Will you ever remember me?

Will you ever remember me? remember pbtmpa

Thursday, October 17, 2013
Will you ever remember me?

You may always wonder if a decision you made long ago was the right one. I know for me, I think that it was, but maybe I was wrong. Being a Believer, I always thought going to church having faith that life would end up better, never told me that having faith would last a lifetime and the struggles for a better life too. I know I haven’t written in a week and I kind of miss it, but it’s so hard to do when (you don’t take your MEDs) and are sick. One thinks about blowing the nose trying not to cough because it hurts too. But I never believed I would think of my life and decisions I made from the past all over again. This week I thought and prayed to God that things would get better no more scrounging to pay bills and thinking about debt that won’t go away (school). I never thought me wanting to be a writer would take so long to figure out and to get noticed. I’m still not known, yet my cousin is, and he struggled why wouldn’t my name, just get me out to the world with his? Wilson Rawls if you were alive would you help me?

I’ve said I wanted to be a novelist, and then it was a comic book writer, and then to screenplays, back to comic book. Well, I know I’m supposed to (or at least I think I am) write scripts of some kind entering contest only to spend money and nothing turning into anything. Then being told I should pitch my script yet it wasn’t perfect and things need to be perfect. I’m unknown, unagented/manager, No one knows who I am yet those who’ve read my writing say I have potential. Well, why won’t you help me make my writing perfect and to sell it too or at least get an agent who will mentor me? Well, this has not come to pass, and I don’t know if it ever will. I know my wife supports this decision, but without being able to help her live a non-dull life and not worry about bills is something I want to do, but I don’t want a regular job. (I hate people, okay customers, so needy)

Being sick sure does make you think of things you wouldn’t be otherwise, or maybe you would just not at that time. I know I seek fame, but now I just seek someone to help mold me further into the writer I want to be and to make a paycheck no matter how small. I would like to be a man, but for some reason, I’ve lost hope in myself, God, people, the government. Hope helps us dream, but when we lose our dreams, we lose our hope, and I have lost both. I would if I didn’t have my wife dogs and mother in the world today commit suicide. I have thought of it. Because really those are the only people who would mourn for me, but if they too, weren’t here, then why would I need to live. My dreams are dead. My faith is weak or gone. My hope is gone.

No one will read this, but my wife and mom. So who am I, really writing this for myself, my ego, my God, or just something else? I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but so far I can predict it and it will be like any other day boring, lifeless, financially mind blowingly depressing, dull, full of love from two dogs, my wife, my mom, but what will be different. I’ve tried to make each day different and knew only to be consumed of yesterday shit in todays. I know there are crises all over the world, I know there are people worse off than me, but why do I have the heart to help and give, yet have nothing, but shit in my hands?

“Don’t forget me when you made it?” People used to say when telling them of my dreams and what I wanted to do. Well, today I ask you, will you ever remember me?

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