Tonight a fifteen year-old boy threw up all over himself while sleeping, neglecting to wake up.
After 3 hours of marinating in his own souped-bolus this boy was awaken by his mother and forced to take a shower and wash the spew from his face, body and hair.
I don't know where I went right. Honest. I don't know how I managed to reach the point of my being that I can act and think in the ways that I do now.
I've never been that boy. I've never thought of that boy possessing any sort of allure. For a whole long time, I've been convinced that I'm something less then I should be. People don't treat me like they treat others and it confuses me most times.
The way people are treated by other people confuses me more than anything else. People have these rationalizations and classifications with which they determine, or pose, in order to place others in a category that indicates what type of treatment one will receive - Family, Friend, Foe and Unknown. I don't know what constitutes a family member, but I don't see much signs for a universal gradient. I'm running around with my face crunched up and confused to all hell.
Bollix.
