Friday, January 2, 2009
There was a man with an intention to become a famous writer, and his hopes, his dreams, everything he could ever imagined came true. He wrote in his blackberry and lab top, along side of his coffee in the morning, or the night. He wrote about day to day basics that are far more complex then we can understand. He thought about how it would be if people around the world could actually hear his voice. Surely, they did. He was sitting at a local Starbucks when a older, corporate man came up to him and asked to read what he was writing. And so, his first book finally got published. It sold throughout stores, Barns & Nobles, etc. In the blink of an eye his life had gone from dreaming to dreaming out loud. Well he had never married. He didn't really want kids. He felt he was too busy with his career. One day he met a women in a pharmacy. He goes to get sleeping pills, always suffered from insomnia. The women was tall, lean, a brunette with exquisite green eyes, very stunning. She made the first move. They did something he said he would never, get married and have two kids. I guess someone can change your mind about the finer things in life. Everything, even things he never use to want, had been going great. So one cold night, he opens his lab top and starts to write. His writing flows through the screen smoothly until..his chest starts to swell. The writing stops. He's stuck on what to write next. The next night he tries again, and nothing comes to mind. The next morning he tries again and nothing comes to mind. He went to the doctor to get advice and check his chest. He finds out he has a disease. He comes home to tell his wife the bad news. He opens his bedroom door and finds his wife on top of another man. She turns, shocked to see her husband and says "oh honey What are you doing here, your not suppose to be home for another hour!" "Its not what it looks like!" He says nothing, and walks out. They file for divorce. He gets custody of the children. But, his books haven't been selling and he starts to worry about money. He can no longer provide for himself and the two children. The kids miss their mother. He knows what he has to do. He takes them back to her. He walks home realizing he is now alone, again. He goes to the pharmacy, this time not for just sleeping pills. He walks out the pharmacy, and his car gets a ticket. He can't pay for it. No one showed up to his first book signing. He use to know a guy who sold a lot of drugs. He went to him, asked him what would make him feel better. He went home and snorted as much as he could. A year passed. He went home and he dragged himself on his floor and for the first time since he was ten, he cried. He cried so much. He had everything and now nothing. And no one knows the name of this man anymore. He opens his lab top and starts to write. This time he has something to write about... his life. It took two more years to write about the pity he feels for himself. When he sits on the train he looks at the people and they all seem so blank. They look at him like he's a monster. He went to his publicist. The publicist read about his life. It became his second book. The publicist offered him help. So, he went to rehab. A year later his publicist payed him a visit. "How are you doing?" "I feel like myself again." "Good. I spoke to your ex wife, she wants to have joint custody if your better when you get out of here." "I also wanted to let you know that when you get out of here things will be different for you. Your book is doing great. People really admire your determination to let them into your life. Your a wealthy man." He stood in the facility and he felt the air surround him. He felt again what it means to breath. He didn't care about the money, he just wanted to see his kids again. He just wanted to see sunlight. Later, he got out of rehab. He took steps outside and felt like a newborn child, except now he had the knowledge of the horrible and amazing things that could happen to humans. His chest stopped hurting so much. He went to his doctor. He found out his disease was gone. He went home and for the first time since he was ten, slept the whole night through. A couple of months later he sat on the train on his way to pick up his children and all the people smiled at him, like he was normal. A teenager was reading his second book, called "Writers Block." She looked up at him. " wow, are you Johnny Brooks?" Now some body knows his name.