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| Living in the Shadows; Part 2, from a new perspective. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 26 2018, 08:13 PM (64 Views) | |
| Matt Mendez | Jan 26 2018, 08:13 PM Post #1 |
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The sting of straight Jack Daniels still lingered in his throat. He’s been drinking for a couple of hours now, alone, in his apartment in the outskirts of Jersey City. His shelter. He had resorted to smoking and drinking from an early age; around the time the comparisons began. He couldn’t bear it, never getting any recognition for what he accomplished; always living in the shadow of another person. His parents didn’t know it, why would he give them more reasons to believe he was a loose cannon, someone that was lost and didn’t really have any salvation. He hid it, like he always did. Within himself, within the pages of that diary he kept ever since he was nine years old. Every fight had a date and a quote. The diary served him as a constant reminder that the world wasn’t exactly what he thought it was... what it was for him. Life was always easy for his brother, at least that’s what he thought as a kid who knew only what grown ups let him see. He never really saw any struggle whatsoever in what his brother did... so he wondered how easy life would be for him. Then reality struck. One faithful day at school, someone burst the bubble he was living in. He couldn’t bear it, the thought of his hero, his brother being something he didn’t though he was. So he fought. With every fist that landed, he received three times the amount... and more when he got home that day. He cried, what kid wouldn’t? The only thing he did was to defend his brother from the accusations against him. He knew better, he knew how hard his brother worked to get where he was, he knew how good his brother was... or did he? That night he started writing, with every word pain kept pouring into the pages. Pages that kept getting filled year by year. With sorrow and despair. It always seemed to be something with the kid... cigarettes, booze, drugs... something. He was in a constant state of rage. Fighting with the world, fighting with himself, fighting with the pages of the diary he kept... for some reason. Then she appeared. For a split second in the grand scheme of things, it seemed like his life finally had a reason. She helped him canalize every bit of anger into something. It was she who first got him into contact sports. It was she who guided him out of drugs, tobacco and alcohol. It was she who stuck with him for all his up and downs... until she got enough. Once again, he spiraled out of control... at least drugs were replaced with music. He became more of a loner than what he has ever been. He kept blaming himself for every missteps he’s had in his life. He learned about how good his brother’s life was... and for the first time, he didn’t feel proud towards him. He felt anger... so he cried... like he’s crying today... as he scribbles one more day in me. |
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