Alexander's Diary

Hungry Heart

" I'm sorry, I could never be
the man you always wished
for me to be."

Alexander sat hunched over his diary on the floor of his small bedroom, head leaning against his clean purple sateen sheets; his tears staining them. He tries his best to disappear into the end of his bed,while his hands smeared the frustration that he could no longer keep inside, all over his diary: blood staining the beige carpet, the pages of his diary ruined. All he can think of, is that it was too late now to change his mind.

His fear of letting go, fell numb, along with the fingers on his right hand. It felt like something was weighing his hand down. He could feel the throbbing pain within his arm dissipating, caused by the kitchen knife he used to tear it open. The edges of his wound were swollen, his blood changed from crimson arterial to  the strange inhuman like black Venous blood, spilling from the gash barely an inch away from his wrist. He could hear a small hand thump against the brown plywood door of his bedroom."Joe, go play now," his shaky, weak, voice attempted to reprimand the small boy away to his room. Alexander miscalculated that his baby brother would still be asleep, he could now hear small sobs from the other side; it was hard for him to determine the direction Joe's small footsteps made, while patting away on the hard tile floor in the hallway.

Alexander literally sat in his own filth: his blood smeared over his white tee and pajama pants, prints of his fingers decorating the end of his his bed. A small crimson ring formed around his most sacred treasure, his only friend, his diary. He could almost hear his father's voice, "We Lewdcalls must be strong. In order to survive. These white folks don't have no respect for us." He could see his father's conviction written all over his face; his strong shaven jawline, and his pearcing brown eyes as dark as his youthful melanic skin tone. Alexander could still feel the booming bass flow within him as his husky old man's authoritive voice rang out, attempting many times to pass his determination on to his children. To be a man; carrying on the Lewdcall legacy of running the only black owned restaurant on this side of Texas. Being the oldest son of the only black business owner in Myk, was a full time job to Alexander: learning the trade was mandatory, being who his father wished him to be, was mandatory. Keeping his family's name intact was his natural born duty. To feel the feelings he felt, to want to be this....abomination, would surely ruin his family's reputation. And a reputation was everything in a small town like Myk. Alexander kept his feelings as close as he could to his heart; his diary being the only friend he could trust.

But that was all over now.

Alexander's eyes skimmed his room, for what felt like could possibly be his last time: his desk still a mess with papers from school. Alexander couldn't deal with another day of Myk High. His mesh backpack on the floor, filled with heavy books. It was harsh being gay in Myk. Kids were notoriously bullied for it, and Alexander couldn't let himself, or his family, be shamed by such a title as "Faggot." He was a well known kid for his family's resteraunt Lewdcall's diner, or simply Lewdcall's; known as a very athletic and handsome guy, Alexander played sports and did his best to "play the part." But the stress of being attracted to other men was too great, and at only 17, Alexander couldn't possibly understand his perversions as anything more than an affliction. With only three weeks left till 18, Alexander couldn't take it anymore.

He sat bleeding, waiting for the end seemed like forever. As soon as his eyelids seemed to start getting heavy, the plywood door of his bedroom was smashed open: a heavy, older white man stood in the door way, holding some kind of cloth in his hands, wearing yellow gloves. Several other men rush in grabing him. He could feel them assessing his wound, but was too weak to really do anything but lay there. His head tilted back, his whole body feeling heavy. Alexander felt familiar warm hands grab his face, a kind voice spoke into his ear. It was his mother. Choking on her tears, he could hear her sweet voice in his ear, " Hold on baby. Don't you leave me, don't you dare. Mama here baby." Small rivulets of pain escape from Alexander's eyes. He could barely open them to see glassy button eyes staring at him from the doorway.

It was Joe.