This is a made up story I wrote back in High school in 2010 when I was 17 years old, relating it to certain aspects of myself but with a complete twist. I had to write a story using certain words such as "debase", "decorum","effeminate" and etc.
Kaizer Hossain ITHS
Ms. Conn 2/11/2010
Lying in my bed, thinking about what my purpose in this world is. I always seemed to fabricate things, telling myself that I would be a famous actor, or perhaps a CEO of an enormously famous company. But in reality, it was all just a built up image in my mind that I set up to keep myself motivated. I’m not really sure why I did it, but maybe it was because I was afraid of my inevitable downfall. After all, my dreams were surrounded by a vast dearth of my focusable desires. Desires being penetrated by the people in my life that constantly debase me. I often thought about what it would be like if I effaced them out of existence, but the very idea of that dismayed me. Sometimes I would wonder if there were facsimiles of people like me, in other dimensions. Except maybe their lives were rather jovial. One way or another, I didn’t like the way things were going for me.
I was 19, and had just barely managed to graduate from high school. I got accepted to some low formal college specializing in liberal arts. It was perfect for me, because I didn’t really know what I wanted to do at that point. They had a huge gamut of programs and classes to take. The school was supposedly “not that great” because it was relatively new. However I have to say, the whole structure of the place really did captivate me. The professors and students were really benevolent, and they really made me feel at home. I decided to live on dorms to get out of my home in Bedford, NY. The college was actually not that far from home, though. It was located in Detroit, Michigan. The building was isolated from the rest of the city, in an urban-suburban area south-east of Detroit. It was beautiful. My roommate grew up on an Alabama farm, and had such an ebullient personality. He was the ‘life of the party’ to everyone in the college. He really seemed to bring out the best in me. He said his name was Griffen. I often wondered if that was really his name, though. I decided to get away from home because my parents were dreadfully malevolent. They were always fighting and breaking things in the house. This one time, my dad beat my dog to death because it pissed on our carpet. It’s a miracle I even managed to find the money for college. I won’t go into details on how I managed to do so, though... but in any case, I was always afraid to leave my baby sister, Shana, at home with them when I was gone. I usually brought her to a daycare center whenever I left the house. I figured it was the most benign place to bring her to outside of the home.
Midway through college, I realized just what I wanted to be in life. I capitulated to my will, cajoled by a group of close professors and students. I had once thought of it as a dream; a very unrealistic dream. However I had learned that it was not all that hard. “This earth is but one tiny figment in this universe. Out there. That’s where all of life’s secrets await us.” One of my fellow colleagues told me, pointing up at the sky. “So you want to be an Astronomer, eh Josh?” My professor told me. Ever since I was little, the universe, the stars, and the galaxies always seemed to amaze me. I always felt that somewhere out there, trillions of light-years away, heaven awaited. Or maybe even some other form of intelligence was out there. There are so many UFO cases and abductions reported. It all seemed so appealing. I actually passed my astronomy class with a 98 average in high school, despite my low grades in everything else. That one grade became extremely beneficial to me, in an ironic twist of fate.
As I progressed through college, studying Astronomy and Physics, I met this stunningly beautiful girl named Brooke. She was the most amazing girl I had ever met. She showed such a sense of decorum and yet she was so effeminate and intelligent. I instantly fell in love with her, and she instantly fell in love with me; or so I thought. I unanimously, and at the time, unknowingly abdicated my studies and gave my soul to her. I ended up dropping out of college and married her. We lived in a small apartment in some unheard of town north-western Michigan. Everything seemed perfect, until I realized my wife would no longer smile, laugh, and hold me the way she used to. She slowly started becoming belligerent and gluttonous. I started noticing my money was missing, and every time I asked her what had happened to it, she said she needed it to pay off her “loans” to other people. I realized she hawked my wedding ring I gave her. She would always belittle me just as my parents did. I started feeling trapped. I felt like she was trying to abase me. I went through a very depressing stage, and started taking pills to help relieve the stress. One day, I decided to be candid about everything, and confronted her. We ended up getting into a huge fight, which involved throwing and breaking things. Flashbacks, I thought... “I want a divorce!!” she shouted. Just as I thought my world was turning around, it was falling apart before my very eyes. Technically, I was living under her roof, so she kicked me out of the house. I ended up losing in touch with my baby sister, and my parents wanted nothing to do with me. I called Griffen, but at that point he had found a great job in technological arts somewhere in Wisconsin. I was alone, and living on the streets. I never would have imagined that I would make waking up, and hunting for food in garbage cans a habitual routine. I felt so ignominious of myself. Unfortunately, in retrospect, here I am. I’m still suffering the aftermath of my ill-fated life. I was once quite a laudable young man, but I guess it was just inherent of me to go through this. My current occupation is ‘slave of mind’, and I currently reside on 34th street. I make a living from magnanimous souls, who probably just pity me. Sometimes, not every story ends the way you think it will. But this is my story, and I guess you can call it bittersweet. Why, you ask? Well I found a lottery ticket that seems to be half filled out. Maybe I’ll get lucky... Or maybe I won’t.