Writing prompt:
 “I am my father’s son,
   I am my father’s mistakes,
   I’m easily undone,
   I am no stranger to rage.” – The Amity Affliction

When I was fifteen my father hit my mother, I never saw it happen but I heard it. I was in my room down the hall I could hear the yelling I could hear the rage; I could almost feel the sound waves coming off my father’s booming voice as he told her again and again, never ending that she was evil that she was worthless.
People often wonder why fifteen year old's are always so angry, The reason is because the world is horrible; and the year you start seeing it is at fifteen. I went to school the day after that happened, the entire day I had to stop my hands from shaking by tapping on the table, every time I tried to write it just turned into scribble so I just tapped, For all seven periods I couldn't think straight all my thoughts were jumbled together so much that it felt like all my thoughts were cramped into a small bubble in a room with nothing but white walls that stretch for miles and if my thoughts break free I’ll just be stuck in the white walls of nothingness.

I made it home at 4:00pm, I dragged my feet from the bus stop to home but as I got to the door my hands started to shake again and I could barely control them they were shaking so bad, I opened the door to see my dad sitting on a chair reading the paper, there was whiskey beside him on the small table. I felt this surge of anger rise up inside me I could feel words trying to make their way out of my mouth, I tried to swallow them but my body was controlling me I couldn't stop what happened next.

“why?” it was barely a whisper and my father didn't look up from the paper he was reading.
“why?” I repeated this time a bit louder, He folded the paper and put It down beside the whiskey
“why what?” a blood vessel was popped in his eye so when he looked at me he looked like a bull ready to charge but I didn't feel fear, I felt rage.
“WHY DID YOU HIT HER?” I screamed at him, my hands still shaking but I clenched my fists so he wouldn't see “WHY DID YOU DRIVE HER AWAY?” this time I had done it, there was a line and I had crossed it. He crossed the room to me in barely a second and grabbed the hair at the back of my head and shoved my head back so I could look at him; the sweat was dripping down his bald head, he smelled like alcohol and anger But I still felt no fear. “I didn’t send her away boy, she wanted to leave so she left” he was lying, she loved him, he hit her.

I spat in his face.

Next minute I was on the floor I had the most horrendous pain on the side of my face, The pain was like a flower blooming from my check bone, it started in the middle and then my entire face was hurting, I felt blood covering my mouth but I wasn’t sure; I had never thought getting punched would hurt this much. I hauled myself up onto my feet with the help of the wall and while his back was turned I swung a punch and aimed for the back of his head, I heard a sickening crack like I had snapped a bone and he was down. Everything was silent.
“dad?” blood dribbled out of my mouth along with drool, I felt the fear now. I felt every bit of it. I knelt down to see if he was alright and I almost puked all the blood that was in my mouth, his eyes were open but nothing was moving, he wasn't breathing.
I sat there not moving for a few minutes but I couldn't cry I couldn't do anything at all but feel the fear of what I did.

With my sweaty hands and my deranged breathing I scrambled for phone in my pocket, my shaky hands dialed a number and I sat there in science.
“hello?” I missed her voice, she only left last night but I missed her already.
“I think I killed dad” my voice was raspy and I didn't sound like myself. I don’t know what happened next but I stared at my father’s dead, unmoving, alcoholic body and I realised.
  I am my father’s son,
  I am my father’s mistakes,
   I’m easily undone,
   I am no stranger to rage

Perception of War.

People don’t see war as we did back in 1912 and 1939, back them we saw it as a game that we could win. Now this may be only my opinion but these days there are three very general ways I see joining the army.
1- you actually wish to serve and help others by representing your country in kindness and defence.

2- High school mixed with your life just really screwed with you and you say “why not? I really can’t see anything going my way any time soon” ( a lot more detailed but this is general)

3- A good way to get a scholarship and special training to get you importance and power in life.

Most know what they’re getting into if they go to the battlefield, someone you know might get wounded, maybe even die. You will see blood, poverty, ill-treatment of people, corrupted children; Nothing actually different than what you’ll see in your own town or city of you look hard enough. A first world country is no better than a third world country, the poverty and corruption is just less subtle and publicized.

Stand by me, monologue

English Monologue.
Teddy Duchamp

Looking back at when I was 12, remembering how I wanted so bad to get into the army, when I thought my dad was my ultimate hero.
I was so stupid and naïve.
I thought kids like Chris and Gordie were the kind of kids that were always somewhere, I thought every kid would be nice enough to pull me off the train tracks when I tricked myself into be invincible, when I really just wanted that train to hit me.
I drifted away from them in middle school, when I saw how well they were doing so I went with it all by myself. Dad ended up leaving me when I got to the end of 10th grade, I haven’t heard from him since; I guess it’s better that way things were beginning to get out of hand at home, he was getting more violent, I’m glad he’s gone now that I think about it going home was hell every night even if he wasn’t there all the time i had a feeling of dread and fear every time I had to face him. I tried to get into the army 3 times, they told me I wasn’t able enough and pretty much told me that I wasn’t wanted or good enough for them so I joined the other batch of guys that weren’t wanted either.

we pretty much got screwed up, we drank as much alcohol as we could, we thought somehow we could forget that we weren't good enough and try and get to the point where we were drunk enough to not feel anything at all.  and ransacked the town. I regret that night now, we ended up robbing some store and getting caught, I felt exactly like my father right then and there, like a complete asshole never thinking about what I’m doing and just being driven by my anger, just like he did to me; I payed for it though; 2 years in jail and now I’m out on parole, now I’m doing what work that comes my way in Castle Rock since no one wants to hire a criminal; I don’t even know what the rest of the boys are doing. Vern probably got married, hell they’re probably all married and have jobs and kids that are going who go to school and get told not to turn out like people like me, the people they see pushing the trollies at supermarkets, when they go home their parents tell them they’re going to end up like those people that live on the streets, people like me; when they don’t want to do their homework.
I know all that is true and I don’t want to be that person anymore, I don’t want to be that person people point and insult or keep calling “that duchamp kid” it degrades me more that I’m used to being degraded.

But who am I kidding, I’m never not going to be that person, I’m going to be that person that people will tell others about but never want to actually talk to because they know that I’m not a ‘normal’ person, I’ve been in jail, I have no job, I’ve had an abusive dad, I found a dead body
to everyone else I am nothing.
to my dad I was nothing
to my friends now I am nothing, but a fragment in their memory
to the public I am absolutely nothing but a nuisance and unwanted.

I don’t even know why it’s taken this long to sink in, It should have hit me when I was 12, I should have been smarter and more observant I shouldn’t have reacted to people talking about my dad I should have missed my mum, I should and shouldn’t have done so many things and maybe I wouldn’t have turned out like I am.
Maybe I wouldn’t hate myself so much.

Absence

As Melbourne has turned from winter into spring the weather has turned into absolutely lovely. Someone once said that there is no such thing as the cold it's just an absence of heat, the same goes for light.
It makes me think that this might be the reason I am at my most happiest and content with the world because the heat has returned and saved me from the freezing winter of wear I was scared to go outside because I knew how cold it was, Now I can't wait.
There Is no dark only an absence of light.
There Is no cold only an absence of heat.

I am.

I am the grass.
I am the trees.
I am fresh.
I am clean.
I am safe.
I am free.
I am unappreciated.
I am the leaves you see.
I am In people's eyes.
I am reassurance.
I am everything that Is okay.
I am creativity. 

People can be like poetry

Sometimes I meet people that are like poetry.

I don't know much about them, they seem to be made out of little bits of string with frayed ends that once held a full untold story.
Like poetry they aren't full sentences explaining the plot, they are bits of sentences that lead to another story.

I have met people like this and I have been told that to other people I can appear like this. I have a friend and together we're like two authors of the same bit of poetry. We know about each other and what we are writing but when we are together people can't seem to understand us and we turn into string with frayed ends because we know so much of one another but no one knows about us.

Maybe there Is hope for the world

Now more than ever everyone in the world around us lives with people who have felt pain weather it be large or small. We have almost the highest amount of people suffering from mental illness such as depression, anxiety and bipolar disorder.

these are illnesses that people suffer and have to struggle with everyday, dealing with the world evolving around you while your world is stuck in a rut of an illness is not easy because so many of the people who are around you will miss interpret what is going on with your personality and blame you for pointless things and call you lazy.

The people taking this everyday are stronger than the Hulk even, I believe when these people suffering from this pain now grow up to be people who are the most kind hearted there could be, there might be hope for the world after all with the people suffering pain now can change the minds of the narrow minded people now and even after us. If one person who has felt immense pain growing up becomes a parent of any kind, the would not want that child to feel the pain they did, making the child another kind hearted person. I believe the teenagers and general people of this generation will grow up to have this effect on the world. Making Hope possible.