A Million Little Pieces - James Frey [188]
As I write the wrongs of my early childhood, most of them make me laugh. They were stupid, the actions of a kid who didn’t know any better, or who didn’t give a fuck if he did know better. I write four pages of them. Things I did. They make me laugh.
I start writing again from the age of ten. The age when I started to lose control. Thinking back it seems like maybe I didn’t do the things I did, that someone else did them and I just watched. I wish it were so. I started to lose control at ten.
Snuck out of the house and got drunk. Stole liquor from my Parents more times than I can count or remember. Stole a stack of porn magazines from my neighbor’s garage. Caused a traffic accident by egging a random car. I watched the aftermath from the top of a tree. No one was hurt, though there was bent steel. Got caught mooning the Principal of my School on a Friday night while I was supposed to be in my bed. Was dragged home by the Principal while my Parents were having a dinner party. I ruined the party and humiliated my Parents. I stole a bag of pot from my friend Sean’s Father. I stole a pipe from Sean’s Father. I stole a bottle of pills from Sean’s Father. I smoked the pot in the pipe and took all of the pills. They made me vomit. I did it again the next time I was at Sean’s House.
Three more pages. Filled with stolen chemicals and stupid pranks. Sometimes I got caught, most of the time I didn’t. At twelve the memories start to lose themselves in the haze of liquor and drugs. At twelve my life was blurred.
Attacked a kid in a hockey game. He wasn’t looking and I blindsided him. I knocked him out and I stood over him and I laughed. I filled a Teacher’s mailbox with bags of dog shit every night for three weeks. I lit a Boy Scout Leader’s tent on fire while on a camping trip. I got thrown out of the Troop. I filled the gas tank of a neighbor’s car with sugar and wrecked his engine. I stole liquor and drugs from wherever I could find them whenever I was near them.
Five pages covering three years. Hurt People who didn’t deserve to be hurt. Hurt People who did deserve it. Started to contemplate death, started to realize I was fucked, started to hate myself. I did what I did because I hated myself.
At fourteen I stole a moped and pushed it off a cliff. I took a sledgehammer to a sculpture in a neighbor’s lawn. I blew up a mailbox two mailboxes four mailboxes ten. I learned the strength of words and I used them. I called a girl a fat wench. I told a pregnant Teacher I hoped her Child was born dead. I asked a Doctor’s Wife if she knew her Husband was having an affair. She had been mean to my Mother and I didn’t want to let this woman get away with that. Her Husband was having an affair. The Marriage fell apart.
At fifteen I sold drugs to Kids. I sold them alcohol. They were my age, but they were still Kids. Most of the time I ripped them off, took too much of their money or sold them oregano. Sometimes I pissed in the bottles before I gave them the bottles. I destroyed a drive-in sign at a local fast-food Restaurant. I took a hammer to it in the middle of the night because the Manager had kicked me out of the place while I was drunk. I snuck out of my House. I snuck out the Car. I got drunk and I did drugs. All the time.
Sixteen and seventeen and eighteen take up five pages. More of the same. Drinking and drugs. Sneaking out and vandalizing. Saying things to hurt People if they hurt me or hurt someone around me. I trashed the yard of a local Christian Youth Group Leader when he tried to recruit me. I trashed it every Friday night for eight straight weeks. I stole the mail of a