5/6/08

Draft 4-Final

What do you see when you look in the mirror? What do you think when you put on your clothes? What do you want others to see? How do people treat you after they see you? My friends, I would like to say that in high school people are judged constantly by the way they dress, or who they hang out with. What is in you that causes you to separate people into groups? What is in you to make a bias by the way someone looks? Everyone's past influences who they are. This is who I am.


When I was born, five days early, Death was already out to get me. My mother had put out her cigarette and soon after went into labor. If I wasn't born right then and there, both me and my mother would have died. I look back then and wonder if she even cared.

How do you label me? Am I a goth?

According to my father, my mother tried to kidnap me while I was still in the womb. She told him that if he didn't marry her, she would run away, and he would never see me. Marcy ( my mother ) claims that Dad promised to marry her in high school, and since they would be wed later, they could make love now. I don't know who to believe.

On my first birthday party, my sister was born. We spent most of our time together because my parents were always fighting. I still don't understand how if they fought all of the time, how could they have two accidental children?

I grew up moving a lot. My father was exhausted from working overtime, raising two kids, cleaning the house, and watching his wife. She was always doped up on medication. She only had a prescription for her bipolar disorder, but not her over-aggressive/manipulative nature or her acute schizophrenia. I am very surprised that they knocked boots at all.

Am I a prep?

I remember one time asking her for breakfast, it was one in the afternoon, my father left for work, and he forgot to feed us beforehand. I waited 5 hours for my mother to get up and make us breakfast, and when I woke her up asking for food, she puffed on a cigarette, then told us to eat an apple because "mommy is too tired to make you cereal." She promptly rolled over and fell asleep, sucking on a cancer stick. I was only four, but I needed to feed my sister. I filled a salad bowl with Lucky Charms and most of a jug of milk. After an hour or so, my mother woke up and spanked a four year old for trying to feed his little sister.

Am I ghetto?

From then on, she spent even less energy on her children. She would leave my sister in a high chair, and let me run around the house. My dad would leave for work, then come home to find me on the fridge with a butcher knife to defend myself from my own mother, and too scared to come down, my sister still in her high chair, and his wife playing her Sega Genesis.

I grew up living off of macaroni and cheese, hot dogs, the two mixed, and hamburger helper. We could barely afford rice my father told me. On a chilly November evening, my father told my mother to leave. I was five years old, and seven months. Even with it being ten years and five months ago, I remember that day crystal clear. She tried to force him out, but he refused, knowing she couldn't feed us, let alone raise us.

Because of my mother's inability to raise children, and her abusive nature, my father divorced her.

Am I a drama kid?

In the divorce my mother claimed everything that "wasn't nailed down." This included my father's clothes, but not her children. My father only wanted full custody of us, and when he could claim something else he said the fridge, because he couldn't feed us otherwise. My father sometimes couldn't feed himself, living off of MnM's and a Mountain Dew when he could afford it. Life was like this for a while.

Am I emo?

Many times my father left us at our grandparent's house instead of leaving us with our mother. He worked 10 hour days to put food on our plates. On the weekends, he would clean the house and get what seemed like make-up sleep for what he missed throughout the week. My father never said once "I don't want to do this." or "This is too much for me." He knew he had a responsibility of being a father, and gladly accepted it.

One night my mother broke into our home. She left a trail of blood and broken glass to my room. She assured me, a six year old, that I would be much happier living with her, and asked me to help get my sister out, then we could run away together. When we left my room, my father stopped her. I didn't realize it at the time, but that was the second time my father stopped my mother from kidnapping me. The police were never involved because having a mother that wasn't around was better than one in prison. After the divorce I saw my mother on weekends. She left us alone with our grandfather on her side. He was always very "friendly" towards children. I don't remember much about him other than being a chain-smoking, drunk, *****. I know that he got "comfortable" with me at least once. I think I can't remember much because I repressed the rest.

How do you label that?

After my mother took us on several visits, many of them ending with some kind of harm, she had to be put into supervised visitation. While she had a few supervisors that failed to censor her, she mentioned to me that she was refusing to take her medication. This of course happened when I was only 11, and by then we had a nice house, a step mom, a step brother, and two half brothers. One half-brother ( the son of a cocaine addict and my mother) is raised by my grandmother. I almost never see him, but I love them all as if they were my full-blood siblings.

She was soon arrested for sexually assaulting senior citizens in a nursing home. She claims to this day that she was just giving one of them a hug. The Fox News claims otherwise.

After this I got into a fight with her at one of my visits. She left the room in a fit of rage. I refused to see her for 4 years except on holidays, which are ruined because of her fighting with me. Just last year she made me see her, because her new therapist had wanted to see me. My grades went down because of the stress. My mom continued to fight me and force-feed me her lies. That was when I got more into my weight lifting, and football, to relieve some tension. This went on for a while, then I refused to go again. Soon after, I got a girlfriend and life was great.

Loner?

Things went fine until the end of football season when she tried to bring my dad to court because he didn't force me to see her. I went to the visits again to make sure she didn't bring my dad to court. My girlfriend soon left me, probably because of my complete change in demeanor. My grades slipped again. My mom continued to lie to me, and her therapist tried to calm me down by silencing me. That controlling b*****d, "forget" him. After a few visits like that, just a few months ago, I told him off. I still haven't seen my mother. I broke the bond that day she walked away. It's been six years, and since then I have had trouble branching out, and severe paranoia. I also have a feeling of never being good enough.

Sketchball?

When you look at someone's past, you can clearly see that they are different from yourself. You can see all of their highs and lows, and frankly a person's history is vast and every minute influences who they are. When you look at your history, sure you had a mom, and a dad, but who were they? What did they do? They grew up to have all those differences that define them. You have little quirks that define you. Everyone has a different take on our world. No one is the same.

So that's me. Many people look at me like a freak. Some call me a jock because I play sports. Some call me a metal head because I listen to my music. Others call me a nerd because I like computers, and yet others call me a fagot because I enjoy poetry. I am none of these. I don't care what someone calls me, because I only have one label, Jason David Platt. it doesn't matter what clothes I wear, it doesn't change who I am. It doesn't matter what you look like, what you do, what you like, you are always yourself. Labels are something that gives people standards to conform to. Just be yourself. Only bear the label of your name.

YOUR name.

***

I love you,
I hate you,
I miss you,
I'm Sorry,

I love you,
I hate you,
I miss you,
I'm Sorry,

I broke us apart
I've broken your heart

I love you,
I hate you,
I miss you,
I'm Sorry,

you spent your
last paycheck
to give me
a present

i turn 'round
backstab you
and leave you
all bloody

I love you,
I hate you,
I miss you,
I'm Sorry,

I left you crying
I left you dying

I love you,
I hate you,
I miss you,
I'm Sorry,

I made you
trust in me
and love me
forever

you gave me
your heart and
your purity (pure-ty)
all for me

I love you,
I hate you,
I miss you,
I'm Sorry,

I cheated on you
Again on her too

I love you,
I hate you,
I miss you,
I'm Sorry,

Now you are
cold, alone
it's my fault
you loved me

you aren't here
you hate me
you left us
we're sorry

I love you,
I hate you,
I miss you,
I'm Sorry,

And because I lie
You thought you should die

I love you,
I hate you,
I miss you,
I'm Sorry,

I love you,
I hate you,
I miss you,
I'm Sorry,

I love you,
I hate you,
I miss you,
I'm Sorry,

I love you,
I hate you,
I miss you,
I'm Sorry

-End

***

I'd trade my soul
I'd trade the air
I'd trade it all
Don't even care....

To see your smile
I'd move the world
You are stunning
Beautiful girl......

Enter my dreams
I see your face
I will never
Leave this place....


Your hair is long
Your eyes are deep
Because of you
Girl, I don't sleep...

-Dedicated to Subconscious

***

criticism wanted please =-)