The cold wind kisses my sweat as I lay on my bed with nothing but the worst on my mind, negativity settling in my head like bees in a hive, dealing with depression was getting hard, but life was getting harder. My head rests on the cold pillow that felt like nothing. I felt as if I needed something to distract me from the devil’s horrid lullaby. I attempt to bring myself together and rise off my back, the energy taken from me in that attempt nearly brang me to unconsciousness, but I knew I could do it. I rise up off my mattress in which I once thought would also be my deathbed, I proceed slowly to my table with nothing but a piece of paper and a pencil laying upon it, So still it laid there.
The air freezes my hair and hardens my skin as I stare among the paper and pencil that lies upon the table, in awe a little, I pick up the pencil slowly and begin to write down the words that go in my head, The words may have just looked like the simple markings of the English language, but to me they were more than that, they were emotions stored into a piece of paper, like a bank, for example. A bank of emotions that had no interest, but spread like an infection. I had began to write more and more as I began to get even more creative with my words, one thing I always asked myself “I may be able to execute the words and emotions perfectly on paper, but can I do it in verbal speech?”
1 YEAR LATER
I began to write differently, i cared indifferently of what people thought, i began to get angry at myself in result of depression, i needed an escape, i needed a place to go...i had no friends...But as my parents say "Make your friends."...... I began to not care what people thought of what i wrote, i began to get violent, trashy, dark...horror-like...I began to make a new me, another side of me...And his name would be Xavier Fox...and even today, he influences my writings and has turned me into a known writer i am today, some people even recognize me as Xavier, it was annoying at first, but i'm kinda used to being feared.