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Lately I’ve been hard to reach, I’ve been too long on my own. Everybody has a private world where they can be alone. Are you calling me, are you trying to get through? Are you reaching out for me, girl, I’m reaching out for you.
I’m just so fucking depressed, I just can’t seem to get out this slump. If I could just get over this hump, but I need somethin’ to pull me out this dump. I took my bruises, took my lumps, fell down, and I got right back up, but I need that spark to get psyched back up in order for me to pick the mic back up. I don’t know how or why or when I ended up this position I’m in, I’m startin’ to feel dissin’ again, so I decided just to pick this pen up and try to make an attempt to vent, but I just can’t admit or come to grips with the fact that I may be done with rap, I need a new outlet. And I know some shits so hard to swallow, but I just can’t sit back and wallow in my own sorrow, but I know one fact; I’ll be one tough act to follow, one tough act to follow, I’ll be one tough act to follow here today, gone tomorrow, but you’d have to walk a thousand miles
in my shoes just to see what it’s like to be me, I’ll be you, lets trade shoes just to see what it’d be like to feel your pain, you feel mine, go inside each others minds just to see what we’d find, look at shit through each others eyes.
But don’t let ‘em say you ain’t beautiful, they can all get fucked, just stay true to you.
So don’t let ‘em say you ain’t beautiful, they can all get fucked, just stay true to you.
I think I’m starting to lose my sense of humor, everything’s so tense and gloom, I almost feel like I gotta check the temperature of the room just as soon as i walk in. It’s like all eyes on me, so I try to avoid any eye contact, cuz if I do that, then it opens the door for conversation, like I want that. I’m not looking for extra attention, I just wanna be just like you, blend in with the rest of the room, maybe just point me to the closest restroom. I don’t need no fucking man servant, tryin’ to follow me around and wipe my ass, laugh at every single joke I crack and half of ‘em ain’t even funny like; “Hahhhhh! Marshall, you’re so funny man, you should be a comedian, god damn!” Unfortunately, I am, I just hide behind the tears of a clown. So why don’t you all sit down, listen to the tale that I’m about to tell, hell we don’t gotta trade our shoes and you ain’t gotta walk no thousand miles
Nobody asked for life to deal us with these bullshit hands we’re dealt, we gotta take these cards ourselves and flip ‘em, don’t expect no help. Now I could’ve either just sat on my ass and pissed and moaned or take this situation in which I’m placed in and get up and get my own. I was never the type of kid to wait by the door and pack his bags and sat on the porch and hoped and prayed for a dad to show up who never did. I just wanted to fit in in every single place, every school I went, I dreamed of being that cool kid even if it meant acting stupid. Aunt Edna always told me keep making that face, it’ll get stuck like that, meanwhile I’m just standing there holding my tongue trynwa twalk like dwis. Till I stuck my tongue on that frozen stop sign pole at 8 years old, I learned my lesson then cuz I wasn’t trying to impress my friends no more. But I already told you my whole life story, not just based on my description. Cuz where you see it from where you’re sittin’, it’s probably 110% different. I guess we would have to walk a mile in each others shoes at least, what size you wear? I wear tens, lets see if you can fit your feet
Yeah, to my babies; Stay strong, Dad’ll be home soon. And to the rest of the world, god gave you them shoes to fit you, so put ‘em on and wear ‘em. Be yourself man, be proud of who you are. And even if it sounds corny, don’t ever let anyone tell you you ain’t beautiful.
-Eminem/Beautiful

So I’ve always wanted to write about times in my past, the good and the bad old history. Before my writing days, before livejournal, before all of that. I guess I’d have a lot to say in all types of subjects and experiences. For now, I wanna take a walk back to a particular class/room in high school. Waianae High School, Hawaii, Oahu.

I don’t recall what year it was exactly, freshman or sophomore year since I only put in 2 years of high school of which I flunked the first year of high school…but for some reason they stuck me in all sophomore classes, it never made any sense to me. Anyway, this particular class was a math class. It was thee lowest math class you could attend to in this high school. Why? Well I won’t lie, I never particularly was fond of math at all–not because I find it to be hard or anything, but beyond the basics, it’s just pointless to me. I can honestly say I have no idea how to do algebra at all, and I don’t care either. However, during those times, since I had failed the first year of high school, I wasn’t making any sorta effort to be good in anything during that time, my report card read like this; F, F, F, F, B, F, practically. B? Art. So anyway, this class was probably thee most entertaining class I have ever had, and this is why, story time;

When the class first started, it wasn’t hard to see just who everyone was for the most part. Most kids you’d already recognize or known–a bunch of flunkies, a bunch of nobodies, a bunch of drop outs, a bunch of misfits, a bunch of fuck up’s, a bunch of retards. My long time and good friend Wil was also in this class, he and I sat in the back for the most part and just read magazines about games, talked about games, and just plain old talk, and of course, just waiting for something to entertain us. Our teacher was an elderly woman…and get this, she wasn’t even a math teacher, she was a Spanish teacher (school couldn’t afford it or no one was up to the task.) She had the whole Spanish thing going and everything. She taught 5 classes of Spanish, and 1 more on this retard worthy math, the last class of the day. Her name was Correa, Misses Correa, we called her. I’d say for the first week to a month did anyone actually do work and “try” in that class. My twin sister Julie had her for Spanish, I forgot which period of the day, and she’d often know or be aware of the monsters in our class–she was friends with some of ‘em. As more time went on within this class, pretty much no one was doing work anymore, there was no order or respect in this class at all–it was like a mix between a war zone and playground. As months went on, more and more kids starting disappearing as well, I presume they dropped out or just stopped coming to the class altogether since it was such a waste of a time and such a joke. Also throughout the months, kids would walk in and out of class as they pleased, including myself.

There was this one kid, Atui, man oh man Atui, that kid was fucking hilarious and disgusting at the same time, so much fucked up shit this kid did, and here it is. Jesus, where to start with this one. As Wil and I recall, one day, Atui was being himself, he was sitting near the window at a table, obviously bored, he then began to grab the math books. One by one, he’d open up each individual book on a random page, and would spit in it. I’m not talking normal mouth spit either, but sucking in deep for that good old gross stuff. Wil and I just sat there, entertained, fucked up, funny, disgusting, until he finished every book and put them all back where he got them. Unbelievable. Where was the teacher? Throughout these events, the teacher was either out of the class room or she was sitting in her seat up front chatting with pet students or being purposely distracted. It’s as if she was plain old oblivious, or too old, to see and hear the horrors that was happening so close to her within that class room.
Another fond memory involving Atui, on another day, or uhh, I should say a lot of days, also including a lot more of the kids on this one of whom I don’t even really recall. Kelly, Dean, Jose, and others all come to mind. Anyway, they’d all take part in fucking up the Spanish kids projects that they apparently worked very hard on. The Spanish kids would decorate the class with Spanish art and what not, or stuff would be left there to be graded, and our class would always fuck it up. I recall Atui walking around with a pocket knife, just stabbing and slicing up projects on the walls, just shattered art, and he loved it very much so.
Another time, Atui and someone else, I’d wanna say it was this kid Dean, and I don’t know how they got away with this, but one of them was placing these Pinata projects of kids from previous classes on his toe like a football, while another kid would run and punt it right out the door way outside. It was pretty loud too, and Misses Correa would catch it by briefly hearing it and ask what was that, and no one would say shit and it would just keep continuing. It’s fucked up for me to say, but Wil and I would crack the fuck up, it was so destructively hilarious.

Yet another time, the free candy and soda day as we know it. I don’t know WHY the teacher would announce such a thing in a criminal infested class, but she calls out “OK EVERYONE, I’M GONNA GO TO THE OFFICE NOW, NO ONE COME OVER HERE BY MY DESK AND TOUCH THESE SODA’S AND CANDIES NOW YOU HEAR?” no one really pays her any attention, but they heard her clearly. The second she’s out the door, Soda’s are being handed around and passed down the line to everyone in the class. Atui stole boxes of airheads that he gave out to some people for days. Yet another fucking hilarious moment. The teacher comes back and yeah, suddenly everyone has a Soda, and she has no clue and doesn’t care to question anything or even bother to check her things to see if they were still there or not.

Jose, Jose, such a troubled kid, Jose. I recall once in particular of him setting a trap by going into the teachers cabinet where she kept cooking ingredients and other things for her Spanish class. He a took a knife and slit open the bottom parts of bags of flour and left ‘em like that, so whoever grabbed it or moved it the next time, well, it’d be all over the place. Jose was one of the kids who later disappeared, no one really knew what happened to him–supposedly he ran away from home and quit school.

Another kid, Dean, I recall him being a big/fat misfit type of guy. I dunno what the conflict was with him and this other surfer kid named Kelly was, but they had some sorta beef later on in the year. A fight broke out in the middle of class, those retarded chair table desk things being shoved and pushed all over the place, all sorta kids started jumping in and kicking the shit out of that Dean kid, it was fucking crazy. I mean, apparently a lot of these kids didn’t like this kid but never showed it, so that’s what made it hilarious. Not too sure if Dean was removed from the class, expelled, or just dropped out, but he never showed up again. Kelly was coming to class for a while but also eventually disappeared.

From time to time, Atui and others would quietly play a game of chess. They had pieces, but someone tore up the board, so they used a cardboard piece that they drew the chess board on to. In hopes of controlling the kids, Misses Correa tried to break deals with the kids. If they just be quiet and be nice and sit down and play chess, she would pass them. I fucking kid you not, that’s what she was doing, hahaha. The class was so bad, that she even made some sorta deal with the higher up’s that we all could, the entire class, could pass the class with a D if we participated in helping the ALC (alternative learning center, AKA assholes last chance. These are the really dysfunctional fucked up kids who have like their own little group, their own school, their own teachers. It’s a type of program within the school.) kids build a fucking cement sidewalk in a particular area. She walked the whole class there to meet us up with the rest of the flunkies and to show us, and then all back to the class we went to decide if that’s what we wanted to do. Welp, no one wanted to do it, go figure, so that never happened.

I recall Misses Correa doing her pointless roll call, and looking directly at Wil and calling out his name, he’s even saying “here” and raising his hand and everything, and if I’m not mistaken, someone noticed what was happening and was laughing and told her he wasn’t there and she just sided with ‘em and goes on with “Wilton ain’t here” and marks him absent, fucking hilarious, he had to angrily shout to get her attention.

I also recall Misses Correa asking the class who’s paper was turned in because it didn’t have a name on it, then she claimed it was a B paper and someone who didn’t even do that, I can’t quite recall who it was, I wanna say Wil or someone else claimed it, and she bought it and gave them the points for it, good shit.

That’s all I can recall from this class, needless to say, I believe I failed the class, haha, good times.

I was born with a dick in my brain, yeah, fucked in the head. My step father said that I sucked in the bed, till one night he snuck in and said;
“We’re going out back, I want my dick sucked in the shed.”
“Can’t we just play with Teddy Ruxpin instead?”
“After I fuck you in the butt, get some head, bust a nut, get some rest.”
The next day my mother said;
“I don’t know what the fuck’s up with this kid, the bastard won’t even eat nothin’, he’s fed. He just hung himself in the bedroom, he’s dead.”
“Debbie, don’t let that fucker get you upset, go in there, stick a fuckin’ cigarette to his neck. I’ll bet you he’s faking it, I’ll bet you, I bet he probably just wants to see how upset you would get. I’ll go handle this, of course unless you object?”
“Ah, go fuck his brains out if any’s left in his head.”

[Chorus]
If you could count the skeletons in my closet, under my bed and up under my faucet. Then you would know I completely lost it. Is he nuts? No, he’s insane!
You could count the skeletons in my closet, under my bed and up under my faucet. Then you would know I completely lost it. Is he nuts? No, he’s insane!

“Did you get him?”
Nah, fucker tried to bite my face off, I just got fuckin’ chased off with a chainsaw, then he took the chainsaw, bit the fuckin’ blades off, ate the blades, stuck a baseball in a slingshot, then he aimed at his own face, let the thing pop, took his eye out, picked it up and played ping pong. Then he played ping pong with his own ding dong, that mother fucker’s got nuts like King Kong. Then he set the lawn mower out on the dang lawn and he laid all up underneath it with the thing on, then he took his pants, he took every fuckin’ thing off, everything ‘cept his tank top and his training bra. Ain’t he raw? Yeah, maniac, that’s Shady dawg, man, that mother fucker’s gangsta, ain’t he dog? Shady, dawg, what be goin’ through that fuckin’ brain of yours? Say no more, what the fuck you be waitin’ for? Sing along.

[Chorus]

“Don’t you know what felch means?”
“Yeah?”
Well then tell me, Would you rather get felched or do the felching? Fuck ‘em in the ass, suck the cum out while you’re belching, burp, belch, and go back for a second helping. Can you dig what I’m saying, man, can you smell me? I want you to feel me like my step father felt me. Fuck a little puppet, kick the puppy while he’s yelping.
“Shady, what the fuck you sayin’?”
I don’t know, help me! What the fuck’s happening? I think I’m fucking melting.
“Marshall, I just love you boy, I care about your well being.”
“No dad, I said no, I don’t need no help peeing, I’m a big boy, I can do it by myself, see? I only get naked when the babysitter tells me, she showed me a movie like “Nightmare on Elm’s Street” but it was X and they called it “Pubic Hair on Chelsea.”
“Well this is called ass rape and we’re shooting the jail scene.”

[Chorus]

-Eminem/Insane

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