A Tragic Gift From Mr. S.

When I was 11 I realized I had a gift. I had just gotten my own T.V. in my room and was flipping through the channels. I happened to stop on an older movie and felt compelled to watch it. It started with a poorly executed sword fight scene. The two main characters in that scene seemed to truly dislike one another. I couldn't help but laugh when one of them had mentioned biting his thumb at the other and then proceeded to do so. I finished the movie that was about two lovers who epitomize the phrase "love at first site," tragically due to genealogical baggage they perished in order to serve a higher purpose. I left that movie with a sense of purpose. I dreamed everyday that maybe I would find that someone who would capture me the way Romeo & Juliet captured each other. There was no escape in their admiration and love for each other.

Being inspired by this movie I looked it up. It turns out it was done by William Shakespeare. Now I'm not stupid. I'd heard the name before and my parents talked about literature, but I had never sat down to read anything of his. I went to the library and picked up several of Shakespeare's books. For the first time I was reading Shakespeare. My parents knew I never read much, mostly because they didn't consider comic books and graphic novels literature. When they saw I was reading shakespeare they were quite skeptical. They insisted it was too hard for anyone to follow, they figured I was just making my own interpretations to what the story was really about. This bothered me but I read book after book. It wasn't until I discussed Shakespeare with my intelligent grandfather (mother's side) in front of my parents that they found out I understood everything. I understood Shakespeare's language better than our current English. This amazed them, after that, they left me alone, except to brag to everyone else of course.

I still love Shakespeare, I still read Shakespeare, I still dream Shakespeare. I love Romeo & Juliet but it was not my favorite. Perhaps I understood the story of Macbeth the most. I found it to be the most human, the realist, as if Mr. S. was witnessing tragedy in its truest sense. I find myself gravitating to the characters in Macbeth because each has flaws concerning power, lies, and mistrust. Those sins weigh heavier on them throughout the story and finally lead them to their untimely deaths. Why is it I understand tragedy so well? Am I a tragic figure in my own life's story? I could do what most my age couldn't. My parents kept R rated movies from me as well as a few playboys I tried to hide here or there, don't ask me how they found them hidden in my comic books. Perhaps, instead, they shouldn't have let me read such tragic literature at a young age. It always made me feel different but not special. I felt like I could see the human condition for what it was, that is a terrible thing to have on your mind going into middle school. I would look at the other students living in the now, only thinking about what is cool or good for them at the moment. I lived in the back corner, staring out the window, thinking, contemplating, dreaming of tragedies to come.