PuristLove
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Dec 11, 2000
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- 1,694
Leaving Rockford
by Eric West
As I open up the hatch of my car, trying to figure out how to fit an entire apartment into this tiny space, I realize that its gotten quite a few dents and scratches in my eight months here. Nowhere near as many as my soul has though.
"Eight months this time," I can't believe I couldn't even last a year here. I'm disgusted with myself but I go on packing. First the heavy stuff; the television, the stereo equipment. I've packed all this stuff up so many times it feels like I'm a pro at this. A specialist of packing a bunch of shit into a small vehicle.
A career run-away.
I strip the sheets away from the mattress in my room. The mattress can't go but that's alright. Its worn out and old, quite uncomfortable. Running my hand over it brings back painful memories. I sit down in the floor and curl up into a ball. I've made so much love in this room, had so many good times, I can't believe it turned into this nightmare.
My hopes were so high on my way here. Leaving behind small town life for the big city. A friend waiting for me. "Led by God to the next adventure," is what my phone call to my mother had said.
Well it had certainly been an adventure. I wasn't attractive enough for my "friend" and she abandoned me after two days. Not that she could have done anything for me anyways. Promises made over the internet turned out to be lies. She didn't have money saved up, didn't even have a job, and she lived with her grandmother. There was no place for me in her life, and I don't think she ever even thought I would actually come. Well, my fault for being so hopelessly naive.
I force myself to stand up and toss garbage bags full of clothes out the window. The sky is dark and ominous, as it always is in this forever ghetto of a place. Rockford, Illinois has to be the closest thing to living in a post-Nuclear Holocaust environment on Earth.
One of the hundreds of homeless is outside, digging through my trash for aluminum cans. "Hey come here," I shout. He looks at me like I've lost my mind. Pulling a five dollar bill out of my pocket I wave it in the air outside the window, "Here, for you."
He comes over now. The stains on his shirt are so many in number its impossible to tell what the original color was. Tired eyes gaze at me as a tired body stretches up to the windowsill to take the money. "God bless you sir," he says in a way that tells me he's said it to a thousand strangers.
"Just repaying a favor," I tell him. He nods and walks away, too lost in his sadness to even try to comprehend what I meant by that. I wish I could do more for him, so much had been done for me.
After being deceived in the city of Rockford I had done what any white, small-town kid would have done when he had no money and little gas left. I'd driven into the suburbs, found a library with computers and used the internet to contact people back home. "Please send me money," I'd asked in an email. That night, parked in the alley behind the library, I'd felt moderately safer falling asleep than in the city.
The next day as I had logged into AOL to see what the answer was the librarian had come over. "Excuse me Sir, We can't allow you to send or receive emails here. The library computers are for important purposes like research."
I had tried to explain my situation to her but I guess being eighteen, homeless and scared was not an important reason to break the No Emails rule.
Frustrated, I had gone outside to smoke a cigarette.
A couple of girls, twelve years old or younger had come over, "Hey man can we get a square from you?"
Once I figured out that they wanted a cigarette I handed one to each of them. I was never one for moralizing.
"So why was that librarian bitchin' at you about?" They had asked. I told my story. We had talked until they had to be home for dinner.
I went to Burger King and tried to shave and wash as well as I could in the small sink, terrified that someone would come in and witness my shame. Then I'd gone back to the alley for another night of sleep.
The kitchen door slamming shut breaks me away from the painful memories. "Eric, why are you leaving?"
Shit, she wasn't supposed to be home. That was why I had waited for this hour to begin packing. I didn't want to have to explain myself to anybody. Didn't want to have to say any Goodbyes. I was never one for those, just couldn't ever do it right. I was a note-leaver.
Her pretty head came into my room as she cracked the door a little. "Eric, why are you leaving?" She was a little overweight but it was all still baby fat. She would grow into it and grow up to be a beautiful woman. If this hell she lived in didn't consume her first.
"Why aren't you in school?" I asked her, a little defensive. Unable to answer her question.
"We skipped today to smoke weed," she tells me nonchalantly.
"Brandi, you need to go to school. Social Services is gonna take you away from your mom and put you in Juvie if you don't," I jump down her throat, forgetting all about my own failings.
"You dropped out of school," she retorts.
"Yeah and my life is shit," I'm angry now.
"Look forget it," I change the subject, "Come help me load my car."
We toss the garbage bags into the hatch, filling it up. Then we fill the back seat. We work in silence, me afraid of her questions, her afraid of my answers.
"What am I doing?" I ask myself, "Abandoning this little girl who had saved my life."
The morning after the email mishap, I'd awoken to one of the little girls from the library standing outside my car arguing with an old lady, "I told you there was a homeless boy living here."
"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry I didn't believe you. Well what do you want me to do about it?"
"Can't we give him some food?"
And they had. A couple of sandwiches, a pepsi, some chips. It was the most substantial food I'd had in a couple of days and I got sick from wolfing it down to fast.
Already aware of how idiotic my story made me sound I had purposely embellished it when I told it to her mother.
"My mom kicked me out of the house, there was nothing for me in our town, so I came here," I informed her.
All my life I've been both blessed and cursed to have that cute little boy look. This time it had worked to my advantage. I was given food, a place to stay, an opportunity to build a life for myself.
And I had, typical of myself, worked very hard at it for a while. I managed to save up the money for an apartment, keep my car note paid, and get a raise.
Unfortunately, the girl, her mom and her sister lived with an older relative. They were very dependant on her, and hated it. So they begin to view me as a way out of their situation. It wasn't long before the four of us, and the older sisters baby were living in a small house deep in the worse part of the city. I've just never been any good at saying no, especially when I feel an obligation.
That was when the hell started. The girl's mom was an alcoholic and crack-head, she'd tried to quit but hadn't lasted long. Money began to disappear from my hiding places. Pawnable things started vanishing too.
But the theft wasn't the worst part. I changed the locks on my bedroom door, found better hiding places for my money. I dealt with it.
As she fell more deeply into her addictions her personality warped. She was less reliable for things like rent and bills. She began to attack us for no reason at all as if she could get high on arguments when there were no drugs available.
She would disappear for days at a time, leaving me the responsibility of getting both her kids off to school and babysitting the infant.
My work began to suffer. I took to calling in sick, slacking off on the job. Smoking more weed.
Then the unthinkable happened. The one person holding me there, the girl I had begun dating after what seemed like an eternal crush, cheated on me with her ex-boyfriend. It was just hours after the first time I had said "I love you."
So here I was, emotionally destroyed, with no network of family or friends to seek comfort from, living in a harsh environment amongst a culture I had no familiarity with. So I did what I always do in times of trouble, I decided it was time to move on.
Brandi tossed the last bag into the passenger seat in the front of the car, "I guess your going now."
"Yeah, I guess so. I'll take one last look around the house to see if I missed anything."
We walked into the kitchen and I poured a glass of coke. I lit a cigarette and pretended to do a walk through of the house. It was entirely unnecessary. I had been planning this for days and everything had already been located and positioned for any easy escape. I just hated saying goodbye.
"So why are you leaving?" She asked it one more time and I could feel the tears welling up in her soft brown eyes. Eyes already far too used to being lied to and disappointed. I hated to be another brick in the wall. One more on a long list of betrayals that wouldn't end with me.
I wanted to tell her I would stay.
I wanted to at least tell her the truth. That I couldn't handle her mom's chemical dependency anymore. To explain how I had been devastated by Tosha's infidelity. I wanted to say I couldn't pretend anymore, that I was a white boy from a small suburb and not a thug. That I just wasn't cut out for the street. That when things got tough I always ran away from the pain. Even if it hurt people.
But I couldn’t.
"I just found out I have a baby back home that I need to go take care of. I never knew she was pregnant and she can't raise my son on her own," I lied.
"You've got a son?" she was surprised.
"Yeah, his name is Joshua."
"So your gonna bring him up here to visit?" She asked. I knew that she knew I was lying.
"Of course, I'll be back before summer. I'll let you take my baby out in the stroller and show him off. I'll be back."
With that I hugged her. I could feel her stiffening up already. Turning off one more person in her life. Letting go of another loved one.
I got in my car and left, without ever saying goodbye, never to return.
http://www.literaryclearinghouse.com/ericwest.htm
------------------
What is freedom? I don't know anymore. Its something so far removed from anything I've ever experienced that I'm not sure I can even comprehend it. Make Freedom A Reality
http://www2.bluelight.ru/ubb/Forum31/HTML/000557.html?reload=0
by Eric West
As I open up the hatch of my car, trying to figure out how to fit an entire apartment into this tiny space, I realize that its gotten quite a few dents and scratches in my eight months here. Nowhere near as many as my soul has though.
"Eight months this time," I can't believe I couldn't even last a year here. I'm disgusted with myself but I go on packing. First the heavy stuff; the television, the stereo equipment. I've packed all this stuff up so many times it feels like I'm a pro at this. A specialist of packing a bunch of shit into a small vehicle.
A career run-away.
I strip the sheets away from the mattress in my room. The mattress can't go but that's alright. Its worn out and old, quite uncomfortable. Running my hand over it brings back painful memories. I sit down in the floor and curl up into a ball. I've made so much love in this room, had so many good times, I can't believe it turned into this nightmare.
My hopes were so high on my way here. Leaving behind small town life for the big city. A friend waiting for me. "Led by God to the next adventure," is what my phone call to my mother had said.
Well it had certainly been an adventure. I wasn't attractive enough for my "friend" and she abandoned me after two days. Not that she could have done anything for me anyways. Promises made over the internet turned out to be lies. She didn't have money saved up, didn't even have a job, and she lived with her grandmother. There was no place for me in her life, and I don't think she ever even thought I would actually come. Well, my fault for being so hopelessly naive.
I force myself to stand up and toss garbage bags full of clothes out the window. The sky is dark and ominous, as it always is in this forever ghetto of a place. Rockford, Illinois has to be the closest thing to living in a post-Nuclear Holocaust environment on Earth.
One of the hundreds of homeless is outside, digging through my trash for aluminum cans. "Hey come here," I shout. He looks at me like I've lost my mind. Pulling a five dollar bill out of my pocket I wave it in the air outside the window, "Here, for you."
He comes over now. The stains on his shirt are so many in number its impossible to tell what the original color was. Tired eyes gaze at me as a tired body stretches up to the windowsill to take the money. "God bless you sir," he says in a way that tells me he's said it to a thousand strangers.
"Just repaying a favor," I tell him. He nods and walks away, too lost in his sadness to even try to comprehend what I meant by that. I wish I could do more for him, so much had been done for me.
After being deceived in the city of Rockford I had done what any white, small-town kid would have done when he had no money and little gas left. I'd driven into the suburbs, found a library with computers and used the internet to contact people back home. "Please send me money," I'd asked in an email. That night, parked in the alley behind the library, I'd felt moderately safer falling asleep than in the city.
The next day as I had logged into AOL to see what the answer was the librarian had come over. "Excuse me Sir, We can't allow you to send or receive emails here. The library computers are for important purposes like research."
I had tried to explain my situation to her but I guess being eighteen, homeless and scared was not an important reason to break the No Emails rule.
Frustrated, I had gone outside to smoke a cigarette.
A couple of girls, twelve years old or younger had come over, "Hey man can we get a square from you?"
Once I figured out that they wanted a cigarette I handed one to each of them. I was never one for moralizing.
"So why was that librarian bitchin' at you about?" They had asked. I told my story. We had talked until they had to be home for dinner.
I went to Burger King and tried to shave and wash as well as I could in the small sink, terrified that someone would come in and witness my shame. Then I'd gone back to the alley for another night of sleep.
The kitchen door slamming shut breaks me away from the painful memories. "Eric, why are you leaving?"
Shit, she wasn't supposed to be home. That was why I had waited for this hour to begin packing. I didn't want to have to explain myself to anybody. Didn't want to have to say any Goodbyes. I was never one for those, just couldn't ever do it right. I was a note-leaver.
Her pretty head came into my room as she cracked the door a little. "Eric, why are you leaving?" She was a little overweight but it was all still baby fat. She would grow into it and grow up to be a beautiful woman. If this hell she lived in didn't consume her first.
"Why aren't you in school?" I asked her, a little defensive. Unable to answer her question.
"We skipped today to smoke weed," she tells me nonchalantly.
"Brandi, you need to go to school. Social Services is gonna take you away from your mom and put you in Juvie if you don't," I jump down her throat, forgetting all about my own failings.
"You dropped out of school," she retorts.
"Yeah and my life is shit," I'm angry now.
"Look forget it," I change the subject, "Come help me load my car."
We toss the garbage bags into the hatch, filling it up. Then we fill the back seat. We work in silence, me afraid of her questions, her afraid of my answers.
"What am I doing?" I ask myself, "Abandoning this little girl who had saved my life."
The morning after the email mishap, I'd awoken to one of the little girls from the library standing outside my car arguing with an old lady, "I told you there was a homeless boy living here."
"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry I didn't believe you. Well what do you want me to do about it?"
"Can't we give him some food?"
And they had. A couple of sandwiches, a pepsi, some chips. It was the most substantial food I'd had in a couple of days and I got sick from wolfing it down to fast.
Already aware of how idiotic my story made me sound I had purposely embellished it when I told it to her mother.
"My mom kicked me out of the house, there was nothing for me in our town, so I came here," I informed her.
All my life I've been both blessed and cursed to have that cute little boy look. This time it had worked to my advantage. I was given food, a place to stay, an opportunity to build a life for myself.
And I had, typical of myself, worked very hard at it for a while. I managed to save up the money for an apartment, keep my car note paid, and get a raise.
Unfortunately, the girl, her mom and her sister lived with an older relative. They were very dependant on her, and hated it. So they begin to view me as a way out of their situation. It wasn't long before the four of us, and the older sisters baby were living in a small house deep in the worse part of the city. I've just never been any good at saying no, especially when I feel an obligation.
That was when the hell started. The girl's mom was an alcoholic and crack-head, she'd tried to quit but hadn't lasted long. Money began to disappear from my hiding places. Pawnable things started vanishing too.
But the theft wasn't the worst part. I changed the locks on my bedroom door, found better hiding places for my money. I dealt with it.
As she fell more deeply into her addictions her personality warped. She was less reliable for things like rent and bills. She began to attack us for no reason at all as if she could get high on arguments when there were no drugs available.
She would disappear for days at a time, leaving me the responsibility of getting both her kids off to school and babysitting the infant.
My work began to suffer. I took to calling in sick, slacking off on the job. Smoking more weed.
Then the unthinkable happened. The one person holding me there, the girl I had begun dating after what seemed like an eternal crush, cheated on me with her ex-boyfriend. It was just hours after the first time I had said "I love you."
So here I was, emotionally destroyed, with no network of family or friends to seek comfort from, living in a harsh environment amongst a culture I had no familiarity with. So I did what I always do in times of trouble, I decided it was time to move on.
Brandi tossed the last bag into the passenger seat in the front of the car, "I guess your going now."
"Yeah, I guess so. I'll take one last look around the house to see if I missed anything."
We walked into the kitchen and I poured a glass of coke. I lit a cigarette and pretended to do a walk through of the house. It was entirely unnecessary. I had been planning this for days and everything had already been located and positioned for any easy escape. I just hated saying goodbye.
"So why are you leaving?" She asked it one more time and I could feel the tears welling up in her soft brown eyes. Eyes already far too used to being lied to and disappointed. I hated to be another brick in the wall. One more on a long list of betrayals that wouldn't end with me.
I wanted to tell her I would stay.
I wanted to at least tell her the truth. That I couldn't handle her mom's chemical dependency anymore. To explain how I had been devastated by Tosha's infidelity. I wanted to say I couldn't pretend anymore, that I was a white boy from a small suburb and not a thug. That I just wasn't cut out for the street. That when things got tough I always ran away from the pain. Even if it hurt people.
But I couldn’t.
"I just found out I have a baby back home that I need to go take care of. I never knew she was pregnant and she can't raise my son on her own," I lied.
"You've got a son?" she was surprised.
"Yeah, his name is Joshua."
"So your gonna bring him up here to visit?" She asked. I knew that she knew I was lying.
"Of course, I'll be back before summer. I'll let you take my baby out in the stroller and show him off. I'll be back."
With that I hugged her. I could feel her stiffening up already. Turning off one more person in her life. Letting go of another loved one.
I got in my car and left, without ever saying goodbye, never to return.
http://www.literaryclearinghouse.com/ericwest.htm
------------------
What is freedom? I don't know anymore. Its something so far removed from anything I've ever experienced that I'm not sure I can even comprehend it. Make Freedom A Reality
http://www2.bluelight.ru/ubb/Forum31/HTML/000557.html?reload=0
Fantastic