I'm just this guy, you know?
To expand on that, I am also the following...
- A former ficly member who is 38 years old and is schizoaffective (depressive type)
- Into creating languages and fantasy worlds from scratch
- A listener of audiobooks & good tunes
- Always too hard on myself
The leaves reminded me of fall and fall reminded me of those homecoming football games.
Not just the football games, which don't get me wrong, I loved, but playing in the marching band was an amazing bout of camaraderie among all the instrument playing members of the high school, but somehow it rivaled those playing on the actual football field as well.
Our stands didn't fill up with football fans, they filled up with marching band supporters.
I don't know how the football players felt, but then again, who cared? Everyone in the school knew where there bread was buttered and that was with the people on the field playing the instruments and marching back and forth making formations here and there.
It wasn't just the field for us though. It was those post-football game dances that the high school would throw in the gym as an excuse for young romances to blossom.
I had always hoped that I would be a part of one of those blossoms. To fall in love in that dark gymnasium.
I hoped and waited for the moment.
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
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- Published 4 years ago.
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