A Letter To My Future Children

Hey kids, this Dad.

 
This is a letter to my future children; a small light upon my all darkness. I know Alex is already here, but I wrote this for when you’re a little older to understand things.

 
I want to tell you the story of my life before you were even born, so you know what I was like around the age you are now. First off, dad was a mental patient; the worst time of my life, I almost lost myself which could have reflected on you never being born. But I want you to know, you are my legacy! You will help our blood carry-on, as well as our family name “Kennedy” We have a creative gene within our family, if you do not have it, your children will.

 
But Dad was a player at one point in his life, he loved the ladies, yes I did. I was never this way inclined before, I couldn’t talk to women before, I missed that chunk of my life when I was mentally-ill but I caught up and overtook all those that believe they could talk and dazzle the ladies. And I have loved some stunning women; some hurt me and some I left with the ache. But every one of them I did love. I have my feelings in the right place now and have tried to build bridges.

 
Now my writings, here we go, my words are all I have; they were all I really had. I write to make sure that when sunlight finally does blush upon your skin, you will not be born into poverty like me and my brothers & sisters were. I want you to know what life is, I don’t want you to be a spoilt brat like some children I see on movies and TV shows. I want you to work for things so you know about self respect.

 
Now your Grandma, my mother, is the strongest person I know. She is my evils kryptonite, she backs it away with logic and riddles, the doctors stuck to a script and it didn’t work for me, but she saved my life. She has been through her own wars, which I can see in her eyes. Look after her; we don’t have many people like that on this planet. People are too hectic in nature; no one smells the roses anymore, unless their I-Phone 5 can squirt smells under their noses.

 
Now please don’t judge me through my writings, it’s my process to keep the voices and urges at bay. But I know I will be proud of you, I will write the most amazing things this world will ever imagine so that you can have the proper upbringing. I will not stop. Yes, I have a dream and there are certain things I would like, but I must work and fight for what I want; you must do the same.

 
I am not sure exactly sure why I am writing this, but this is just in case there is an accident and I am no longer Earth bound or I have lost it completely and there is no cure for my madness; if that is the case, do not come and visit me, I do not wish for you to see me in that state.

 
But I will continue to write for you, even if I die, I will send you secret scrolls from Heaven.

 
I will love you forever.
Dad

Why Mental Illness Can Save Someone’s Life

So I’m crazy. The doctors drilled it into me, mom and dad wept for me, brothers and sisters didn’t pick on me and friends stayed clear of me. Can you blame them? But we’re all a little crazy, the world is one big mental asylum and all the countries are personal padded cells for all nationalities. But in this day and age, broken is the new fixed.
And for me as a warped minded writer, this gives me a certain advantage over other scribblers out there. Yes, they have fancy educations. Yes, they have big bank accounts. Yes, their daddies know the right people and connections. But no, they do not have a genuine gift as I do. Yes, I am poverty ridden, broke to pockets seams. I failed high school, except for English. This is where I triumph.

I do remember heading to school once; my feet sprawled out on the top deck of the double-decker bus. I was having major headache recently, but I hide it well because I had no one to complain too. I was still a geeky teen in high school. My bus stop was coming up and I stood and shaking I walked down the bus aisle. As I reached the stairs blackness hit my eyes and the next thing I knew I was on my back covered in cuts and bruises and a bus full of people laughing at me. I made a hasty retreat from my embarrassment.

That was the first time I blacked out, this was the onset for something dark coming into focus readying itself to consume me. I at never played truant from school, I always did the right thing, which made me a target for the bullies. I never wanted to be this guy but this is the result of my history that shifted my geography, since then my mathematical problems doubled, tripled and quadrupled and within my science all I am left with is the P.E. I learned that made me run away with a pipe-dream for bad English and dark-side of the human anatomy and biology for my evil fiction homework.
But as my good behaviour shifted into a bad attitude, I felt I gain control of myself, finally. No longer was I a robot stricken by routine. And when my imagination hit me between the eyes, I concocted a devilish plan, use what I have and write everything you can.

Now this is easier said than done; especially when you have no money, no help and no readers. First thing was first, I needed a computer. I needed money for a computer, I needed a job. For a job I needed the right grades, which I didn’t have. Shop work it is (I am still working here by the way.) So now I have my computer, a little money, not a lot but hey, we writers have to start somewhere.
But if it wasn’t for my mental illness, I’m sure I would have given up on my life a long time ago. So now I plod on with my damaged baggage dreaming of something I can only imagine.

But I am sure, as long as I jot down all I can and keep reaching out to people, one day my dreams will come true. I am working on my second novel, which will shock the pants off this world, but I know you will enjoy it.
And I am still blogging short stories and creative writing; from time to time waving my poetic pen across the paper for you too.
So keep reading.

And keep your pens busy.

Psycho for life!! Haha!

Alex