Chapter Two:
The small recognitions of my childhood are sunkist, almost like the sensation of crisp, light drizzles of mist touching your skin as gently as possible during a melting summer in Texas. The memories made with my friends are exactly the same, some nights I just block everything out, put my playlist on full blast, not caring if the echos of “ohs” and “yeahs” stabs my ears, or the strums of cords, the bangs on the drums, and that bass, that bass just yawning in my ears; all together making that melody of streaming memories, they’re the notes being played, and very well they are indeed. Often I can’t help but have tears slowly roll down my cheeks, they avoid hurting me further, because they know I’ve had enough for the day.
I have never once though of going back, because I know why I made this decision. I understand very well that I am better off here, but it’s difficult living in a world in which you’re not welcome, where people act like they know your story, like they know you completely. My best of friends knew me, but even they could admit they never knew me completely.
Everyone is in some way alone, and always will be. Alone in the sense that some things no one can compel to understand, feelings that we can continue to write from when we know how to express ourselves till the day we pass, and still no one would understand, at least not completely. Sometimes we don’t even know ourselves, I don’t know myself at all, but I can at least imagine what I’m like in someone else’s eyes. One day, i’ll reflect on these nights, the one’s I wasted on tearing up over memories, memories parents tell us mean nothing, when they clearly know nothing of what’s going on. We can never expect them to know, because they will always, no matter what age you are, think you are ignorant.
Chapter Three:
After having walked Carla to her classes I always tried to keep my best of focus, that was until seventh period. We had English II Pre-Ap together, and never did our work, but somehow always passed through the knowledge of common sense. Amazing! Is it not? The one way of passing any class, besides math, history, and occasionally science. I remember always making it to that class before she, I’d sit there with any expression on my face that my moods so easily controlled whenever I knew I’d be expecting her. So easily, she knew every time. I could be wearing a smile, and somehow she would know if it were a true feeling or not, I could lie and tell her I’m okay, and she would so easily tell me, “No”.
But by God were those days in seventh period with her a blast regardless of my mood, I don’t understand how I’m making it without her to be honest. No, I’m wrong, I’m not making it without her, I’m simply surviving, feeding off the memories I’ve got, and will keep doing so until I see her, and the cycle will continue.
The worst part about being here I think is not being able to continuously express myself by doing the things I wanted. Walking in halls yelling at the top of my lungs with my friends, dancing stupidly alone and laughing at myself. Here, I could do the same thing, but no one to enjoy the simplicity of it, I can’t enjoy youth it seems. Which is clearly ironic due to the fact I moved to get away from an uptight space to only move to an even tighter one per say?
The drag of the evening swept in along with the harsh winds that blew in nothing but dirt, and pebbles, no hope whatsoever found within the naked eye. My mom at times arrived hours late, or too soon, and many times forgot about me. At first those days became a drag, sitting by the fountain waiting impatiently and talking on the phone with Andy, while I waited for her to arrive, or at least anyone just to take me back home. The best parts of those evenings was listening to his voice, and how easily I could have someone hypnotize me into this numb sensation. Any reality that hurt, or harsh coldness of rejection from my mother, he took it away. Not a day goes by when I don’t wish I could hear that bittersweet voice guide me back to the sanctuary I built within the walls him and I created in our kingdom of solitude. because I couldn’t bear to lose another safe place again. I just can’t seem to find it alone, I’m the lighter fluid, and he’s the wick of a strawberries & cream scented candle ready to ignite, and guide me to a magnificent journey. My dreams.
=Still more to come=
