• “Life can be awfully hard,” I sighed. “Really, really, really hard…” I looked out at the auditorium full of high school students. There was silence; they knew I wasn’t finished with my speech. I was at West View High, where I went when I wasn’t such an old man, talking to a bunch of children, practically. I am here about my book that they all read. I rubbed my prickly chin, which was a funny way to describe it. At least I would say so. I cleared my throat to continue my ongoing speech about how the stories main character was a young boy that went through all the things I did. “This book in my hand, the hard covered beauty named, When He was a Boy, is truthfully about me. I created it to get rid of all the guilt I felt inside about what I did to be cool in school. The things I did to get the girl I liked.” I stopped and looked out at all the kids that were staring intensely at the book in my hand, probably thinking: He did this to himself? “Yeah, I did these things.” I hung my head in shame and then looked at the audience. “I’m still not entirely happy about what I did. I admit it, I was an addict. A Heroin addict at that and that’s why…” I said with excitement in my voice, “That’s why I made this book. To tell you, to inform you, to make you realize how horrible this stuff is.” I pointed at my arm. “I know my life turned out okay, but it still hurts me that I overdosed. I almost died.” I paused and looked out at them. “Who here doesn’t get this story, I hope it was elaborate enough for your intelligent specimen of high school students.” A few hands flew up into the air, and I smiled. “Well, I shall explain it to you,” I chuckled as started my life story…

    To be continued...