We’ve all heard the stories: A young man finds something beyond his comprehension and embarks on a journey that will forever change the shape of the world. I’d love to say that that is my story but, sadly, reality loves to sucker punch those who believe they can achieve something. Sadly, my story is one of a stupid man who made a stupid mistake. A mistake that would ultimately lead to… well, there’s no point if I tell you right away; is there?

I leave this book behind with the help of an old friend of mine to make sure no one makes the same mistakes I made. I guess, we could call this a reminder that gifts are to be cherished and used with utmost care. But I digress… As many good, turbulent stories, mine has a very normal beginning.

I woke up at midday. A normal day. And even though the day had just started, it had already given me a reason to hate every living hell of a second it could provide. I had been woken by the very familiar sound of my dad yelling at my sister. Something about sports. I thought to myself. I was so used to hearing my dad yelling at my younger sister about her shortcomings in a sport that she mistakenly chose to be her passion, that my ears were almost completely numb to the words and jargon they used. As expected, my sister ended up slowly walking back to her room wiping tears of frustration as I slowly made my way into the hall and finally into the dining room.

“Glad, to see you decided to join the world of the living, lazy brat.” The words of my dad were, once again, a loud traffic jam in the middle of the calm suburbs. Very accustomed to the usual ritual of waking up and being insulted I offered a short smile, forcing myself to make it look as honest as possible. The silence that followed seemed to confirm the success in my acting as I sat down on the dinning table. The few seconds of peace were quickly murdered by the disgusting sound of my dad slurping a spoonful of soup. “Soup.” I said  with the slightest of sighs. I panicked almost immediately and looked up to my dad to see if he had heard what I had just said or, to be accurate, the tone in which I had said it. - “Yeah. And it’s really good. You better eat your damn veggies, boy.” - Safe… - “And take that fucking hat off when you’re at the table. Did you sleep with that shit on?” - The man audibly slurping his soup a, spoonful at a time, wearing nothing more raggedy old boxers had spoken and an order was an order. “No, sir.” Short answers, no confrontation. That was how things flowed best with him. Most of the time, anyway. “When you’re done, take a shower. We’re going to Angel’s Creek Park.”

Angel’s Creek Park. A natural recreation center in the middle of nowhere. We would usually go there at least once a year and mostly to celebrate my grandad’s birthday. The previous year my dad got so drunk, he made three of my aunts cry through sheer words. A new record by my account.