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Rated: E · Draft · Family · #2208014
Short Story 1
I haven't been as honest as I've led you to believe. Maybe that's why so many things are going wrong today. It isn't like I can say "life got away from me" or "I ran out of time". Most days I have way too much time on my hands, and should have so many different projects completed.

Sure, I have after effects from health issues that set me back a few years--but after that should be different. Going back to school has been in the back of my mind for a while--the very back--but I just don't think I'll be comfortable in school again.

To be particularly honest, I've been ignoring the need for certain things in my life. I keep using my limitations as an excuse for not doing something. For one thing, I'm rather forgetful. I can't say now, because my forgetfulness has always been a part of my life.

But since I was eighteen, it's a secondary effect and is quite a bit worse than it used to be. I often change floors of a building and forget why on the way there. Meaning I have to go back and perhaps return to what occupied me before to perhaps bring back the memory. Most times it works. Sometimes it doesn't.

I don't remember any specific date or time, but I've gone up to the kitchen from the basement wanting to ask my mom or dad something, only to reach the upper floor and have almost no clue why I went in the first place.

This, of course, means causing my parents to sometimes question my memory. And even, at times, my very sanity. My forgetfulness can also often put me in a difficult position. When I forget being somewhere or doing something is necessary--like, say, a chore--it makes people angry. Or, at the very least upset.

The reason for my extreme [forgetfulness] is, to put it simply, a bit complicated. When I was just eighteen I had a TBI. A /Trauma Brain Injury/, to put it simply. Let me explain a little bit.

Doctors know far more about TBIs than even I do. But I know more about certain parts of it than others. So now it's my turn to "educate" on the subject. Lol. I'll admit it's not always the easiest topic to discuss, but I actually don't mind that much because of what it means in the end.

Now I'll be the first to admit that I'm not perfect. Not even close. I'm one hundred percent human. So my body is imperfect - to the hilt. My memory is [fallible] - as it has been proven to be over the years. My vision is faulty, and my hearing isn't the best. My parents sometimes accuse me of having "selective hearing" because I do sometimes choose what to hear or not. Not often, though.


My relationship with my two brothers is a difficult one to understand. In all honesty, even I don't always get why it is the way it is. I only have the two younger siblings, neither of whom I treated with one hundred percent love and respect growing up.

While my not being perfect has something to do with that, I think it also has to do with my not trying enough. I'm kind of a loner, you see. I used to read all the time - even late into the night. I read quite a bit less than I used to, and that could be thought of as "failure" on my part. Technology has threatened to destroy several of the better parts of life. Who are we to say reading shouldn't be a part of daily life?

Paperback books are something I'm seeing less and less of. I have quite a few novels in my library, as well as a number of biblical-based tomes. I also have several hardback [books]. For some reason I do my best to obtain the other before I even consider those. Maybe because they are a bit lighter or something.

Okay. Now where was I? Oh yes, I'm explaining part of why I'm not perfect. No one is, in fact. Every person on the planet has done something that can be called "sin". That's what makes a person do the wrong thing.

Have you ever cheated on a test in school? How about lied to your parents about something? Maybe you've taken something that wasn't yours. There are several "subcategories" for want of a better word
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