I love how my memories tend to be random. My mother's voice msg sent flashbacks racing through my mind and I must say, I am happy where she is today.
As I lay on the floor of a living room in a three bedroom apartment in the bowels of Hempstead, I want nothing but for my mother to hurry home because when she's their, at least there's peace. At times....
Other times, I'm left hungry with nothing but books to reread and writings to keep me company on days I can't get away and others I'm not allowed. Either way, I kept myself busy with whatever I could find to keep me safe. Actually, more like sane, I felt myself slowly going crazy. At 15, I wanted to be committed. Later in my years, I've learned to choose my words wisely.
This particular day, my mother's girlfriend, who we were living with, decides to show me "something".
"Come here. You should see this," she beckons.
My weak and annoyed body made my way off the floor towards the bathroom. "LOOK!" I couldn't stop the tears from flowing as the bitch shows me a bag of my mother's needles and other contraband. I can't remember whether I was mad at her for showing them to me and taint my image of my mother or my mother for being such an idiot.
To this day, I will never know but I know this...I still hate the bitch.
No comments:
Post a Comment