Chapter 2 : Limbo?

         Ummm...I was expecting to get disembodied and look down at my last moments, have my life flash before my eyes, see a bright light, or a green glow, but nope...nothing, just darkness.

It does feel like I'm floating though, that's interesting at least.

I wonder if this is limbo, hopefully I'm not stuck here for years or something, personally I'd prefer hellfire and brimstone.

Don't get me wrong, spending an eternity bathing in fire would suck ass, but at least my mind would be occupied by all that pain.

There's nothing I hate more than being bored, it gives my mind too much opportunity to roam, dredge up old memories I'd prefer to forget, and come up with all kinds of ideas that usually lead to trouble.

Being stuck inside your own mind can be torture, especially when it's a bit...twisted.

That's why I rarely finish anything, whether it is a job, school, or relationship, once I'm bored it just falls to the wayside.

            I've often thought that maybe I'm just not cut out for this modern society.

I like the tech, but I've always been rather solitary and not much of a talker, so I've never really fit in too well.

Didn't help that my family was poor so I was always wearing cheap and secondhand clothes.

Not to mention encountering porn when I was still toddling around, apparently I was drawn to it.

Not that I remember it, but according to my parents anytime they turned it on, I'd suddenly appear, no matter where I was in the house.

So yeah, I was turned into a pervert early on...though I was also setting the vcr at 2, so maybe there's some correlation between intelligence and perversion?

            I honestly don't have many early childhood memories of my parents, kind of awkward when you go through the family photos and can't recognize your own parents.

The fault for that is with the poor status though, as they both worked multiple jobs, so I spent most my time at or with a babysitter.

My earliest memories are of playing in the basement by myself and having the babysitter that watched me at my parents house threaten to cut off my fingers.

Then at the babysitters I went to, getting poked in the eye by some little prick, getting made fun of for various reasons, such as my clothes, and playing "show me yours, I'll show you mine" with my first friend...yup, I was a little perv.

Apparently at some point we even told our parents we were going to get married lol, ah the simplicity of youth.

Then my parents got divorced and mom and I moved, though it didn't affect me much since aside from loosing touch with my first friend, the only thing that changed was the house and babysitter. 

             My new babysitters were my grandparents on my mothers' side, who happened to be devout Catholic farmers.

Talk about strict, I got use to pain and discipline pretty quick, which was probably good since my dad moved back in with his parents too, which were a whole other realm of strict.

Have you ever been picked up by your ears? That shit fuckin' hurts. 

How about told to mow the lawn with a scythe? Not fun.

Then there was the time I had to plant an acre of beans by hand, time-consuming doesn't even begin to cover that.

My dads parents were middle ages old-fashioned.

Really, the man pulled some Gladiator shit, went off to war, earned a drawer full of medals, including multiple purple hearts, then retired and bought a farm.

My Grandma made ammunition during the war, apparently they married young.

It was around this time I saw my parents fight for the first time that I can remember.

Wasn't anything huge, my dad stopped himself and stormed off before it got out of hand, but it was the deciding factor for ingraining in me that men aren't suppose to hurt women.

           As any young boy, I was interested in fighting and weapons...a farm really is a play ground fit for a child.

When I was at my moms' parents farm, I helped around in the garden, but spent most my time in the basement playing pool, shuffle board and darts.

I was mostly trying to stay out of the way of my grandparents, unless they told me to do something, to lessen the amount of daily beatings.

At my dads' parents farm, I also tried to stay out of the way, but more because there really wasn't anything to do but run around and find "toys".

So I played with the scythe, a machete and throwing stars I found, and entertained myself by mixing chemicals together to see what would happen.

All that alone time really cuts back on communication skills, I actually thought it was normal to run around talking to yourself.

              At 5, I entered kindergarten just like any other kid, but because I rarely talked, to anyone else at least, I can't say I made any friends either.

At least that also meant that pretty much everyone left me alone, however, I did see a lot of bullying, kids can be so cruel.

After that my life consisted of moving all over the place, since we moved every time mom got a new boyfriend.

Most of them were bikers and military, apparently she had a type.

On the upside, I learned a bit of basic survival from being shoved in boy scouts, and got to shoot a wide variety of guns.

I was thrown into the misfit bunch in school, most of which were alright, but the compulsive liar was a headache.

Being in the misfit crowd and having second-hand clothes, it didn't take long for me to be targeted by bullies.

I didn't know much about fighting at 6, so I just did what I saw from movies...I punt kicked the poor bastard in the junk.

Apparently I hit pretty hard even back then, since he got carted off to the hospital.

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          The rest of my early school life boiled down to one fight after another, either fighting off bullies or just getting into fights to see who was stronger or better, and pursuing my interests, mostly weapons and martial arts.

I don't mean I took classes though, my family was poor, instead I grabbed every book I could on it; and between those and movies, I did what I could to adapt what I read and saw into something usable.

Due to my high intelligence and growing up doing puzzles and farming, I did pretty well at math and science since as a young child I was really interested in the world around me.

I only did well in the other classes until the boredom set in, then it went down hill.

Between the moves I lost contact with most the people I knew, and in solitude turned to spirituality.

As I was interested in nature anyway, I began to research old world and new age religions.

Eventually I settled on a personalized version of Druidism, an old world earth based religion, since not much was known about it.

Taking the core concepts of living alongside nature and keeping balance between the natural world and the man-made one, I combined it with whatever felt right, and created my own version of it.

Almost in direct contrast of the natural feel of Druidism, I ended up getting into ghost hunting and death symbolism like the grim reaper, skeletons, and horror in general.

It eventually got to the point that I was falling asleep at night watching the Many Faces of Death, a documentary showing the most gruesome and disturbing deaths caught on camera.

Finally, I found myself living with my father and in high school...or hell, they both make sense.

I played sports in junior high, was decent enough at most of them, but every time I started making headway, I'd get in trouble for something or injure myself.

So in high school hell I tried taking martial arts at a hole in the wall dojo, but got bored quickly after I beat the instructor in my first week.

Eventually, after a short 2nd term in wrestling, I stopped doing sports and started working, then started skipping class because I didn't want to deal with idiots and boredom anymore than I already was.

My only release in the early days of fast food service and menial labor was being a smart ass.

It's the simple things in life that give the most pleasure, like putting the condiments on a burger in the shape of a pentagram to be handed to a preacher.

That one really couldn't have gone more perfect, the total came up to $6.66 and the light above the drive though window flickered as he got his sandwich...me and the rest of the prep cooks were still giggling like little girls hours later.

            Sarcasm became a way of life for me, or a coping mechanism to release my stress without beating the crap out of every idiot I came across.

It sucks that the older you get the less you can really let loose.

Just like most people, though high school was hell I did manage to make a couple of friends that managed to stay alive and deal with me ever since.

We played havoc in and around the school, breaking shit, raiding lockers, blowing up stuff...really we were just bored.

As a true blue pervert, I did have relationships, but they all went to hell pretty quick...I seem to attract young and crazy, not the best combination for longevity.

My first friend managed to get back a hold of me too, but we quickly fell back out of touch...it got awkward quick after I found out her "parents" were actually extended family.

Her actual parents were in jail due to filming child pornography, of course staring her...really explained why "show and tell" went so far when we were younger.

All in all high school went pretty fast, not all roses though, what do you expect when the highschool has an average death toll per year.

          After entering the "real world" I floated from job to job in my little town till I ran out of possibilities.

I used what money I had and headed to Philly, always wanted to try getting into the city.

By the time I was 20 my style had morphed into some kind of twisted bastard child of goth and biker, with the occasional farm wear.

I quickly got a job and started using the money I didn't spend on food and rent to frequent the night life.

 I worked all day and played all night, often waking up in weird places or next to people whose name I didn't even know.

Twenty to twenty-five went by in a flash, like some rock star fantasy filled with sex, drugs, and deafening music.

Unfortunately, as my luck would have it, it left me with plenty of physical problems and no cash to fall back on, which is how I ended up working a dead-end job at Wally World.

Due to an age-old interest in games that started from the Atari and melded into pen and paper rpg games, I tried briefly to get a degree in game design.

Yeah, that didn't work...game design is extremely expensive due to the software, and designers have to know every aspect of creating a game, which causes a huge overflow of classes arraying from art to programming to computer-aided graphics design, and even business classes, psychology and sociology.

With a monstrous debt and 5 years spent at dead-end job hell, I'm basically stuck waiting for either winning the lottery or dying soon.

I guess dying soon won out between the two options, at least I don't have too many regrets...and I'm talking to myself again, great...well not like there's anything else to do as I float here in the dark.

Hmm...just for shit's and giggles, let's try this....LET THERE BE LIGHT!

...

HOLY SHIT, IT WORKED!!!

In front of me now, is a floating ball of emerald-green light the size of a soccer ball, just floating there...bobbing a bit...almost like it's laughing at me...