Old essay that still makes me smile
Posted: Fri Apr 08, 2011 2:56 pm
Below is a document I wrote in high school for a creative project. Read to the end, I think it's worth it. Even though I cringe at the grammar and writing style, I still like this story. Thoughts? (Don't judge too harshly - I wrote this over a decade ago.)
Now, you must understand that what I am telling you is in the strictest confidence. I can only hope that what I say here will not affect you in any way and will not change the current relationship we have. I like the way things are and if I could hold back time with my teeth, I’d do so. I would literally grab onto the impossible physical manifestation and put it in a Full Nelson, pinning it and freezing the moment until my muscles tire… Oh. Sorry for rambling.
I have strayed too far from what needs to be said, which is serious, unlike what I normally attempt to communicate. See, I started doing it years ago, when I was only twelve, first overcoming my fear and then – my addiction reached a point where if I didn’t go off every day, I would start shaking. I fondly remember the horrible nights I spent with friends in a car, parked out in the middle of nowhere, the windows fogged up and insane giggles being released every so often. I would be dropped off at home, completely unaware of where I am and I would go straight to my room, avoiding my parents so they couldn’t smell it on me. If my parents had known I had started that early… I shudder to think of the consequences. …I still don’t think they know I’ve done it in the first place.
There is one specific moment I can remember, down in my friend Matt’s basement. His parents were gone, which gave us the perfect opportunity for tomfoolery. I always burnt my fingers trying to spark the cheap-o Bic lighter… I was so inexperienced then. On this night, Matt got extremely messed up. It was one in the morning and he knocked over the cans around him, spouting off curse words like they were penny-candy. He began to cry and laugh at the same time, which frightened me dearly – the whites of my eyes showing on all sides of my irises. This was my first encounter with a person not being able to handle it. He started pounding his fist on the basement floor, which only had a thin layer of shag carpet and so he shook the room thunderously. Every time he lifted his fist, I can remember noticing a bruise forming bigger and bigger. I sat there – stupefied, helpless, and shaking like a rag doll. Things were too serious, too scary and I was on the verge of a panic attack. We got lucky when the smoke alarm went off because of the constant smoke being produced. We both snapped out of the moment, ran outside onto the fresh morning dew and, of all things, began to laugh away the anxiety.
I once got extremely bold and tried doing it at school once. The groundskeeper caught me. …And I swear to you: I am not lying about this next part and not a single bit of it is hyperbole. The man took the lighter from me, wryly smiled, and joined me. I will never forget Charlie. About ten minutes later, he told me not to do it on school grounds anymore; otherwise he would not be so nice next time. Since then, I learned to do it in moderation. If I went off lighting up without some kind of protection or security measure, I was bound to get into some serious shit. Not everyone is as cool as Charlie.
Then came New Years Eve of 2003. My parents went to a teacher party they always do and I was home alone again. …I desperately desired to be with my high school sweetheart, but I could not. Instead, I found solace from my loneliness again in “communing with nature.” A long story short, I sneezed when I lit a match and dropped it on the rug. I was so crazed at the moment that I didn’t notice it was starting to catch fire. When I noticed, I quickly put it out with my shoe and I began to panic. My creativity set in and I turned the rug so that the burnt corner was under the couch. It still looks normal because the rug was symmetrical. I remember giggling hysterically when my parents came back and asked what the smell was… I told them I had been baking, which – in a sense, I had been.
From all of my experiences, I have come to realize that not only does lighting up help me to relax; blazing boosts my mental capacity, rather than slowing it. My creative writings I have made are all done while I was “in the mindset” and I feel like I am in Nirvana. The only thing that it hinders for me is long-term projects, such as essays or studying for tests. Despite what people believe or say about it, it makes me happy. Shouldn’t that be good enough for the world?
I thought I’d share this with you. …There are very few people out there that know how much I love to light my farts on fire.