The Life Of Fatty

Introduction:

Ive never done a drug in my life, and yet almost every so often my life seems as if im on them.
Just one big cloud of fog that blocks my preception between mind and reality.
Thoughts in the back of my head that tell me things that arent true.
"You're gonna die in your sleep," "You're gonna hurt someone," "You're Gay."
They float in my head and control my body and they can't be ridded of in just a minute.
They last usually for days.
For Weeks.
Even months.
It's fucking horrible.
Yet all of these things do not make up my whole life, they're only things that happened because of my life.
Why haven't I lost my mind and killed myself yet? One simple thing.
Life is too beautiful to die now.
Why am I like this?
I have hypercondria and severe anxiety.
I'm pretty sure theres alot of other things that are wrong with me I just haven't found the right research to
declare it so.

I'm a musician.
Independent & trying to get myself out there.
One of the things in my life to live for.
A goal that I have set to keep my mind focused on positive things.
A dream I've had since five years old.
But why?
Why do I have this talent?
A few generations of Goin blood runs through my veins like a steel train running off the tracks.
My mom's side of the family has alot of musical prowece.
Great Grandpa Goin played guitar.
My Great Grandma Mary Goin was a recording musician who sang just like Patsy Cline.
My Great Uncle Jesse Goin plays guitar and is a talented writer.
My Uncle Jered Long plays guitar and sings.
Next in Line was me...

What is so important about me?
I sing and play guitar, I record my own music and I've played several gigs.
But why is that worth writing about?
Well it's nothing really now, but maybe someday when I'm out there and known people can go back and look at how
my life was before my life as a musician.

Chapter One:

I hate my life sometimes.
Not because of things I've said or done, cos those things aren't so important to me really.
Unless it truly hurts someone.
But if all else, then not really.
No, I hate my life cos' of the things that have happened.
Because of these thoughts in my head.
Because I just have this emptiness inside of me everytime I'm depressed that it makes me wanna die.
But why die when theres soo much to live for?
Cos' we're only born to die.
But if we're only born to die doesnt that give us a reason to live it up?
True but heres the deal...
People who's philosophy is just that are the people who smoke pot and drink all the time.
The limelighters.
The Guidos and guidettes.
Jocks and Preps
Punk Rockers.
Metal Heads.
Hippies.
The whole fucking catalog of people.
They all go by that philosophy and they only end up one place.
Dead faster and at younger ages.
Tell me that that's not true?