My Hard Luck Story (Sort Of)
The tragic tale of a life that’s just a little too normal
I noticed the other day that writing sites sometimes reward hard luck stories, personal ones, written from the heart, with lots of sad stuff — and these stories might get a Boost and earn the big bucks.
Which makes it a win some, lose some sort of deal. Obviously, there is no amount of money that can make up for some of the truly sad stories, and only a sociopath would think otherwise.
Hello.
Which makes it a win some, lose some sort of deal. Obviously, there is no amount of money that can make up for some of the truly sad stories, and only a sociopath would think otherwise.
Hello.
I am here to tell you about my own hard luck story. Not in the hope of getting a Boost and the big bucks, plus fame without notoriety, thank you very much. Had enough notoriety way back when — during the hard luck period, obviously.
Although many on here now see me as some everyday gifted genius, it hasn’t always been like that. To think where I came from, to have ended up in Medium’s hallowed halls is really quite a remarkable tale.
Much of it can’t be fully revealed, for to do so would risk incriminating real people, including myself. I mean, I want a boost, but I don’t want to blow both of my followers with sordid details of a life lived on the edge.
Although many on here now see me as some everyday gifted genius, it hasn’t always been like that. To think where I came from, to have ended up in Medium’s hallowed halls is really quite a remarkable tale.
Much of it can’t be fully revealed, for to do so would risk incriminating real people, including myself. I mean, I want a boost, but I don’t want to blow both of my followers with sordid details of a life lived on the edge.
A Seemingly Normal Childhood
The short version of this terrible tale is this.
Kid gets born. Has a seemingly normal childhood. No obvious despair and possibly a decent education with books and stuff.
Ends up in a job which he sticks at for many years, earning a tidy penny in the process, I can tell you. Takes up writing towards the end of said career, hoping to live his life in relative security.
The short version of this terrible tale is this.
Kid gets born. Has a seemingly normal childhood. No obvious despair and possibly a decent education with books and stuff.
Ends up in a job which he sticks at for many years, earning a tidy penny in the process, I can tell you. Takes up writing towards the end of said career, hoping to live his life in relative security.
Where’s the Tragedy?
What’s terrible about that, the astute Boost Nominator might ask. I’ll tell you what’s terrible.
I have looked and looked for one single sodding thing I can find to complain about and nada.
Was I taken under a senior teacher’s wing and given extra tutelage after midnight? Nope.
Did I end up in a rehabilitation center having frittered away my inheritance? Not that either.
Perhaps I had some awful disfiguring disease that left me unable to function in normal society. Dammit — no. I’m far from attractive, some might say downright ugly, but that’s not enough to swing a Boost with. “My Ugly Life.” It’s not doing it for me.
What’s terrible about that, the astute Boost Nominator might ask. I’ll tell you what’s terrible.
I have looked and looked for one single sodding thing I can find to complain about and nada.
Was I taken under a senior teacher’s wing and given extra tutelage after midnight? Nope.
Did I end up in a rehabilitation center having frittered away my inheritance? Not that either.
Perhaps I had some awful disfiguring disease that left me unable to function in normal society. Dammit — no. I’m far from attractive, some might say downright ugly, but that’s not enough to swing a Boost with. “My Ugly Life.” It’s not doing it for me.
And that is what’s so terrible about this tale, which frankly, now is clear, has not the remotest chance of earning an extra fifty dollars. Nothing really tragic has happened to me.
I blame my parents, my schooling, career, and friends for this. If just one of them had chosen to let me down and abuse me — I too could have been front page for a couple of days.
I blame my parents, my schooling, career, and friends for this. If just one of them had chosen to let me down and abuse me — I too could have been front page for a couple of days.
In Conclusion: An Uplifting Thought
I’ll wrap up this tragic waste of time with an uplifting, cautionary saying — the kind that might earn me a pity Boost: “Be careful what you wish for.”
Thanks for your sympathy. I can feel it from here.
I’ll wrap up this tragic waste of time with an uplifting, cautionary saying — the kind that might earn me a pity Boost: “Be careful what you wish for.”
Thanks for your sympathy. I can feel it from here.