I Gotta Not Be Me

… Sometimes I swirl too long in the whirlpool of despair when the thing I thought everybody thought was as horrible for them as it was for me. After a few days/weeks/months, only then do I wonder, Did I even need to be in the damn whirlpool. The story of my every day.

Ugh! Why must I put so much weight on what people say? It’s exhausting and frustrating and then I feel like an idiot when it’s all over because I gave too much of my energy to this thing and everyone else likely went about their business with no worries.

I gotta be me I guess. But this part of me sucks humongous ass! Moving on.


With a school teacher mother and blacksmith father; he was the eldest of three children. The family occupied two rooms in a tenement building, but dad was rarely home because he spent his time and money on booze and women – or women and booze. To hell with food for the fam.

The boy was untamable and eventually, his parents shipped him off to a religious commune, where they couldn’t get a handle on him either. The boy constantly assaulted teachers and students via fisticuffs and an endless supply of penknives. They expelled him over and over and over cause he was always ready, with a penknife, for stabbing.

Although disobedient and aggressive, he was intelligent enough to pass his exams and worked as a teacher for a while, but he soon realized if he stayed, he’d probably penknife a student or parent to death, so he left to find himself in Switzerland at nineteen. While there, he gained a reputation as an avid reader, public speaker and journalist. Throughout his life, he wrote for and managed several newspapers.

Can you name that tyrant?

The first three contestants who eMail correct responses to tyrant@gameshow.com by 11:59 pm Tuesday Jan 31 will receive their very own How to Propaganda in Ten Steps brochure. Believe it! With less than a grade nine education, you could proudly churn out fake news in any medium you’d like. You will also receive Karl Marx trading coins and, of course, a penknife; strong enough for jugular jabs. Or you can use it to write/carve your name into whoever you’d like/dislike. It’s your prize. Do with it what makes you smile.

By the way – I dreamed I almost died doing mountain climbers and my last thought was, What a stupid name. I’m certain people who climb mountains don’t do it like this; they’d get nowhere. When I can do twenty-five stupid mountain climbers non-stop, in quick succession by the end of Feb 2023, I’ll know I’ve made significant gains.

My dreams would be even crazier if I slept on Jefferson’s surrealistic pillow! Have you heard of magic sheets, or magical. They’re made out of copper and you don’t need to wash them often. Google it!

2023.01.17 (Tue)

© 2023 Samantha Williams. All Rights Reserved.

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