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Posted 12 years ago\,,,/ d-_-b \,,,/
POSTED JUST BECAUSE FUCK YOU, THAT'S WHY!
But not really...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RzpRU347BDU
POSTED JUST BECAUSE FUCK YOU, THAT'S WHY!
But not really...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RzpRU347BDU
I thought writing might help....
Posted 12 years agoMy entire evening has been tossed like a curve ball. I thought writing, whether to myself, or maybe to anybody else who wants to listen, might help me calm down and express myself.
I really love music. I've been a musician since I was five when I used to play made-up songs on my tiny plastic keyboard. I never banged on it, just tried to make sounds work with each other. My parents saw this and quickly turned me on to the idea of taking lessons. I loved the thought. I remember playing my first concert and how I played 'America the Beautiful' at our veteran's event. This was after the events of Nine-Eleven, so it was extremely important.
Later, after a few more concerts and hours spent practicing and taking lessons, I guess I somehow grew exceptionally good. I accelerated past the rest and ended up taking massive steps through the lesson books and solos.
It was always so much fun.
It was always pretty lonely, too. 'Solo' piano.
Before middle-school, I dreamed of being in the band. Seeing as piano isn't a bad instrument, I had to make the decision to either not take band or take up a new challenge. I chose the alto saxophone, and I had a blast since trying to put my first breath of air through the horn.
Skip another year, I finally joined our band. I felt at home being able to play amongst everyone else and make music, even though those first years were pretty brutally bad playing wise.
The best memories were the ones after joining jazz band when I met my new friends who also loved music. We always talked and played songs together; the lonely feelings started to fade. We all became great players and wanted to be as good as we possibly could. The only thing that could trump that was our quartet. We even made CD's together, and sold them to earn funds for our big trip.
I began getting very sick around the eighth-grade. I became restless, distraught and depressed without a real reason to feel the way I did. Everything started spiraling out of control to the point where I nearly lost everything. I ended up locked away in a home for mentally-ill kids, got beat-up several times, got even worse and was blessed when they agreed unanimously that the home wasn't were I belonged. I was released.
I was still sick, and we all went on our big band trip. I remember how awful the jet lag was and how I couldn't sleep. I grew sicker each day and had many arguments with my friends. I'm not sure what the events were that led to it, but I remember my friend's father bursting into our room, (I believe he had to get his son's gloves because it was freezing outside) and him telling me, "I'm sick of your fucking bullshit. I've fucking had it. You can just go get locked away in that fucking place again and rot for all I care."
It threw me for a spin and I cried for hours. My mother came in, comforted me for a while and left my prescription of Xanax on the table.
I took all four pills in the bottle to drug myself into sleep so I wouldn't hurt myself. I didn't know why he said those things to me, but I was going to forgive him. I didn't care.
When I got back, I was kicked out of school.
I worked hard for the next couple of months. My morale never wore thin; I was determined to keep fighting.
Whether by some miracle or chance, we found out the cause of my problems. It seems really stupid to say this caused me so much pain, but I had apnea. I put on the mask the first night, and woke up feeling like I hadn't lived a single day until then.
I got better, my grades improved and I could finally go back to school. I went back to band and I remember seeing my best friend, the one who's father said those horrible things to me. I was just excited to see my friend again. I ran up to him and said, "Hey! I've missed you, man. I'm so glad to see you again." I asked him about his trip to all-state, and about all-county, etc. but he only shrugged me off. I asked him later on Facebook why he was so quiet. He was angry at me and told me I deserved those things said about me.
I lost all of my best friends. They all turned on me. I miss them everyday and wish we could be friends again.
I'd forgive them if they wanted. I couldn't give them all of my trust, but I'd be damned if I didn't try.
Music turned into a cutthroat world for me. I don't want to play anymore. I wanted to play music with my friends and make cool songs and have fun. Everything I loved about music is gone. Music was my entire world, and now I have to find a new one. Talking about music with my folks is now never about playing with someone, only about beating everyone else in spite of them betraying me the way they did, or finding a new way to one-up someone. "You should do All-State; you could totally kick whathisface's butt!" Just shut up.
That's why I'm upset. I hate your goddamned ego. You just don't how painful it is that everything I used to love has turned into your sport of hatred. I just wish you could see that.
RANT OVER.
... I feel better now. ;_; sort of.
..... I could use a hug.
I really love music. I've been a musician since I was five when I used to play made-up songs on my tiny plastic keyboard. I never banged on it, just tried to make sounds work with each other. My parents saw this and quickly turned me on to the idea of taking lessons. I loved the thought. I remember playing my first concert and how I played 'America the Beautiful' at our veteran's event. This was after the events of Nine-Eleven, so it was extremely important.
Later, after a few more concerts and hours spent practicing and taking lessons, I guess I somehow grew exceptionally good. I accelerated past the rest and ended up taking massive steps through the lesson books and solos.
It was always so much fun.
It was always pretty lonely, too. 'Solo' piano.
Before middle-school, I dreamed of being in the band. Seeing as piano isn't a bad instrument, I had to make the decision to either not take band or take up a new challenge. I chose the alto saxophone, and I had a blast since trying to put my first breath of air through the horn.
Skip another year, I finally joined our band. I felt at home being able to play amongst everyone else and make music, even though those first years were pretty brutally bad playing wise.
The best memories were the ones after joining jazz band when I met my new friends who also loved music. We always talked and played songs together; the lonely feelings started to fade. We all became great players and wanted to be as good as we possibly could. The only thing that could trump that was our quartet. We even made CD's together, and sold them to earn funds for our big trip.
I began getting very sick around the eighth-grade. I became restless, distraught and depressed without a real reason to feel the way I did. Everything started spiraling out of control to the point where I nearly lost everything. I ended up locked away in a home for mentally-ill kids, got beat-up several times, got even worse and was blessed when they agreed unanimously that the home wasn't were I belonged. I was released.
I was still sick, and we all went on our big band trip. I remember how awful the jet lag was and how I couldn't sleep. I grew sicker each day and had many arguments with my friends. I'm not sure what the events were that led to it, but I remember my friend's father bursting into our room, (I believe he had to get his son's gloves because it was freezing outside) and him telling me, "I'm sick of your fucking bullshit. I've fucking had it. You can just go get locked away in that fucking place again and rot for all I care."
It threw me for a spin and I cried for hours. My mother came in, comforted me for a while and left my prescription of Xanax on the table.
I took all four pills in the bottle to drug myself into sleep so I wouldn't hurt myself. I didn't know why he said those things to me, but I was going to forgive him. I didn't care.
When I got back, I was kicked out of school.
I worked hard for the next couple of months. My morale never wore thin; I was determined to keep fighting.
Whether by some miracle or chance, we found out the cause of my problems. It seems really stupid to say this caused me so much pain, but I had apnea. I put on the mask the first night, and woke up feeling like I hadn't lived a single day until then.
I got better, my grades improved and I could finally go back to school. I went back to band and I remember seeing my best friend, the one who's father said those horrible things to me. I was just excited to see my friend again. I ran up to him and said, "Hey! I've missed you, man. I'm so glad to see you again." I asked him about his trip to all-state, and about all-county, etc. but he only shrugged me off. I asked him later on Facebook why he was so quiet. He was angry at me and told me I deserved those things said about me.
I lost all of my best friends. They all turned on me. I miss them everyday and wish we could be friends again.
I'd forgive them if they wanted. I couldn't give them all of my trust, but I'd be damned if I didn't try.
Music turned into a cutthroat world for me. I don't want to play anymore. I wanted to play music with my friends and make cool songs and have fun. Everything I loved about music is gone. Music was my entire world, and now I have to find a new one. Talking about music with my folks is now never about playing with someone, only about beating everyone else in spite of them betraying me the way they did, or finding a new way to one-up someone. "You should do All-State; you could totally kick whathisface's butt!" Just shut up.
That's why I'm upset. I hate your goddamned ego. You just don't how painful it is that everything I used to love has turned into your sport of hatred. I just wish you could see that.
RANT OVER.
... I feel better now. ;_; sort of.
..... I could use a hug.
I thought writing might help....
Posted 12 years agoFree tail raffle!
Posted 12 years agoSorry I doubted you, FA.
Posted 13 years agoI wanted to leave this journal here for future's sake.
I, Wicke, have doubted FurAffinity and I am deeply sorry for it.
Too nervous, I suppose, to attempt to interact with everyone here. I thought I might get judged for not having the best art, or that I might make a slip and say the wrong things. Above all else, I loathe trying to meet people. I hate having to break social barriers over the internet to make into someone's friend circle.
Instead, I met TONS of furs within the first week of my journey through FA that were kind and hillarious. I can't thank them, and anyone else I meet in the future, enough.
Thank you, FA. I'm sorry.
I, Wicke, have doubted FurAffinity and I am deeply sorry for it.
Too nervous, I suppose, to attempt to interact with everyone here. I thought I might get judged for not having the best art, or that I might make a slip and say the wrong things. Above all else, I loathe trying to meet people. I hate having to break social barriers over the internet to make into someone's friend circle.
Instead, I met TONS of furs within the first week of my journey through FA that were kind and hillarious. I can't thank them, and anyone else I meet in the future, enough.
Thank you, FA. I'm sorry.
