i am the black sheep of a family of overachievers. Last year, on thanksgiving, it had been 8 months since i'd seen anyone from my family, I spent half the night in the bathroom blowing lines, everyone was curious as to why i didn't finish my mashed potatoes.

This year, i looked healthy. Supposively happy, trying to turn over a new leaf. I had a network deal, i was in two movies, and got writing credits for a show that aired and flopped. Little did anyone know the only reason i was in town was to pull off a robbery. They wanted to talk hollywood, and show business; ignore reality and recessions. They wanted to hear about my parties with celebrities and etc...i wanted to shoot myself with a shotgun.

I made it through that night thanks to my sister. We played guitars and reminisced. She lives in Brooklyn and struggles to pay rent. We wrote a song called, innocent...

i'm losing it,
can't you tell...

my head on a swivel,
my mind on the trigger,
this feeling i know too well

i'm too innocent

way too innocent

too spend eternity

in hell...


we laughed and fought over the chorus, it would have been a classic if anyone paid attention but us. I was trying my best to forget about the stress. To forget about what lay upon me, what i was getting myself into. I was not, and am not, a criminal. I do not really know why or how i agreed to this, I told myself it would be easy, no one would know, no one would get hurt. It ate at me, my conscience, i couldn't sleep, i couldn't think, i couldn't do anything. I convinced myself i was gong to call P and tell him I was out...but, then he showed up at my door.

01/28/2009

Author's Note: remember, fiction

Posted on 01/29/2009
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