Prologue:

I really like sponges.
This may seem like an odd way to begin, but sponges practically sum up my life. They're just sort of there, no one really notices them, but they soak it all in and absorb everything around them. Just replace water with social interactions and conversation, and you have my life right there. I soak it all in, and never let it out.

Until now.

I am writing this in order to get out all the emotions I have kept bottled up inside me for all these years of my life. If you don't like it, you don't have to stay. It will be disturbing at times, funny at others, and heartbreaking too. I guarantee you that it will be one hell of a ride, or a train wreck, depending on how you look at it.

- Mitch Parker




Chapter 1

I could go on and on about how much my life sucks, and how I was born to a mother I never knew, and an awful father, and drama this and drama that, and all that Charles Dickens s***, but the truth is, I'm not here for that. I'm here to tell you a story. The story of my 10th grade year. I was known as Sponge all throughout high school, until I graduated and never set foot in a goddamn school again. People are always telling me I need an education, and all that crap, but honestly, I think I'm better off without it. I'm as happy as I could ever be now, and I'm 33 years old. I hated that word sponge, throughout 10th grade year. However, this is my story. The story of how I learned to get over my hated insult, and my oppressive father, and learned to love my life even if it cost me the respect of many, and a proper education.
So it was my first day at 10th grade, at my new school, in my new town, and I was prepared. I didn't know a single person, but I had a good plan to get people to know me. The previous night, I had made 50 identical index cards for every student in my homeroom. On the cards it said something about me, such as I like music, or I hate swimming or I sucked my thumb until I was 13 years old. All useful things to know. It also had my name, Mitch Parker.

I know I could have just told it to everyone, but I figured that might be awkward, saying random things about myself in front of the whole class, so I decided to be a bit more subtle. Besides, handing them out would be quicker than telling 50 individual people something about myself. Pretty soon, I figured, people would read the card and get to know me. I'd be popular in no time.

You see, my new school was much larger than my old one. My old town had a population of 1,000 people, and the public high school only had about 100 students. Here in my new town, there were 5 times that many in each grade. You really have to sort people into different categories, and filter out a lot of things that don't apply to you. I began to filter out some of the kids as they walked into homeroom. Some looked like jerks. Some looked like bigger jerks. And finally, there were some attractive girls. Of course, I wasn't exactly Taylor Lautner myself. Then some more people I couldn't exactly sort into a category. I handed each one an index card, and waited to become the most popular kid in school in a matter of minutes. The whole homeroom would know me.

Unfortunately, there were a couple factors I didn't consider. Everyone left the cards at their desk, when homeroom was over, which I didn't mind, since the people In the next class might read them as well. However, pretty soon, the cards were scattered all over the school. I even found one in a bathroom stall. I don't know if this makes me weird or not, but I don't like the idea of people reading about my life as they take a crap.


Chapter 2
My first month of sophomore year sucked. I was called Sponge wherever I went. It was the worst. Even the gym teacher was in on it. I figured if I pretended I was okay with it, it would eventually stop, but it didn't. In October, I discovered that there would be a sophomore dance. There was this one girl, Kate that I really liked. She was hot, and seemed really nice too. I had never actually talked to her, though.
I hate it when people in advice columns and magazines say "just talk to her" when there's a girl you like. It's not that simple. I would have to be more subtle, and do something to get noticed.
I wasn't really good at anything, so I realized I would have to get creative. I needed to do something to get her to notice me, without her being able to tell I was a loser. It would be difficult.
I had my first opportunity when I saw her in the hallway with two foolish looking jocks from the football team. Or the basketball team. I couldn't tell. I never knew much about sports. In the hallway, thew were lots of people there, since it was in between classes. she was almost a head taller than just about anyone there, including those two jocks. Her long, black hair, combined with the fact that she was a head taller than anyone else made her the center of attention.So I decided to just walk up to her, and stood there for a few seconds
" hey. You."
It was one of the muscular athletes. I had to act fast, or the janitor would have to scrape me off the floor like a piece of gum by the time those jocks got done with me.
I didn't really know what to do, but she started staring at me, which meant I was probably off to a good start. Finally, I began to dance, since I wanted to hint at the whole sophomore dance idea.
At this point, those two football players began to stare at me, and shake their heads, almost simultaneously. Then, both of them walked away. One murmured " retard" just loudly enough for me to hear.
For some reason, the dance completely backfired. I began to sort of shake my body around. I thought I was doing a pretty good job. I didn't want it to be too sexual, but I didn't want to be awkward either, so I started shaking my hips a little, slowly increasing how much I was doing it. Pretty soon, I was shaking like a hawaiian shivering in a blizzard. She must have not liked to dance, though, because she made a face at me, and walked away. Her face was worth a thousand words. It showed that I, the peasant lowlife was not worthy of her grand high snobbishness. I don't know what I had been thinking.
No one is ever really nice to me. Not everyone is mean to me either, but the only people that ever seem to be nice to me are drunk people. For example, once, I was at a convenience store buying some snack cakes, and a soda, when an old lady walked up to me. She started telling me that I would go really far in life. Then, she started to touch me, not in a weird way, at first, but then she started to feel my body in an odd way. It was a good thing I noticed she was going blind, by her walking stick and dark sunglasses, or I would have been really creeped out. She kept raving about how she thought I would be famous, and great. Then, she staggered off...I realized she was carrying several empty beer cans. It's a terrible idea to get drunk if you can't see in the first place, but at the same time, I felt sympathy for her. In fact to this day, whenever I think of her, I cry. She told me I would go far in life. I didn't and she was wrong, but that's part of the reason why I cry. She was nice to me. Yes, she was drunk, but you get my point. Not even my father is nice to me. Yet a drunk old woman in the street was. It really meant a lot to me at the time, and still does.


That same day, I was sitting in the most boring class ever, which was intro to French. If I wanted to speak French, I'd move to France, but it seems that colleges require several years of a language, which would make sense, if I was sure I wanted to go to college. The teacher was going on about class expectations at the time. So in short, I was in a class that was supposed to teach me a language that I didnt want to learn, that was required for something I didn't want to do. To make matters worse, we weren't even LEARNING anything. Seems like flawed logic to me.

So, I had gum in my mouth during class, and it had lost its flavor, so I decided to dispose of it under the desk, since everyone else's gum was there. I figured that at this new school, that must be where people leave their gum, since come to think of it, I hadn't noticed any trash barrels around. So, I took it out, and stuck it under the desk.
By some incredibly slim chance, the teacher, Ms. Moisand, noticed the gum in my hand as I stuck it under the desk. Immidiately, she said "Mr. Parker, I'd like to see you after class". That woman had eyes like a hawk.
Class went by, and after class, she forced me to sponge down all the desks, and every time I wanted an explanation, she told me "not to talk back".
I didn't want to make a bad impression, so I spent the next half hour sponging the desks down. When I finally made it to my next class, the teacher got pissed at me for being late. "Sponge" they began to giglgle. My hated moniker was born. For the rest of high school, that was my name. Sponge.
I didn't think that things could get much worse than my first month of school, but things got a lot worse. In addition to being called Sponge by everyone, except the English teacher, whose name was Ms. Krum. I had to look at banners all over the school for that stupid sophomore dance. I saw everyone walking down the halls, talking about it. I even noticed that all the guys, except me, seemed to have a date and were talking about it. I saw people kissing and hugging outside after school got out, and it was really pissing me off. I needed another plan.
The one girl who didn't seem to have a date yet was Laurie. She really wasn't that attractive, but at least I would have someone to go with if she said yes to me. She wouldn't really be able to dance, either, since she was on crutches, but I figured I could get to know her, and make a new friend, since I still had zero friends a month into the school year.
We had lunch today around 12:30, and I decided to sit with her at lunch. I wasn't really sure what I would say, and she was sitting with a bunch of friends, so I just got my lunch and sat across from her, where there was an open seat.
Lunch today smelled kind of like a hamster with cheese on top, except it was all burnt and mashed up to the point of no recognition. I hate school lunch. The lunch ladies are mean and if you complain to them about the meals, then, they just look at you funnily and tell you to stop complaining and eat it like everyone else. It's a lot like communism. If I wanted to be a communist, I'd move to Russia.
So, here I was, sitting across from Laurie. I had no idea what to say, and was very nervous to say something, but I knew that if I didn't, then it would just become like the situation with Kate. Slowly, I cleared, my throat, and gasped. Then, I looked at her and spoke
"this lunch smells like a dead hamster", I said, smiling. I once read in a book that smiling a lot makes people like you.
She turned to me, and frowned. Then, she said "go away" very bluntly. Whoever writes those self help books should really go and burn their own books.
I didn't really know where else to sit, so I decided I'd just wander around a bit more. Then, as if my day couldn't get any worse, those two assholes from the football team showed up.
I really had no idea why they were in the halls, or why they were walking towards me, but the one thing I didn't want was for things to get any worse, so I began to walk away.
"hey you!". One of them yelled. "get over here."
I obeyed their command, and began to walk over.
"what were you doing with my girl?"
"what are you talking about?" I was confused. I hadn't been with any girl except Laurie, and she didn't have a boyfriend.
" yo, sponge." said the other one " that wasn't cool."
I cringed. I really hated that word.
" yeah, sponge. " Replied the other
"if I ever see you dancing near my girl again, I'll kill you."
Ah, yes. I thought. Kate.
I thought about saying something witty back, but I couldn't think of anything. I can never make witty comebacks on the spot like in the movies. It takes me days to think of them. I hate that about myself. Slowly, I walked away. "Sponge!" one of them called out, in a nasty tone. They must have meant it as an insult, and I took it that way.

My dad really hates me.

I know this for a fact. On my 13th birthday, he decided that since I was a teenager, I was too old for birthday presents, and didn't give me a single thing.
I never knew my Mom, and he's the only real family I have, but I swear, that man despises me, and I'm not even really sure why. It's really annoying.
Like, for example, for my 10th birthday, I really wanted a dog and told him. He immediately told me I didn't need a dog. I kept begging with him, until my birthday, when I saw that he had gotten me a goldfish. It was no dog, but I was still pretty happy. I mean, it was probably the best thing I had ever gotten from him.
So weeks passed. At first I did nothing but stare at the goldfish in pure excitement. Needless to say, it didn't last long. After that, I really only payed attention to it when I fed it once a day.n pretty soon, it was almost forgotten. It couldn't run around or play like a dog. In fact, the damn thing couldn't even go out of its bowl, or it would die.
One day, I complained about this to my Dad. He responded by calling me ungrateful, and locking me in my room with no food. All I could do was watch that goldfish, trapped in its bowl. I felt similar, trapped in my room with nothing. Pretty soon, I felt hungry, then thirsty. It began to get late, and I must have been in there for a couple of hours. By the time it was late at night, I knew I had to do something. First, I began to look around my room, but I kept just looking at that stupid fish. I swear, it was staring into my soul.
My instincts took over. I began to drink out of the fish bowl, then the fish slipped out. It took me a very long time to find where the fish had flopped away to. When I found it under my bed, I put it back in the bowl, and stared at it some more.
I was really hungry and needed to do something before I started going crazy. I started to stare at the fish again. It seemed like a pretty good idea to eat it for a few moments, but I wasn't sure how it would taste raw. Plus, it was tiny. That fish would never fill me up. That was when I officially decided that goldfish are useless beings. They're too boring to keep as pets, and too small for food.



Prologue:

I really like sponges.
This may seem like an odd way to begin, but sponges practically sum up my life. They're just sort of there, no one really notices them, but they soak it all in and absorb everything around them. Just replace water with social interactions and conversation, and you have my life right there. I soak it all in, and never let it out.

Until now.

I am writing this in order to get out all the emotions I have kept bottled up inside me for all these years of my life. If you don't like it, you don't have to stay. It will be disturbing at times, funny at others, and heartbreaking too. I guarantee you that it will be one hell of a ride, or a train wreck, depending on how you look at it.

- Mitch Parker




Chapter 1

I could go on and on about how much my life sucks, and how I was born to a mother I never knew, and an awful father, and drama this and drama that, and all that Charles Dickens s***, but the truth is, I'm not here for that. I'm here to tell you a story. The story of my 10th grade year. I was known as Sponge all throughout high school, until I graduated and never set foot in a goddamn school again. People are always telling me I need an education, and all that crap, but honestly, I think I'm better off without it. I'm as happy as I could ever be now, and I'm 33 years old. I hated that word sponge, throughout 10th grade year. However, this is my story. The story of how I learned to get over my hated insult, and my oppressive father, and learned to love my life even if it cost me the respect of many, and a proper education.
So it was my first day at 10th grade, at my new school, in my new town, and I was prepared. I didn't know a single person, but I had a good plan to get people to know me. The previous night, I had made 50 identical index cards for every student in my homeroom. On the cards it said something about me, such as I like music, or I hate swimming or I sucked my thumb until I was 13 years old. All useful things to know. It also had my name, Mitch Parker.

I know I could have just told it to everyone, but I figured that might be awkward, saying random things about myself in front of the whole class, so I decided to be a bit more subtle. Besides, handing them out would be quicker than telling 50 individual people something about myself. Pretty soon, I figured, people would read the card and get to know me. I'd be popular in no time.

You see, my new school was much larger than my old one. My old town had a population of 1,000 people, and the public high school only had about 100 students. Here in my new town, there were 5 times that many in each grade. You really have to sort people into different categories, and filter out a lot of things that don't apply to you. I began to filter out some of the kids as they walked into homeroom. Some looked like jerks. Some looked like bigger jerks. And finally, there were some attractive girls. Of course, I wasn't exactly Taylor Lautner myself. Then some more people I couldn't exactly sort into a category. I handed each one an index card, and waited to become the most popular kid in school in a matter of minutes. The whole homeroom would know me.

Unfortunately, there were a couple factors I didn't consider. Everyone left the cards at their desk, when homeroom was over, which I didn't mind, since the people In the next class might read them as well. However, pretty soon, the cards were scattered all over the school. I even found one in a bathroom stall. I don't know if this makes me weird or not, but I don't like the idea of people reading about my life as they take a crap.


Chapter 2
My first month of sophomore year sucked. I was called Sponge wherever I went. It was the worst. Even the gym teacher was in on it. I figured if I pretended I was okay with it, it would eventually stop, but it didn't. In October, I discovered that there would be a sophomore dance. There was this one girl, Kate that I really liked. She was hot, and seemed really nice too. I had never actually talked to her, though.
I hate it when people in advice columns and magazines say "just talk to her" when there's a girl you like. It's not that simple. I would have to be more subtle, and do something to get noticed.
I wasn't really good at anything, so I realized I would have to get creative. I needed to do something to get her to notice me, without her being able to tell I was a loser. It would be difficult.
I had my first opportunity when I saw her in the hallway with two foolish looking jocks from the football team. Or the basketball team. I couldn't tell. I never knew much about sports. In the hallway, thew were lots of people there, since it was in between classes. she was almost a head taller than just about anyone there, including those two jocks. Her long, black hair, combined with the fact that she was a head taller than anyone else made her the center of attention.So I decided to just walk up to her, and stood there for a few seconds
" hey. You."
It was one of the muscular athletes. I had to act fast, or the janitor would have to scrape me off the floor like a piece of gum by the time those jocks got done with me.
I didn't really know what to do, but she started staring at me, which meant I was probably off to a good start. Finally, I began to dance, since I wanted to hint at the whole sophomore dance idea.
At this point, those two football players began to stare at me, and shake their heads, almost simultaneously. Then, both of them walked away. One murmured " retard" just loudly enough for me to hear.
For some reason, the dance completely backfired. I began to sort of shake my body around. I thought I was doing a pretty good job. I didn't want it to be too sexual, but I didn't want to be awkward either, so I started shaking my hips a little, slowly increasing how much I was doing it. Pretty soon, I was shaking like a hawaiian shivering in a blizzard. She must have not liked to dance, though, because she made a face at me, and walked away. Her face was worth a thousand words. It showed that I, the peasant lowlife was not worthy of her grand high snobbishness. I don't know what I had been thinking.
No one is ever really nice to me. Not everyone is mean to me either, but the only people that ever seem to be nice to me are drunk people. For example, once, I was at a convenience store buying some snack cakes, and a soda, when an old lady walked up to me. She started telling me that I would go really far in life. Then, she started to touch me, not in a weird way, at first, but then she started to feel my body in an odd way. It was a good thing I noticed she was going blind, by her walking stick and dark sunglasses, or I would have been really creeped out. She kept raving about how she thought I would be famous, and great. Then, she staggered off...I realized she was carrying several empty beer cans. It's a terrible idea to get drunk if you can't see in the first place, but at the same time, I felt sympathy for her. In fact to this day, whenever I think of her, I cry. She told me I would go far in life. I didn't and she was wrong, but that's part of the reason why I cry. She was nice to me. Yes, she was drunk, but you get my point. Not even my father is nice to me. Yet a drunk old woman in the street was. It really meant a lot to me at the time, and still does.


That same day, I was sitting in the most boring class ever, which was intro to French. If I wanted to speak French, I'd move to France, but it seems that colleges require several years of a language, which would make sense, if I was sure I wanted to go to college. The teacher was going on about class expectations at the time. So in short, I was in a class that was supposed to teach me a language that I didnt want to learn, that was required for something I didn't want to do. To make matters worse, we weren't even LEARNING anything. Seems like flawed logic to me.

So, I had gum in my mouth during class, and it had lost its flavor, so I decided to dispose of it under the desk, since everyone else's gum was there. I figured that at this new school, that must be where people leave their gum, since come to think of it, I hadn't noticed any trash barrels around. So, I took it out, and stuck it under the desk.
By some incredibly slim chance, the teacher, Ms. Moisand, noticed the gum in my hand as I stuck it under the desk. Immidiately, she said "Mr. Parker, I'd like to see you after class". That woman had eyes like a hawk.
Class went by, and after class, she forced me to sponge down all the desks, and every time I wanted an explanation, she told me "not to talk back".
I didn't want to make a bad impression, so I spent the next half hour sponging the desks down. When I finally made it to my next class, the teacher got pissed at me for being late. "Sponge" they began to giglgle. My hated moniker was born. For the rest of high school, that was my name. Sponge.
I didn't think that things could get much worse than my first month of school, but things got a lot worse. In addition to being called Sponge by everyone, except the English teacher, whose name was Ms. Krum. I had to look at banners all over the school for that stupid sophomore dance. I saw everyone walking down the halls, talking about it. I even noticed that all the guys, except me, seemed to have a date and were talking about it. I saw people kissing and hugging outside after school got out, and it was really pissing me off. I needed another plan.
The one girl who didn't seem to have a date yet was Laurie. She really wasn't that attractive, but at least I would have someone to go with if she said yes to me. She wouldn't really be able to dance, either, since she was on crutches, but I figured I could get to know her, and make a new friend, since I still had zero friends a month into the school year.
We had lunch today around 12:30, and I decided to sit with her at lunch. I wasn't really sure what I would say, and she was sitting with a bunch of friends, so I just got my lunch and sat across from her, where there was an open seat.
Lunch today smelled kind of like a hamster with cheese on top, except it was all burnt and mashed up to the point of no recognition. I hate school lunch. The lunch ladies are mean and if you complain to them about the meals, then, they just look at you funnily and tell you to stop complaining and eat it like everyone else. It's a lot like communism. If I wanted to be a communist, I'd move to Russia.
So, here I was, sitting across from Laurie. I had no idea what to say, and was very nervous to say something, but I knew that if I didn't, then it would just become like the situation with Kate. Slowly, I cleared, my throat, and gasped. Then, I looked at her and spoke
"this lunch smells like a dead hamster", I said, smiling. I once read in a book that smiling a lot makes people like you.
She turned to me, and frowned. Then, she said "go away" very bluntly. Whoever writes those self help books should really go and burn their own books.
I didn't really know where else to sit, so I decided I'd just wander around a bit more. Then, as if my day couldn't get any worse, those two assholes from the football team showed up.
I really had no idea why they were in the halls, or why they were walking towards me, but the one thing I didn't want was for things to get any worse, so I began to walk away.
"hey you!". One of them yelled. "get over here."
I obeyed their command, and began to walk over.
"what were you doing with my girl?"
"what are you talking about?" I was confused. I hadn't been with any girl except Laurie, and she didn't have a boyfriend.
" yo, sponge." said the other one " that wasn't cool."
I cringed. I really hated that word.
" yeah, sponge. " Replied the other
"if I ever see you dancing near my girl again, I'll kill you."
Ah, yes. I thought. Kate.
I thought about saying something witty back, but I couldn't think of anything. I can never make witty comebacks on the spot like in the movies. It takes me days to think of them. I hate that about myself. Slowly, I walked away. "Sponge!" one of them called out, in a nasty tone. They must have meant it as an insult, and I took it that way.

My dad really hates me.

I know this for a fact. On my 13th birthday, he decided that since I was a teenager, I was too old for birthday presents, and didn't give me a single thing.
I never knew my Mom, and he's the only real family I have, but I swear, that man despises me, and I'm not even really sure why. It's really annoying.
Like, for example, for my 10th birthday, I really wanted a dog and told him. He immediately told me I didn't need a dog. I kept begging with him, until my birthday, when I saw that he had gotten me a goldfish. It was no dog, but I was still pretty happy. I mean, it was probably the best thing I had ever gotten from him.
So weeks passed. At first I did nothing but stare at the goldfish in pure excitement. Needless to say, it didn't last long. After that, I really only payed attention to it when I fed it once a day.n pretty soon, it was almost forgotten. It couldn't run around or play like a dog. In fact, the damn thing couldn't even go out of its bowl, or it would die.
One day, I complained about this to my Dad. He responded by calling me ungrateful, and locking me in my room with no food. All I could do was watch that goldfish, trapped in its bowl. I felt similar, trapped in my room with nothing. Pretty soon, I felt hungry, then thirsty. It began to get late, and I must have been in there for a couple of hours. By the time it was late at night, I knew I had to do something. First, I began to look around my room, but I kept just looking at that stupid fish. I swear, it was staring into my soul.
My instincts took over. I began to drink out of the fish bowl, then the fish slipped out. It took me a very long time to find where the fish had flopped away to. When I found it under my bed, I put it back in the bowl, and stared at it some more.
I was really hungry and needed to do something before I started going crazy. I started to stare at the fish again. It seemed like a pretty good idea to eat it for a few moments, but I wasn't sure how it would taste raw. Plus, it was tiny. That fish would never fill me up. That was when I officially decided that goldfish are useless beings. They're too boring to keep as pets, and too small for food.