Here we go....... the first chapter to my autobiography.
Chapter 1: The Mysteries of the Name Fryrus Yukon
My name is Fryrus Yukon. Or at least that is name you can refer to me as.
The name of mystery has many consequences, and if I was to say one letter of my true name, a thousand do-gooders would die, and a thousand doers of evil will live. I don't know why, but it's so.
Or you can just call me by the name in which causes no harm whatsoever. Hopefully.
The series of apparitions and voices and spooky images in my mind and in actual life are limitless, and yet, seem so blunt towards me. I live this alone. No one can explain to me how this is so. And, maybe some day, I can.
Yet, not all hope is banished. I have a life of assurance and relevance, and I admire the people's dreams around, as they are with mine. My dreams are dreams of questions to be answered, not answers to be questioned.
I love the world.
I thought no one could hurt it
I thought I couldn't hurt it.
I thought I could live in peace and without question.
I thought wrong.
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I will empathize with myself rarely, and most people fill the void.
I hear voices with no words, and images with no expressions, and people with looks of a dry mask; I live in this manner.
What you will read from here on are stories and explanations and wonderment of my forsaken benevolent past, present, future, and state of mind.
Please, reader, don't disprove my words. I tell these accounts with full integrity and honesty, and I wouldn't betray you. I know this because, I have learned.
Just about every friend in my past, almost every being, almost every star, has deceived and betrayed me.
I am "Fryrus Yukon", and this is my story, which will probably alter your life, forever.
Okay, Unless you're ready for the real emotion, please don't read this. Really.
But fellow gamers, if you ARE ready, then read on! (This is ALL true)
 Chapter 2: Dreaming with a Broken Heart
     I aforementioned my apparitions, yes? I order to know the exact origins of these apparitions, I must foretell my past. It is the only path.
  I have always loved my family. And I always shall. I will also never forget my parent's divorce. I've known this for years and years and years. Even in a another hundred years, I still won't forget.
 After the divorce my inner being was questioned.
 I had to choose between many things. To please my mother? My father? My stepfather? My step mom? I ask these questions every day. I asked these questions again when I was eleven.
 For the individuals who are in touch often with my blog etc. , you probably should know that my step mom acts a bit controlling and condescending. I didn't have too much of a problem with that. Everyone is now and then. Then, a conflict arose.
    I was building an Egyptian Project at the time. I procrastinated. I walked in and out of Michaels, carrying lumber and supplies. In the store, while my father and I were looking, Ashe defiantly marched to the other side, seemingly offended. She didn't talk at all in the car ride home, and I was extremely troubled. So troubled I shivered.
        After the ten minutes of torture, I found myself in Dad's work office, him communicating with Ashe. Ash said she was offended, and at that point, I sent myself out of the room. It was another five minutes of torture. I decided to peak through the kitchen hole that gave a view of the office.
       Big mistake.
    A blow of fist was comprehended, and Father yelled " I KNOW HOW TO TAKE CARE OF MY ******* KID!!" He stormed over Ashe, who was cornering back, crying. I felt like crying. I wished I could stop this, but I knew there was no way I could.
"HE'S MY BUSINESS, NOT YOURS!" He stopped.
 I pulled myself away. I tried to put my hands on my knees to stop them from shaking, But that made me fall to the ground, crying.
 I called Mother and immediately and went home, crying. I cried for so long I was blood shot for 2 1/2 weeks.
Then, as I consoled myself in a bed of a blanket when I was a infant, hugging it, and then, I started dreaming.
Dreaming with a broken heart.
(Thanks for the thread suggestion, C.S and sparky!)
Chapter Three: The Wish of the Granted
          Reader, you want to know exactly what I was dreaming for?
          A friend.
        I had a best friend named Edwin Lopez but he was a rather poor boy. He was full of impulsive temptations that were extremely hard to control. Then, he did the very thing I thought he'd never do to me.
        I found my wallet emptied of just about everything.
      I forgave him, but my heart says I still don't. And to think he still pleads it........
     I wished this for years. and Years and Years. Even through Junior High, where I had almost nothing close to a friend. In Elementary School, Hell no I didn't have a friend. I was bullied and no one cared...
     I waited. And waited. And Waited. and still Waited.
     I heard a knock on my door one winter day, a time where everyone, even I, were happy. I answered the door. it was a black haired woman who was carrying a large brown suitcase.
"Who are you?" the woman asked me. I didn't answered for a full minute.
"I'm the one who should be asking you that same question."
"Didn't your mother tell you? The lady rolled her eyes "I'm moving in."
"What the Hell are you talking about?"
"I'm your cousin Ollie."
"How do I come to believe you, exactly?" I asserted firmly.
"You don't remember... you saw me when you were just a baby."
"Say what?"
"My roommate came under some mental breakdown, and I can't pay the rent. Trish told me I could move in until things got sorted out. Well then... will ya help me wit these bags already?" She tossed her suitcase into my arms.
I looked at her with disbelief as she walked out the door. She turned back.
"Well... aren't ya coming."
I nodded.
"Then let's go already. The moving drivers might already be pissed off."
I followed her into the broad daylight, looked into the blue sky, and murmured, "Merry Christmas."
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