I have ADHD and it sucks. Everything must be 10 times slower or repeated 5 times and shown to me with an example. I comprehend, process, manage, organize - overall understand something - on a whole ‘nother level. Life is very tough and I feel like I am an ugly duckling that will transform into a swan 5 years later than I'm supposed to.
I have a section for my dad and dog. I love my mom and sister too though! My mom is a wonderful mother and does so much for me and my sister. She makes the whole family dinner each night, and is almost cool but very cringey. My sister is also very motherly. She is fun but struggles with various silly moments. She is 18 and drives me places. I am thankful for her existence.
As I do love my hockey… I also love my gaming. I play Call Of Duty on a largely competitive level and love it! I have played Call Of Duty since I was 7 and have stayed with it all along.
I am the founder-owner-CEO of a team called Hamn. I practice things like YouTube, and tournaments and have too much fun doing so.
I have been playing this game for a long time, approximately 12 years, but I love it. Being on the ice is cool. There is the chill of the rink, and the rush you get from gliding on the ice. When I was a wee-boy I played travel hockey for the first time after two years or recreational hockey. At this point I was in 3rd grade and much bigger than everybody else, but none the less I was still a wee-boy like my opponents and teammates. That year I developed and could control the game. Then it was a lot of fun and there was nothing stopping me but the passion of other sports. Now being 14, I still play hockey. Only now I am not a “wee-boy” and it matters that I play the sport. I still love hockey like a warm batch of cookies, but my practices are later and I have too many games with my school team and my travel team. Its too much and my grades drop because I'm always so tired.
Last summer I was a rising freshman in high school and I went on a sweet backpacking-hiking-wilderness-whatever trip in “Colo-rad-bro” (Colorado). I had never done a trip like that and I loved it. There is nothing more that I enjoy than reaching the top of a mountain thousands of feet up in the air, on a 24 mile hike, total, with my close friends that I have recently trusted my survival and life with. I matured over that trip and I am going again this summer on a different one with the same people.
A few years ago my dad used to watch the show Wilfred. So I sat with him one time and liked it after that. It's a funny show that makes you laugh, and falls under the genre of comedy. I don't still watch that show with him because the show ended, but I do still spend time with my dad, so that is my connection.
14 is boring books that take too long to read. Reading sucks. Why would I want to sit and do nothing but let my eyes follow along the words of a story that I didn't write or have no connection to. The only reason why you are reading my piece is because you feel the obligation to or have an unusual interest in freshman writing pieces. But that is a large part of my resist to reading. I do enjoy a good book here and there, maybe once every 2-3 years, but I won't be enveloped by my enjoyment of the story unless I have chosen it and made the decision to read it in the first place. I hate when I am assigned to a book that must be finished.
¨I don't want to listen to you,¨ whoever the ¨you¨ may be in any situation.
Books are just lame. Every time I read I lose focus and miss the majority of that page, but i turn the page because I will never finish the book. I hate the idea of there being words on pages, in many pages, that go on forever, and don't change once throughout the book. There is no variety in the pages, it's just words. If you take the time to write a book, make the pages look cool at least. Now being 14 means i need to read because ¨life is one giant book,¨ said many past teachers. No, you happen to be incorrect. Life is not a book and you are silly to think that,
14 is anger with the world. I find myself saying that many things in life are dumb and i shouldn't be doing this. I don't mean that I am maturing, I mean I think that what I am doing is dumb and I should no way be doing something this stupid. An example is when you smoke or underage-drink alcohol at some stupid 8th grade party, there are so many risks you take and it is pointless to be doing something so dumb.Or when you ask for nudes from some helpless girl that has never been spoken to by a guy and say sure because she doesn't know better. I don't find myself doing these things, but some of my silly colleagues do. When your friends are over dramatic and is causes you stress, that bothers me. Well I have pretty good hearing and all, and I am sensitive to annoying sounds. For example, sucking on a lolly pop, the sound of some kid´s fingers running along felt, when a girl makes that annoying squeal laugh thing that is way too loud, when someone is chewing food with there mouth open, or sipping a cup louder than they can scream.
I hate how the world works. I sometimes wonder, how come we humans are the most superior species we are aware of, and yet we live in a world where you can't be happy unless you go to college and get the right job that pays the right money? That pisses me off. We should just be who we want and if your boss doesn't like you then go find the same job somewhere else or get some help, other than college, that does not decide your future. I do realize that these life-job thoughts are unrealistic and probably won't be successful, but this is 14.
One part of 14 is food! I am always starving. Why does mom come home from Stop & Shop or Trader Joes and there is still nothing to eat in the house. I have a kitchen with cupboards filled with food making ingredients. And a refrigerator full of yogurt and carrots. Where is all my chicken tender leftovers, and crappy food for snacking, and already made Mac n Cheese. Yup survival is tough where I live.
Being 14 is hard because you are always on a bubble of discrepancies. Many times you find yourself, casually, arguing with your mom over freedoms and privileges. You want so much freedom over what you can and can't do and there is never enough freedom. But when you are let off the leash, you get hit by a car because “the car wasn't there before you stepped into the street.” But you learned you lesson. As you age you gain more responsibilities and realize how much your parents were doing for you all along.
Mom- “Hey you want to go to Jimmys house tomorrow?
Mom- “Great. I left your lunch on the kitchen counter and your backpack is ready to go. And he has a swimming pool so make sure you don't forget to pick out a bathing suit to bring.”
While you are now 14 and “need” more freedom. But you don't want to be completely free, right? I'm Because your mom is still supposed to help you stay organized and get up in the morning when you sleep through your alarm. It is difficult to be successful.
On top of the Ice - Cream - Sunday, you have hobbies which take up your time. But you love what you do and can't be happy without a little variety. So you stick to your hobbies and stay exhausted.
It was hot and humid day. I had only been out there for 20 minutes. I could feel the grass pulling away at my leg hair just before my thick pants. My fingers tingling as they braced for force. My grandfather’s breath in my ear. Each and every sound bellowing from the outside all the way to my ear-drums and back. Crunch Crunch, a squirrel awakened my place in my surroundings. As I laid in the middle of the meadow, my grandfather and I lay on our stomachs. I delocalized my rifle. Aiming down the 300 yard sniper scope, I adjusted the trajectory of my bullet path. I was shooting 60 yards out. The oil inside the barrel was slick and newly changed by my grandfather. The sweat dripping down off my hair, hanging over my forehead. The droplet held on for life then released landing in my dominant eye, my right eye, straining the cells of my sclera. I pushed through the irritation with indefinite relief. My whole body now still as rock. The ground was uneven, slanting my whole body to the right, but that was no challenge. I brought the cross hairs over my target. I let my breath go and held it there, moved my finger over the trigger and squeezed away. I felt the gun exploded in my hands and jolt back into my chest. I felt the bullet travel all the way through the barrel, spiraling in unbelievable velocity. CRACK! Shit, I’d missed! I felt my dissatisfaction in my veins. I didn't hit the the target, in fact I made contact with a rock wall about 2 feet behind the target. I was not in a war or a battle of any sort. I was shooting a b-b sniper rifle in the backyard of my grandparents house in White Plains, and I was shooting at 2 cans and a milk carton.
My grandparents live in a pretty big property. There is always a day of work to be done to keep that pond flowing well, all three bird feeders full with food, clean and clear gardens with rich soil and no weeds, and fire wood to be chopped in the back. My grandpa did it all along with my grandma. That’s the type of man my grandpa is. As the story goes, when he was just 14 he blew up a milk truck with a self constructed dynamite like explosive. Of course he continued on to go to the Cornell School Of Engineering. He works very hard and was known as a nerd. My grandpa is a cool guy. I went to his house one day and we built a small shelf and spray painted it. While spraying down the shelf we ran out of ink. “Oh no big deal,” as he went into his spray paint closet to get another one. He is a very formal man who dresses nicely and speaks well. He is extremely smart and caring. Once when I was younger he left me home alone for 30 minutes and I was scared of my imagination. He left me in the garage as he pulled out of the driveway so I closed the garage door behind him leaving myself in the garage. But I got scared and locked the garage door - bad idea.. I know. So he came home and pushed his inside car button to open the garage not knowing that I’d locked the door. The garage almost broke and the lock was impossible to re-open. Ooh I got it that day. Grandpa was so mad at me! He scolded me hard and made me feel shame and disappointment in myself. Pretend you are getting bullied and this kid is picking on you and you want to cry so badly but you must hold it back, so you get a giant ball in your throat. That was my throat. Though in the end I felt closer to him for helping me. Through all my grieving, I learned that the only thing I could do to upset my grandpa was break something of his. And from then on I felt closer and fearless with him because I knew how easy it would be to not break anything. This allowed me to explore super cool things with him and be open as I normally am.
Now older, we explored his b-b sniper rifle, which was crazy cool because I had used guns in my video games and now I got to bring that to life.
After that miss I was powered with adrenaline and drive to bust a dent right into those cans. I lined up my shot, holding the gun with the stock in my chest. I wiped the smirk off my face, it was go time. I looked down the scope with both eyes open. I exhaled and held my breath there keeping maximum sway stability. I was next to so many things, yet I was alone with the cans and my rifle; I gave it one last look. POP goes the rifle! The pellet released leaving a miniature sonic boom. Waiting with anticipation and hope, that half of a second felt like a minute. PING! Oh finally, I thought as I marked that can. Oh take that bitch, as I thought to myself, grunting with glee. “Aaay,” my grandpa yelled in a funny and joyful way, “You got it!”
Later on I hit that can again, and again, and once more. My grandpa told me I had a good shot, and I couldn't wait to shoot another day with him! It was so much fun. But my grandpa is more than a “sniping coach.” He has been there for all of my life. He gives me jobs and pays me money. He gives me advice for school and life lessons. He looks out for me and rewards me with a, “GOOD MAN AIDAN” when I do something right. He and I are very close now and I respect him immensely.