid, but she didn't need to work.
We never wanted for any food, and we had two computers and two televisions.  We rented a DVR player when those came out.  My brother, sister, and I played with Legos a lot too.

Oh, but I haven't talked much about them.  I'm the youngest, and my brother is the oldest.  He's into pretty much anything drivable or flyable.  He had a flight sim hooked up in his room, and he ran it in real time.  Had all kinds of pedals and shit too.  I truly think he could've flown a plane when he was twelve, if he had to.  My sister, she's the middle child, but she ain't like most middle kids.  She's loud and proud, and if you didn't like her attitude you could get bent.  We found out she had some disability that inhibited her ability to control herself, but that wasn't 'til our second life. 
'Course, I call it our second life, but it don't feel like second anything.  We all look back on our old house in California, on the other coast, and we don't think of it as being part of our lives.  Kinda funny, really.  We always thought our old life was gonna be our only one, that we would never move.  But we did, and I'm pretty fucking glad about it.

And, of course, we have the star of the show: Me.
I was one of maybe ten other white kids, counting my siblings in that total, at my grade school.  But I didn't see any of 'em different for that.  Never really noticed it, and I still only do if I'm looking in my yearbook.  Now, none of 'em were any bright shining lights if ya get my drift.  No one really cared 'bout reading, 'cept me.  I fucking loved to read books.
Here's the catch though: I only loved them 'cause they weren't people!  Ain't that a laugh?  I fucking hated them!  All of 'em!  And without one damn reason, too!  I still don't fucking know why I loathed their guts, I just did!  An' it wasn't a skin thing, 'fore any of y'all suggest that.  'Cause I hated the scarce majorities I knew too!  I just couldn't stand fuckin' people.

I sat my fat ass on a barred bench and read.  I read the shit outta those books.  Fuckin' first Potter book in a week when I was in second fuckin' grade.  I read about fifty o' those Magic Tree House books in two months.  I know that 'cause our teacher assigned that many to us for the school year, and I did it in the first fucking month an' a half.  'Bout half the kids didn't even finish.

But I wasn't like ol' Scrooge, reading 'cause I wanted friends.  I said "to hell with friends!"  I read to get away from people, not to find more o' the fuckers!  I didn't get no satisfaction outta them, I got satisfaction outta being able to distance myself from people I knew!
'Cause believe you me, it wasn't no fault of their own.  They tried.  They actually fucking tried to be friend with me!  There would always be someone trying to strike up conversation, or get me to play.  I just ignored them.  Eventually, I got to be part of the scenery.  I swear, they probably found that fucking seat by looking for my fat ass, then looking down a few feet.

So when people talk about how their past sucked, I got nothing to contribute.  I fucked myself over royally.  Guess that's a reason why I made this thread, 'cause there ain't no place for it.  I never met anyone who'd done the same.  I've met people who've been fucked over, but it's always been nature, or luck, or God doin' the fucking.  Never themselves.

Guess it's kinda cheesy, but it's been this wonderful state of Virginia that's warmed me up.  Well, the people, anyhow.  But that's a topic for later, if y'all wanna hear it.

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Anyway, I s'pose that's the basics.  I don't really know if this is the place for it, and I don't know if any of y'all wanna hear any more.  You may not even have wanted to hear what I've had to say so far.  I don't blame you, if that's your attitude.  I know I sure don't like it.

But it gets better, trust me.  It don't have a happy ending, with rainbows and unicorns an' shit, but it gets happier.
If, uh, y'all wanna hear more, I'll put some more of my sorry-ass life up here.  I only told y'all the basics, there's a few more layers to the story I just read off.  There was more to me than just pure-fucking-hatred for my fellow man, but not much else in my noggin.

Tell you what.  If anyone wants me to go on, or elaborate, I will.  Otherwise, I'll just move onward in time.
An' I hope I didn't bore ya.

109. Redundancy is GREAT!

I'm confused.

Order of the Stick.  Goodness.  Like... I dunno, but it's some good shit.

Dog ate my sister's chips.  Not all of them, though.  Just enough that she had to throw them out.  They were Moe's chips and quaeso, too.  Now she's snoring like a chainsaw.
Arg.

Also, my brother's plans were spoiled because his friend decided to do drugs or something.

And now my dog's waking up.  Damnit.

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We know he's not a mindless slave.  That's why some words are bolded, we're using power to make him do those things.  Otherwise, he has free will.