I am Rob Geis; a simple guy, not too exquisite. I was also a pretty decent writer before things went south; although the measly royalties from my book sales would tell you otherwise... Heh... Guess people just aren't into interesting stuff anymore. Most of them would prefer to go online and search up cat videos to pass the time instead.
I was never the most intelligent guy at my school. More of the quiet loner that was known for "raging," as the guidance counselor called it, whenever someone annoyed me too much. There was even a case where I nearly killed someone for cutting me. Go figure that some jerk pulls a knife on me and the anger-management kid gets all the blame for starting a fight. Typical. So I had problems, I'm over it. Sorta. But I've learned that no matter where you are, society will only teach you loneliness and uselessness, along with violence and insults. Pretty much dumb jock 101 every hour, on the hour.
So did I care about society? Hell no. I managed to survive without anyone's help...well...I almost did. You see, I never had a good connection with my mother, and my father barely knew I existed. The only companion I ever had in my life was this stuffed animal; it was a silvery pony just a little bigger then my hand, with only a little wear showing for its age.
"Seriously, a pony. What are you, a little girl?" is what I guess you are thinking. Well maybe if you can say that to my face I'll give you an answer... jerks. It was a present from my grandfather and he didn't know what I liked, so he decided to send me a girly toy, but with awesome style. Silver, as I called her, had been my first and only toy since. Looking back, it wasn't the most creative of names, but lay-off. I was five and atleast knew how to pronounce words longer than one syllable. I took good care of her and learned how to properly clean her up. Her body was a radiant silver color, still shining after these 21 years, and her mane was of a pure, majestic white. Most normal people would've simply combed that mane so there weren't any tangles, but I took the scissors to it and gave her a badass do; well, badass by my terms. It was slightly curled on the top, bending over her right ear, but showing the entirety of the left one. That patch going over the ear kind of spiked slightly at the end.
The front legs seemed lame, the chest was too visible, but the rear legs were perfect. I even went and got her a mark sown on both flanks of her legs. It was the family crest; a silver ingot surrounded by two blue crystalline leaves, but with a small space up top and below, sewn there. I was so happy at that time but people still found me weird, even though I was just six.
My grandfather was the owner of an oil company and fabrics industry at the time. He had his time cut-out for him, but I'll never forget the days where I got to play with him when I was little. However, as the years went by, we grew more and more distant, and this distance...