[ WP ] You are 18 years old , and you 're writing your autobiography for your entire life . Write only page 147 .

I sat behind the screen of my computer again. Where had I gone wrong... or was it others, did my parents raise me wrong and fuck me up? The thoughts raced through my head faster than speeding bullets. An interesting simile, that. 
 
 My dream of becoming a computer programmer had been squashed before my eyes just a few days ago. No college would take me, with as lazy as I am. I did good in school, when I did the work. Which was... sporadic, at best. Maybe school is what messed me up, made me the way I am. Was it the system, or my peers? Assholes, they never did see. 
 
 The thoughts sped through my mind. 
 
 I guess I should try my hand at something. For now, I'll continue my work as a cart pusher at our local WalMart. I think WalMart is all that's left now in this podunk town. Ah, they have served me poorly. Maybe it's time for them to see. 
 
 No, no. Maybe a trade. I still had enough knowledge to become IT for some small business, right? Helpdesk support alongside a billion Indians. 
 
 The thoughts, they're still there. 
 
 I glanced up at my screen one last time. It was blank. Could n't get this damned thing to turn on. 
 
 I looked on the desk next to me, seeing the glint of metal. 
 
 Oh, that's what I came home to do. 
 
 The thoughts raced through my mind like bullets. Or, I guess like bullets. Soon I shall know. 
 
 # NOTES 
 *Critique is very welcome and greatly desired. * 
 

