Applause, applause, no wait wait
Dear studio audience, I've an announcement to make:
It seems the artists these days are not who you think
So we'll pick back up on that on another page
f u l l █ n a m e
Donovan Lee Mercer
n i c k n a m e s
Donny
o n October 30th i █ b l o w o u t seventeen c a n d l e s
w h i c h █ o n e
I'm a real boy, got it?
i █ p l a y █ f a v o r i t e s
#e65cb3
r e a d █ m y █ d i a r y
The world was graced with my presence on October thirtieth at seven forty three in the evening in the year of nineteen ninety by the graces of Martha and Malcolm Mercer, all thanks goes to those people even if I didn’t know them at that time. They were young then and couldn’t handle a child so I just assume they pawned me off to my grandmother and grandfather, Donny and Elaine Carter, my mothers parents. I know who my parents were, but never met them. They just never came around. But it’s all good, my grandparents were better parents than they could have been,
I had a normal childhood I suppose. I played baseball and football, soccer and basketball, I pretty much did it all. I had great friends too, they were the best. I wasn’t good at sports, but I loved them anyways. I was better at reading and taking pictures, something that little boys just didn’t do. I didn’t want to disappoint my grandpa by not being a real boy, and after my seventh birthday, I dedicated my life to him. Three days after my birthday we buried him. Yeah, he died on my ninth birthday. He was eighty four.
I think from then on my birthday was always the least looked forward to day in the year. We never had parties for me after that. Instead we took trips to visit grandpa. I didn’t mind much, but after about five years I wanted to stop going to visit and have a party. I mean it was the cool thing to do at school. Well I fought for a party but didn’t win. So like usual Grandma forced me to go visit grandpa for my birthday. It was a rainy day that year and it was hard to see. We had just left and I was soaked to the bone and shivering. I can almost remember it like ti happened yesterday.
Grandma and I had just taken the turn out of the cemetery and then we were slammed into. Yeah, so jerk ran into us doing about one hundred and ten miles an hour, into the passenger side of the car. I was in the hospital for almost three months, and then I lost my grandmother. She had died in the emergency room the day we were brought there, I didn’t get to say goodbye. I was in a coma for the first two months of the three I was in there, the rest of the time I had to learn to walk and talk again, but I didn’t speak for another six months.
I had lived with an aunt for those six months but then her and her husband conceived the child they had been trying to get for years and I was supposed to be so they didn’t need me anymore. These people showed up a few months after I had started talking again and the end of my freshman year of high school and said they were my parents and took me off to Seattle Washington, away from all my friends and everything I had ever known. I hate them still to this day for it.
Well I didn’t like them, my “parents” as it were. They were crash, rude, immature people with too many kids running around in the four room apartment, that was about three rooms to small. Aside from me they had four other children ranging in age from ten to three at the time. A set of identical female twins, Anna and Hannah, who were ten, a little boy, Carson, who was six and the youngest was a little girl, Keyleigh, who was three. I didn’t like living in that house and I didn’t like being around any of them. The kids were just like my so called parents and it was just bad. Well, I rebelled against them and their so called “loving environment” they had for me.
I was in and out of jail for the first year and a half I was there. I was deep into alcohol and heroine. I spent six months in rehab to kick the stuff. The last part of my three year stay with my biological parents was spent sexing up anyone and everyone I could find until eventually I became a teen daddy. The girls father didn’t like me because I had black hair and lip piercing I had done myself so he threatened to press charges unless I moved back to where I came from. So needless to say I left behind the girl I thought I loved and went back home.
It didn’t bother me much. My grandma had left everything to me so I had her house and what money she did have so I was set. I moved back into the house I grew up in two days before my seventeenth birthday and in the middle of my senior year of high school. I was different. Before I was a warm loving boy, when I came back I was cold and hatefully, blaming all in the world on myself, as I had learned to do with my parents. To them, I was the cause of everything wrong for them, but I don’t see how that works.
I’ve seen pictures of my son, named after me to the extent that Melina, his mother, even gave him my last name. I’ll know the boy. Melina’s dad said if I ever go near my son or his daughter I was dead. It sucks because the kid looked just like me. Maybe I was meant to leave the loves of my life back there. I want to start anew back home. Not sure how well it will work though with my heart being back in Seattle.
o u t █ t h e r e █ m u c h
As a child I was warm and loving. Guess it just came with the environment I was raised in. I was the loving kid who would do anything you wanted him to do, as long as you would be my friend. I didn’t have many friends, but the ones I did have I cherished like there was no tomorrow.
After my grandpa died I kind of closed off a bit. I mean I lost someone close to me. But after a while I opened up again, but I was no where near as sweet and caring as I was before. I just didn’t care as much. I mean I was young and the strongest, bravest man, my idol, my superhero had been taken from me. Nothing worse could happen to a boy at that age. Everything I had known was gone, well not everything. That happened later. I don’t remember much of the time between my Grandpa passing and the accident. Something about my short term memory or something. Oh well.
After that I grew cold and bitter. I didn’t talk to anyone, I didn’t let anyone in. I didn’t want to be hurt and by caring you only got hurt and hurt others. I didn’t want to hurt anyone the way I had been hurt. I didn’t want to run out on anyone. Well I was turned out and taken to the worse possible place to take a broken child, to a cesspit disguised as a home. There I grew colder, not caring for anything, no one. Except Melina. That was after I tried to kill myself by overdosing and everything else and after I had cleaned up. She meant everything. Her father taking her and my son away is still killing me.
p l a y █ b y █ e a r
I Write Sins Not Tragedies by Panic! At the Disco
p u p p e t █ m a s t e r
P i K A S A U R U S R 3 X
Donovan Lee Mercer
n i c k n a m e s
Donny
o n October 30th i █ b l o w o u t seventeen c a n d l e s
w h i c h █ o n e
I'm a real boy, got it?
i █ p l a y █ f a v o r i t e s
#e65cb3
r e a d █ m y █ d i a r y
The world was graced with my presence on October thirtieth at seven forty three in the evening in the year of nineteen ninety by the graces of Martha and Malcolm Mercer, all thanks goes to those people even if I didn’t know them at that time. They were young then and couldn’t handle a child so I just assume they pawned me off to my grandmother and grandfather, Donny and Elaine Carter, my mothers parents. I know who my parents were, but never met them. They just never came around. But it’s all good, my grandparents were better parents than they could have been,
I had a normal childhood I suppose. I played baseball and football, soccer and basketball, I pretty much did it all. I had great friends too, they were the best. I wasn’t good at sports, but I loved them anyways. I was better at reading and taking pictures, something that little boys just didn’t do. I didn’t want to disappoint my grandpa by not being a real boy, and after my seventh birthday, I dedicated my life to him. Three days after my birthday we buried him. Yeah, he died on my ninth birthday. He was eighty four.
I think from then on my birthday was always the least looked forward to day in the year. We never had parties for me after that. Instead we took trips to visit grandpa. I didn’t mind much, but after about five years I wanted to stop going to visit and have a party. I mean it was the cool thing to do at school. Well I fought for a party but didn’t win. So like usual Grandma forced me to go visit grandpa for my birthday. It was a rainy day that year and it was hard to see. We had just left and I was soaked to the bone and shivering. I can almost remember it like ti happened yesterday.
Grandma and I had just taken the turn out of the cemetery and then we were slammed into. Yeah, so jerk ran into us doing about one hundred and ten miles an hour, into the passenger side of the car. I was in the hospital for almost three months, and then I lost my grandmother. She had died in the emergency room the day we were brought there, I didn’t get to say goodbye. I was in a coma for the first two months of the three I was in there, the rest of the time I had to learn to walk and talk again, but I didn’t speak for another six months.
I had lived with an aunt for those six months but then her and her husband conceived the child they had been trying to get for years and I was supposed to be so they didn’t need me anymore. These people showed up a few months after I had started talking again and the end of my freshman year of high school and said they were my parents and took me off to Seattle Washington, away from all my friends and everything I had ever known. I hate them still to this day for it.
Well I didn’t like them, my “parents” as it were. They were crash, rude, immature people with too many kids running around in the four room apartment, that was about three rooms to small. Aside from me they had four other children ranging in age from ten to three at the time. A set of identical female twins, Anna and Hannah, who were ten, a little boy, Carson, who was six and the youngest was a little girl, Keyleigh, who was three. I didn’t like living in that house and I didn’t like being around any of them. The kids were just like my so called parents and it was just bad. Well, I rebelled against them and their so called “loving environment” they had for me.
I was in and out of jail for the first year and a half I was there. I was deep into alcohol and heroine. I spent six months in rehab to kick the stuff. The last part of my three year stay with my biological parents was spent sexing up anyone and everyone I could find until eventually I became a teen daddy. The girls father didn’t like me because I had black hair and lip piercing I had done myself so he threatened to press charges unless I moved back to where I came from. So needless to say I left behind the girl I thought I loved and went back home.
It didn’t bother me much. My grandma had left everything to me so I had her house and what money she did have so I was set. I moved back into the house I grew up in two days before my seventeenth birthday and in the middle of my senior year of high school. I was different. Before I was a warm loving boy, when I came back I was cold and hatefully, blaming all in the world on myself, as I had learned to do with my parents. To them, I was the cause of everything wrong for them, but I don’t see how that works.
I’ve seen pictures of my son, named after me to the extent that Melina, his mother, even gave him my last name. I’ll know the boy. Melina’s dad said if I ever go near my son or his daughter I was dead. It sucks because the kid looked just like me. Maybe I was meant to leave the loves of my life back there. I want to start anew back home. Not sure how well it will work though with my heart being back in Seattle.
o u t █ t h e r e █ m u c h
As a child I was warm and loving. Guess it just came with the environment I was raised in. I was the loving kid who would do anything you wanted him to do, as long as you would be my friend. I didn’t have many friends, but the ones I did have I cherished like there was no tomorrow.
After my grandpa died I kind of closed off a bit. I mean I lost someone close to me. But after a while I opened up again, but I was no where near as sweet and caring as I was before. I just didn’t care as much. I mean I was young and the strongest, bravest man, my idol, my superhero had been taken from me. Nothing worse could happen to a boy at that age. Everything I had known was gone, well not everything. That happened later. I don’t remember much of the time between my Grandpa passing and the accident. Something about my short term memory or something. Oh well.
After that I grew cold and bitter. I didn’t talk to anyone, I didn’t let anyone in. I didn’t want to be hurt and by caring you only got hurt and hurt others. I didn’t want to hurt anyone the way I had been hurt. I didn’t want to run out on anyone. Well I was turned out and taken to the worse possible place to take a broken child, to a cesspit disguised as a home. There I grew colder, not caring for anything, no one. Except Melina. That was after I tried to kill myself by overdosing and everything else and after I had cleaned up. She meant everything. Her father taking her and my son away is still killing me.
p l a y █ b y █ e a r
I Write Sins Not Tragedies by Panic! At the Disco
p u p p e t █ m a s t e r
P i K A S A U R U S R 3 X
