Alex I. Rogers - Im Only Human After All

Copyright 2011 Alex I. Rogers

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1461051916

ISBN-13: 9781461051916

E-Book ISBN: 978-1-4392-8333-2

CONTENTS

T HIS BOOK IS THE FIRST in a series of three coming-of-age books that are based on my life. Im Only Human After All is the story of my early adolescent life and the issues that all of us can relate to at that stage in our lives. At some time we have all been in an awkward stage until, one day, we surface as something more. We were all once awkward kids trying to find our way. This is just the prologue of how I found my way into adulthood. I feel that the events described in this book are relatable to all of us, in one way or another, at some point in our lives. In this book I expose and deal with a large number of issues, such as finding my identity, dealing with sibling rivalry, realizing my self-worth, trust, betrayal, acceptance, bullying, and much more. If I could label a central theme of this work, I would identify it as bullying. Most of this story follows my personal experiences with both bullying and cyber-bullying and their effects on me. Just for the record, I would like to state that bullying in any shape or form is wrong, and everyone should be treated with equal respect. In my life I have come to understand that all people should be treated as equal, and if we are to move positively in any emotion, it should be in love.

My ultimate goal for this series is that when people read it, they can learn and grow from it. While I briefly gave you a small outline of the story regarding themes, hidden truths are scattered all throughout this book. I hope that after reading this book you part with something that you didnt have before, something that will stay with you and grow into something more.

Happy reading,

ALEX I. ROGERS

M Y ALARM RANG. Even in a dream state, I knew what that meant. It meant that it was seven oclock sharp. I swatted at the alarm out of desperation for it to stop ringing, but it was no use. I had to get up. It was Tuesday morning, and my obligation as a minor was to get ready for school. As I brought myself to face the day, I stumbled though a swamp of dirty laundry that was left on my floor from days past. I literally had to high step through it all to get to the other side of the room. Traversing through the field of dirty laundry, I stumbled upon the treasure I had been searching for all along; a green shirt and ruffled khakis were lying between my feet. It was my uniform for school that Id had on the day before. I bent over and smelled themnothing odd lashed out at me, so I deemed them good to go.

I got dressed in a hurry. I always did. After putting the finishing touches on my uniform, I glanced at the clock. It was only seven fifteen, and I was fully dressed, sans the non-essentials. I skipped out on brushing my teeth and combing my hair. Dad would be furious if he saw me like this, but it wasnt like I was trying to impress anybody or anythingbesides, school started at eight. I was going to be late if I took time to do the little things. It wasnt going to kill me if I had nappy hair for a day. I had to leave now if I wanted to make it on time. As I heard the thunder outside the house, I realized that it would take even more time to get where I needed to be. Just by the silence of the house, I could tell the others had already left. This was a bad omen. You see, on an average day, I was the first one out of the house besides Dad.

With this in mind, I grabbed a piece of toast and stuck it in my mouth as I rushed out of the house. It wasnt long before I spat it out. Just that quick I had forgotten it was rainingI didnt know how Id forgotten, though. Mom told me at least a thousand times since Sunday that the forecast was scattered thunderstorms for the whole week. This was an awful way to remember; weather is so crazy in Louisiana.

By the time I was halfway down the block, my saturated clothes were already beginning to weigh me down; by the time I was at the school grounds, I was barely able to move. The cars seemed to be doing just fine though. They were all lined up near the entrance of the school. It was the drop-off line.

For some reason the sight struck me differently today. All of those people in their cars had their own story to tell. Its common sense, but a lot of people dont pick up on itwell, its better to say that a lot of people choose to ignore it. Somehow, though, in the process of life, we get the notion that were not important, that were irrelevant to the big picture. If I were to ask anyone in those cars, What are your hopes, your dreams, your ambitions? would they be able to answer? Too many people just go through life going through the motionsYoure not alive if youve never done anything worth sharing. Youve never lived if you never fought for something you believed in. So many people die with their dreams in their hands and it scares me. But why?

In my younger days, I tried to listen to those whose song had enticed me, but those were usually the ones who were shunned by the rest. I remember my first best friend, Ross. My mom always said he was off , but I didnt notice. Maybe it was because I was quite off myself; I was only eight at the time. Ross and I would fantasize about cartoons and video games throughout most of our second-grade lives. We talked about it so much that we even decided to make up our own. Even at a young age, we put countless hours into making our dream a reality. Its amazing that we even passed the second grade.

By the end of the school year, we even had a full script. I didnt realize it at the time, but we had done a powerful thing. Wed done something at a young age that many, even in their latter years, have never set out to do. We followed our dream and did exactly what we wanted to do. And we were proudwe had reason to be. The feelings must have been equivalent to how God felt when he created the Heavens and the Earth. I remember feeling the finished product in my hands, and all I could think of was, It was good, and it was perfect in my sight. It was made in my image, crafted by the master for my own purpose. I thought of it as my masterpiece and bragged about it whenever a situation arose that allowed me to talk about itand even sometimes when it didnt. Creation is a powerful thing; the ability to create what you desire is only limited by what you can think of. That was what I took from it; Ross, on the other hand, took things a little bit too far.

Legend of Kajaita was the name of the game, which had twenty-four characters. I dont remember them all, but Im pretty sure thats the number. When Ross and I finished the game script, we took two different roads. While I was content with my accomplishments, Ross was becoming more and more obsessed with his. While we both controlled the characters, he took a special liking toward the ones that he had priority over. For whole school days, he would act out his characters and religiously quote lines from the script, and that drew attentionand Im not talking about the good kind. Because of his new-found adoration, the kids began to shun him, while I continued to progress socially.