An Honor

This is a story not based on my achievements, but on my failures. In fact, I don't know if I ever will succeed. My name is Sahib Singh, and I am a 15 year old boy born to die. So if you're looking for a good read, or something with a happy ending, I suggest you not read this, because frankly, I don't even know whether or not this book is going to have a happy ending or not. I write 1 page every day, 7 days a week. Hopefully, in 1 year, I'll be done with this, and perhaps I'll succeed in my goal, which, by the way, is to become not only an actor, but a famous one. Maybe, just maybe, I really will finish this book, and maybe someone big will like it and sign me to a contract, and maybe then I can make my big break into the acting business. That's a lot of maybes. So I guess that kind of just shows how bad I want to become famous. I'm willing to try anything, and this idea just popped into my head. I have no experience in writing. In fact, I dreaded it up until a couple of days ago. I realized that writing, no matter how much I hated it, was a way for me to enter a world of my own, a world where I could be as famous, as glamorous, as brilliant as I wanted to be, and that nobody could take that feeling away from me. Unfortunately, when I break into the real world, I become more depressed than ever, and I feel as though I'll never become famous. Now perhaps you're thinking this guys a nut. What idiot wastes their time writing a so called 'book' that he doesn't even know is going to be published or not to become famous! Yeah, that pretty much sums up what I think of myself too. But you know, so what. I may not have such a rise as Michael Phelps, who went to having 1000 friends on facebook one day, to over 9000 requests after he won his medals, or Kobe Bryant, but I can tell you this, I have as big a heart as Phelps or Bryant. I want to make every effort I can make to accomplish my goal, every effort till my last breath. I sure hope it'll pay off. If not, well, I don't want to break my own heart just yet. I'll always remember what Will Smith once said, "don't let nobody ever tell you, that you can't do something". Although the grammar doesn't really make sense, the meaning, at least to me, sure the hell does.

Chapter 2

I think I might have slightly rushed the introduction. Let me start over. As you know, my name is Sahib Singh and I am a 15 year old boy. I live in the brightest and best area, the Bay Area, in California. I have grown up my whole life in the same household and as a matter of fact, I was born in my room. I go to school at Hayward High, which is one of the worst, if not the worst, schools to go to. I am considered by many to have a 'higher-than-average' brain intellect. You could say it's a compliment. I would disagree. My school is an institute where people who have been voted most likely to succeed end up on the corners of liquor stores begging for a cent or two to buy alcohol. But this is not entirely the fault of the students. Although Hayward High has been dominated by drugs and gangs and violence, there are few that actually want to learn and become somebody. However teachers, failing to bring into statistics this percentage, regard everyone as 'people who are here to waste their time'. This leads to the teachers not caring about the students. Which then leads to students, who are very, very bright, people who can become famous, but lack the motivation to do so, to fail staggeringly? Coming from a very proud Sikh family, I have one brother who is currently striving to become a Neurosurgeon-he is currently enrolled in the University of Pittsburgh Med- and 1 sister who is currently enrolled in Harvard University. My parents have stressed the importance of education and for that I am grateful. But they have set their hopes on me becoming a doctor too. I have not yet told them, seriously, that I don't plan on becoming a doctor. Therefore I do not have my parents' support and I cannot go even a mile to audition for a play. This, along with the fact that I have a turban, makes my sure-fire plan of becoming an actor slightly complicated.

Today was the first day of my sophomore year of high school. It wasn't bad. In fact, it was pretty good. I talked to a friend about what he thought of me becoming an actor. It would be better for my self-esteem to leave the answer blank.

Chapter 3

Second day was a good day. I don't really have much to say about today, just the fact that I am writing to fill in blank spots on the paper. I tend to procrastinate more than necessary. Call it my style. I did some more research on my goal. Just to make a point clear, I will now refer to my becoming an actor, as a goal, as that word properly suits it, simply an accomplishment that a person would like to complete within their lifetime for their satisfaction. So like I was saying, I did some more research, and my hope took a slight jump. Like I said, I'm a sophomore, and I have 3 more years until I graduate. So a thought struck me, what better university than UCLA, further research showed that UCLA was the top-ranked university for Television and film. I am more than sure that I will be accepted there. On top of this big discovery, I have also received the official approval of my mother to follow my dreams of becoming an actor. But, knowing my mother, she won't support me in any way other than giving me approval. Still, for me, this is a huge accomplishment. I wish one day, I can make my parents proud and have them not only say, but truly want to say, that I'm their son.

Chapter 4

I had a sister. She was wonderful. She was amazing. In fact, she almost represented me, and my goal, in a totally different way. She struggled to become the first person to go to Harvard, out of Hayward High School, in 109 years. People said she couldn't do it, but she proved them wrong. Her first year at Harvard went great, not academically, but great nonetheless. Her sophomore year went even better. But somewhere along the road, something happened. Now I'm not going to sit here and be the judge or critic of what that 'something' was, I not going to make any hypothesis, but something definitely happened. That happening led to her downfall religiously. Now as I said, I come from a proud family of Sikhs. This made the situation complicated, and as a result, my parents have cut off all connections with my sister. As far as they're concerned, she's not even their daughter. But to say that I did the same would be wrong. Now we all say that there are limits. Some people play with the limit, perhaps even going over once or twice, but very few actually zoom through like Usain Bolt. This limit being the limit of self respect. She lost it. I'm a boy who isn't afraid to speak the truth. No matter how rough. And I spoke the truth, with her. In reply, she wrote a message that might hint she was up to something. I quickly threw that thought out of my mind. But I do not approve of people without respect. That is why it is only right to say that I had a sister. Whether or not this is a good decision, you be the judge of that. Respect is what defines me. It is what I am. I am respect. For those who do not have any. Godspeed. For those who do, Godspeed.

While we're at my family, I would like to say that my family is one with many, many conflicts, much more than the average household in America. In fact, as I write, my parents are fighting, and I have grown accustomed to their bickering and fighting. I try once in a while to diffuse the situation, it usually doesn't work. Nothing better to end the day with than a good ole' fight between the parents eh?

Chapter Whatever

WOW! It does not seem like it's been more than 5 months since my last entry. I cannot say that I've been busy, because then I'd be lying. I said I procrastinated a lot. Did you believe me? Or did you simple skim over the words, like your skimming over these ones. Can you hear me when I say help me? Can you feel what I feel? I pray for you if you answer yes. I would not wish my life upon people like Hitler. I do not know what to do. I am in a jail. Not a jail of my house, or room. Not in a jail of parents, or people I know, but a jail of mind. A jail of thought. Curse those who have an advanced thought. Curse those who are smarter than animals. I hope you can understand what I'm trying to say. I'm not going to explain anything. I'm done with explaining. I don't have to explain anything to anybody and I won't explain anything to anybody. Call me selfish, call me whatever you want. I don't care what you think. Unless you've stepped in my shoes for even one minute, I don't care what anybody in this world thinks. Screw the world. Screw life. I say orphans are better than me. I could've been whatever I wanted to be. I still can be what I want to be. But without support, who am I? My parents don't care about me. and fuck you if you're thinking 'oh no, you're just a boy, you don't understand'. Are you me? Do you know who I am? NO. The sole essense of my being hates me. People will look at me with hatred, with eyes that tell it all. I hate myself for being so cheerful in front of everybody. Somebody help. Please, the only reason I started another chapter in this stupid book is because for some reason, in the corner of my mind, I understand that I need to record this for my life, however long, for myself. Did you know, that there is no real easy way to commit suicide? Now you wonder how I know that, huh? Did you also know, that the "easiest" possible way to commit suicide are sleeping pills? I was such a great guy, so great, I would divulge into narcissism and dream of future times- of fantasies- where I could be what I wanted to be, not what they want me to be, or what he or she wanted me to be. What happened? Can you tell me? Can you give me any answers? Why me? So many questions, no answers.

I still have my brothers voice in my head- "Mum and Dad gave me a lot of motivation... I was motivated not to end up like them" WHO AM I? DO YOU KNOW? TELL ME! TELL ME! WHO AM I! WHO AM I!!!!!!

~~~~~~~~~~

Yesterday I realized something really important. I realized that I've been selfish, extremely selfish. In fact, I considered deleting all my entries, but those entries are what makes me me. I've promised myself that I'm going to change. It's strange, because one little comment can make you think about everything you've ever done twice. It just happened that I was with my cousins yesterday, and we were going to a party. There was a song on the radio, talking about how the boy wouldn't stop drinking even though his mom told him to. One of my cousins, Deep, asked my cousin who was driving, Happy, if his mom had ever told him to stop drinking, and he simply nodded. That simple nod made me realize how selfish I had been. Everyone in this world has problems. It's just how you deal with the problems that make you unique. Some people look towards drinking as a vent, others think about suicide, and some just don't know what to do. Now I want to go back to ever since I can remember, and change everything. I realize that I've probably been wrong more times than I've been right, and I've never admitted that I was wrong. I plan on changing that. This doesn't mean that I've become passive, not in the least. It's just another method to deal with things, let's see how it works.

I want to say sorry to my sister, because you know what, I didn't know what she was going through, hell, I still don't know what she's going through, but she needed somebody to be there for her, and I bailed out. I really wish I could change that, but as hard as I try, I can't. I'm sorry.