A New Day

So I've decided that its time I did some serious soul searching. I keep looking back on the past five years with a feeling of hesitation. Traveling with my pack of hooligans in the streets before and after matches pumped some serious high octane energy into my static, stale, stillwater life, but times change. I remember cleaning the blood off my childhood aluminum Easton baseball bat for the first time and recalling how that metal shaft always sounded the same when it struck something whether it be someone's skull or a baseball. *ting*. I began writing this blog because I didn't want to keep a journal around the house. Writing has caused me to see the errors of my ways. My only choice now is to head out on the road alone. Completely alone without the guidance of anyone. I had to figure out once and for all what life was all about. Most things we cherish are fake social constructions.

When I was a kid my friend and I would have sleep overs playing video games for hours or telling each other how we would decide to divide our riches once we became rich. My family lived in a low income housing complex and the walls were unbelievably thin. If someone was having a good time on the other side we would know it. During the night we would hear a women that, we thought, was writhing in ecstasy in bed with her lover. My friend and I would masturbate quietly listening to what we thought was the sounds of proper lovemaking. My family knew the women next door and she was a stunner. I almost fainted one night when my parents told me that Lisa, the screamer next door, had died. She was awaiting a request for an adequate organ donor and nothing had come in time. Those late night shrieks were the worst suffering in the world and I sat there imagining it to be sounds of the greatest pleasure. All that separated us was a god damn wall.