Not my problem but a friend just posted this on Facebook

It is 10:44 pm. I take a quick glance from what could be the final post on my profile to the tv in front of me, its picture bleeding, two men grapple and punch each other in a fight in which the outcome has been long decided, all for the amusement of millions that wouldn't care if the two men in the match live or die. I close my eyes... It is about 10:15 pm. I am talking to one of my best friends, while messaging another. The voice on the phone tells me to try to look forward to the future and not to give up. I try to agree with him, but past experiences disagree. It is 11:03 pm. The fan making way too loud of a noise next to me. I look to the deck of cards used in an earlier game of solitaire on the table. I think back to a few weeks ago. I am at my friend's outdoor table. I claim to not have feelings. I even go as far as to say I only go with everybody places just for air-conditioning. I am dealt a bad hand as I raise my bet in a bluff. As the conversation gets a bit more personal, my friend asks me if I still care about- No, I cut him off. He says I am lying with my words and eyes. I lose the hand. It is 11:25 pm. As the crowd on tv chants for their anti-hero Randy Orton, my foot acts up like it has for the past 11 years. I am back in my childhood home. It is the summer before 3rd grade. I am 8. As I jump from the side into the pool, my foot breaks against a harsh metal chair. I am gasping for air in the pool. Seconds later, I am helped out by one of my parents friends. It is 11:38 pm. I see my student handbook in the distance. I had an argument with my father. A month ago I foolishly agreed to him helping me to pay for classes as long as I pay him back. I have to ask my grandfather for transportation to the college. The last time I was talking to the man for that amount of time comes rushing to my mind. It is February 10th. I am sitting next to my father and Adrian. This week has been horrible. My best friend has revealed something I should have but was too distracted at the matter at hand to. I have lost a job because of my father. I am seething in rage. My grandfather is accusing me of stealing 3000 dollars. I want to rip the face of the man sitting next to me (my father) to shreds. I head toward the door to leave after being kicked out. My brother calls me a pussy. Its little more than 2 months before we are near each other. It is June 21st 12:30 AM. Kory is spending the night. He opens his smartass mouth and says "Man my High School Diploma is awesome" and sarcastically asks where mine. I smile and tell him its up his ass. He gets mad and says that he deserves my respect. I laugh as if I was told a damn funny joke. He tells me that I am below him and can't get anything done. He says "Thats the reason why you dropped out of school, had to settle for a ged, that you couldn't handle the pressure at jobcorps. The reason why Joseph had to tell that one b-" I tell him if he finishes the sentence that I will see something through. He finishes it, smacks me and runs. I catch up to him and kick his face in. He is on the floor crying. It is fall of 2001. My mother puts us in the car and drives away from my fathers house one last time. I am crying. Kory is crying. I try to quietly consul my best friend. It now 1:30 am. As I watch an hour long match from the 90's between Shawn Michaels and Brett Hart as I finish what could be my last post here, I think of my friend that tried building my spirits up on the phone earlier. My friend that I was messaging. I think of my friend and his family that took me in. My friend that saw through my lie while playing poker. I barely have 100 friends on here, but most of you have been able to consul me at one point or another, and for that I thank you. Wether or not this status or even profile will be on your newsfeeds this time tomorrow is unpredictable, but if have taken the time to read this and put up with my crap on here throughout the years, you have my respect. I will always be there. Phone: ***-***-**** Email:*************@********.com You don't even need to know the kid to feel bad for him. I love you, Ian.