Written by Andrew Scrivener
There are many men who do tell stories;
of everywhere they go.
So many men who speak;
of all the brilliant things they know.
Would you have me speak this vanity?
To partake in this insanity?
This is a story of a soul
A living man through God made whole.
A man who dwells with God above.
Who always seeks the ways of Love.
Of the days before my earliest memories, I am told I was a terror. My family was the sort who spent their days in front of the television, and me the sort who had conquered Mario several times by the age of 3. I do not remember the days my parents were together, but I know they were short, though full of passion.
It was as the only child of a single and loving mother living always someplace local to Ipswich, that I grew to find my place in the slave pit known as society. It was not a comfortable ride through primary school, as I had been the subject of much teasing because of my unattractive appearance. Due to this I quickly developed a strong desire to protect the weak, and an uncanny ability to conceptualise the perceptions of others to avoid unnecessary harassment from my classmates and many family friends.
The early years of High school came not soon enough, and with a move to a new area. An exciting time full of possibilities, many of which went unfulfilled. I quickly well into my place; among those I was most compatible, and year 8 and 9 passed quickly.
My grades were acceptable, and I enjoyed my small selection of friends.
It was with another move to begin year 10 that there was a profound change in me, by the influence of the quickly increasing social groups I found myself invited amongst. Year 10 was a time of searching, for people more like me, with whom I could deeply connect. Many faces, many friends, but only two became my conrads, and with these I still hold intimate friendship, amongst others who entered my life later.
Then begun the years of trouble, as I filled my life with the many fruitless pursuits of the flesh. There was not a day I was not busy with someone, and several times a week in the company of burden and other substances. The abundance of substances was due to a rich friend, and many hundreds of dollars went weekly into our many forms of entertainment.
As one would expect, only two short years passed before I begun to enter a pit of depression. Although before being consumed by the beast, I found rest in the hope of a new love. My lifestyle didn’t change, but with company I felt more restful in the continuing abuse of my body.
It was only several short months before we got the news, she was pregnant, and I knew then all things were going to change. I was 17, and she was 16, and it was after much discussion, we decided an abortion was our most responsible option, and quickly went about the deed.
In no words powerful enough can I express the pain that followed this action, as the guilt of my sin wore down upon my conscience and I descended into the spiritual abyss of darkness. I was by far no man of God, having never heard of such beauty, even in my time of schooling, and still, even with my ignorance, my burden was upon me.
The heart of a man is made in the image of his parents, and thus mine spoke words of love and hope from birth, but through evil intentions and the resulting sin, those words were quickly lost to me.
Quickly my outward reflection changed, and my partner received the fullness of my pented pain and frustration. It was within 3 months, I found her cheating with a man she had only recently met, and my hurt was great. After the relationship ended, I felt, ever so alone. There was no love in me, and no words came from my mouth, no connection could be made with any other. I would try, but it was fake, I could not feel, there was…nothing.
I moved, I ran, I tried to escape the cage of my reality, and found refuge at my Fathers farm. But even there my pains did follow me, and there it was I discovered those pains were echoed in others, and I was not alone in my misery. Yet there is no peace amongst the miserable, and like ravenous wolves were ripped and bit at each others hearts, and vanity reigned amongst us. Six long months passed before I knew I had to flee once more, this time to the only place I had known lasting peace.
At the age of 18, I did what no young teen wishes to do….I moved back in with my Mum. To me, things could not be worse, as I battled with the pain of my heart and the failure of my flesh to materialize good works in my life.
I started working at the meatworks, a place of death for one who is dead I thought. It suited me well being surrounded by the sullen faces of my colleges, and certainly the money bought me movements of live I could not find within. Despite the many distractions, I still could not rest, and my pain begun to manifest as panic attacks, as I could no longer contain the guilt which bore down upon me.
Weeks passed, every day closer to death, and only the fear of the pain I would cause my family through my death was I kept alive.
I was only after all these years, midway through 18, that I said my first true prayer, and so quickly all things changed.
I met a man from God that day.
He pointed me the way.
To know love you need only pray.
Now victorious I stay.
It's the only "creative writing" assignment we are given, so I thought I'd make it count.
Hope you enjoy it =]
I have to hand it in tomorrow, and 8 hours from now i'll have left for tafe, so if you see any errors be sure to fill me in.
This post has been edited by Andypants: 24 February 2009 - 07:10 AM