I was born in Chicago but was raised around the globe; for the most part I was raised in Boston. I think that's where my mother felt most content. She loved to follow whatever penis was most interested in her at the moment. I managed to grow up and become somewhat of a normal human and a productive member of society. Through high school I spent my time trying to dodge one rumor after another. My mother made a name for herself and for us kids at the high school, sleeping with the principal in his office seem to put a stigma on your children's names.
I played in a band in high school, one with my little brother Elian. I was the drum master but of course it didn’t work out and everyone knows how well that works out.
I moved onto college where I got a degree in Bachelor’s degree in computer science and many certifications relating to my degree.
It’s pathetic that I do this every day for my salary then come home to an empty apartment. Most men my age are married, divorced or gay. I’m the farthest thing from gay but most mistake me for being so. I know I want more out of my life, who is really content in their lives anymore. I drink my problems away at the bars or at home the I come home and slide that little tab on my tongue and wash my worries into a hazy blur as I watch the paint drip from the walls in my comatose state. Then I think about the things in my past and I know that I have screwed up around somewhere. I have a child I don’t see and her mother hate me for this. My family doesn’t even know a thing about me. I keep to myself and seclude myself from their misery. How could they see me as anything better than what I see myself? I’m not much different than I was in high school, except I have less hair and wrinkles have formed in my skin. I pay my child support and my other bills and make my way through the same path week by week.
I work as a Windows Desktop Support Technician in a place that probably only checks half of my work. I don’t know how in the world I could deal with such a place, it makes me drift off into my own world inside my mind I’m something special. I’m someone who has love and money and the warmth of a sexy woman lying next to me at night. Then I realize that when I snap out of it I will not be in this fantasy land but stuck behind that desk. Just like every far fetched fantasy that I run into. Would I have been different if I would have met my father? Would I have created this fantasy world? Or would I actually have this fantasy as a realistic version of my life.
Nothing ever makes sense, another Lander curse. Not one of us could make sense. I guess that’s what you get when you’re entire genetic make up is heavily tainted by mental illness and infidelity