Friday, June 14, 2013

An Introduction

6-14-13

The date today as such a ring to it. It reminds of the grade school days of making my locker combination my daily mantra as to not forget it. I remember sitting in class and thinking how important these three numbers in that sequence were. Those numbers held my day to day life in it, my books, my backpack, my cellphone; which at the time could be mistaken for the foundation of a soon to be colonial style house, but most importantly these numbers let me stand and watch the cutest guy every day. Fate would have it that the closeted awkward gay 8th grader be placed almost too fortuitously next to the overly muscular and sexy guy, for his age, I knew. 
I could feel the icy stares of the girls in our grade, they were jealous that I got placed to him, it wasn't like I asked for that to happen, or that I asked to be a sexual minority. That's just the way life was. Every day at least 4 times a day I got to dote on the then man of my dreams.

My Name is Scott Mitchell. I am 18 and I am not a writer.

I decided to make this blog to catalogue my emotions since I can't in my mind. I think having a place to release my fears and angers will do me good. I have a chronic depression that somedays controls my life, and others it just sits on the sidelines. I have a poor body image, and somedays I don't eat. My mother insistently ask if I'm eating enough. I tell her "Of course I am Mom, I'm a growing boy." My parents are divorced, by my hand, I think thats when my depression started, because after then I never knew what was real happiness. The days are blurred and blended, I couldn't tell you what happened earlier this week let alone last week or the week before. I smoke, I drink, I do everything they tell you not to do as a young child. A glimpse into my not so perfect life is what everyone needs.

I'll be sure to post more and more later, this is going to be a mix-mash of poems, prose, and heartfelt fuck you's to the people that have screwed me up, and made me the monster I am today.

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