Victims Of A Crime

To say that I was so deranged as to be certifiably insane was an understatement. My parents had dragged me to various doctors and put me through hours of behavioral therapy, but none of them ever got it; I was crazy because it was what made me happy. I loved spiking my hair to the heavens and bouncing around the hills all break, terrorizing my fellow students. I loved dressing like a fucking Wizard and playing "Weirdo Music" in a band with my best friend. None of that was because I was "Acting out" or suffering from some kind of behavioral disorder.

"You'd be so successful if you just pulled your head in, James."
"You're smart James, don't sell yourself short."
"You're bright James, you're wasting your potential."

James this, James that.

I didn't even like that fucking name. I answered only to Rathead, or Jimmy - though so very few ever adhered to my requests to be called so.

Don't get me wrong, I knew I was gifted. Somehow, despite my atrocious behavior, I remained at the top of all my classes and showed signs of a promising future. All that looks great on paper, and sounds great if you're keen on a nine to five, suit and tie, office job. - But that wasn't my life plan.

I remained at the top of my classes to keep my teachers off my case and my parents off my back. Well, as much as one could being "A smart-mouthed delinquent with a bad attitude". As soon as High School was done and dusted, I was going to cover my skin with much ink as possible, so that nobody would hire me, and carve my own path in life...

Notes

Okay, look. This is a sort-of cliche story that I randomly had the idea for the other day. It's my attempt at writing something a little bit special just for the Halloween season.

So like, comment, subscribe, and enjoy this little tale?

Until Next Time!! xx