I was swimming in grey, swimming in grey

My youth may be summed up like this: I was a wanderlust with an unhealthy beguilement for bunnies and gas huffing. It was a youth fraught with disturbing dreams and lugubrious days.
I reminisce on my past because my sister is applying for a position in which she needs to submit a page of creative writing; thus she turned to me to provide her with that page. I have not written anything remotely creative in the past year save a short screenplay with my confrere Dale; therefore, I had to scavenge through my prolific high school era (and to a lesser extent the U of T depression of 05/06) and uncover something worthy for Jena's submission. I logged onto my old computer, dug up some graffiti stained notebooks and was overwhelmed with material.
Now, my grade school days were met with much chorlericness, cynicism, and an anti-everything attitude. These adjectives may not be entirely obsolete towards my current persona, but I am nowhere near the dark abyss I was treading years ago. During this dark period I prominently wrote screenplays. I found circa thirty screenplays on my computer; half of those incomplete and with themes and ideas so peculiar and convoluted they have become inexplicable to the author. The material that is comprehensible is black and incongruous and by no means appropriate for any official submission. Thankfully I no longer resonate with these drafts; however, I must commend myself for such creativity and motivation to write as much as I did. I lived with thunderstruck fantasy and dreams with chimeras skulking about my mind. Whatever happened to those days? I was flooded with ideas daily and was forced many-a-time to ignore lessons and scribble furiously at some spanking idea which would become my magnum opus. I found a certain but limited blithe with these ideas and escaped into a woolgathering world. Looking back I see my writing wasn't so terrible and maybe my self-deprecating fastidiousness was unfounded. But I have not seen this old world for some time. I am now purely confounded. I have nothing left to say now except this: Everything is just far too real for a fabricated man.