The cold nights of Summer

Stereo Cassette

"Mom. If you're listening to this, I'm on the Brooklyn bridge of new york doing what I should have done a long time ago"

6:00am

The light through my window pierces my eyes, it's dusk. I pull off my bedsheets and get up from my bed. I walk out to my window to see the beautiful rise of the sun shining its glory and bright light all through the morning clouds. I stare at the sunrise to see the morning knock at our doors and I daydream to get out of this shithole town. I release a sigh as I see the cold morning's dragons breath come out of my mouth and rise up into the sky, birds are chirping into the distance and I watch them fly up so high. If only, if only I could be as free to fly away so high.

I slowly pull myself back in through the window and just lay on my bed with all arms open staring at my ceiling fan, thinking of where I could be and what I could be doing. Daydreaming again of how life is unfair.

Half an hour later I get up from the bed as I feel dizzy and disconnected to my reality, I put on my clothes, grab my heavy backpack and put it on. "I am tired of carrying all of this weight"- I said to myself and when I look back at it I think I wasn't talking about my backpack. I grab the door handle and I look to the left where I see my mother, drunk, passed out on the couch. I look at her, ever since dad left she's been like this. Bottles and bottles, cans on cans. Broken glass on the stained wooden floors. A drunk. An alcoholic. I feel such an emptiness when I look at her, I want to cry whilst I want to die. Or do I want her to die? I want my mother back, I don't know who this woman here is but she sure isn't my mother. Almost as if my father took with him my mother's soul and left her empty here. Once upon a time, she was loving. Once upon a time, her smile healed my every sadness, my every wound. Oh mother, who have you become?

"I've broken myself, I've had enough of whatever life has put me through I can't deal with it anymore. I couldn't... deal with you anymore. I loved you. I loved you so much. And then you gave up on me when I needed you the most. I've always said that I hated you but deep down I loved you. Notice how it's past tense. You should have gotten the memo about now."

I left my house, this nasty hellhole that I call home. But home is not a place, home is a people. Home is a person. A someone I can count on. A someone I love, or a someone I will love. Feels like a lifetime just trying to get by without dying inside. A shoulder to cry on. 

 I felt the cold rush of the morning get to me as I'm only wearing a t-shirt and jeans. I wear around my neck, the necklace that my father gave to me when I was three years old. I hate it so much, but I have worn it since he left. 2 years ago.  I'm walking to school today, I hate taking the bus. Living in the white neighbourhood as a Latino already gets you weird looks on their own but adding to the fact that you have been left by your father and your mother is an alcoholic has an effect to these sorts of dynamics. I have never had friends or anyone close to me through life, no-one has ever liked me. I've always been treated differently because of how my life has been. 

As I'm walking to school I lookout up to the sky, whatever is up there if it can help me. Please. Please. Please help me. I had lost track of time and where I was going but none the less, I am in school. I look around at the nothingness, the emotionless children slowly dying of the depressing regime of school. I go to my locker, preparing for math. I've never had time to play around with other kids or do any "normal" kid stuff, so to escape my parents and the real world, school work was the easiest method to do so without spending the small sum of money i could get. We've always been poor, my dad wasn't the most hard-working nor was my mother, which led to my father getting his hands into dirty businesses.

Math has always been easy for me, and my teachers have always had an easy job teaching me. When I look back at why I study, it's to fulfil my life plan; get money, move out, as fast as you can. As I'm doing math and listening to my music, a teacher approaches me. "We have news for you, it's about your family"

"I wish I could thank you for the memories, but I can't. Living with you wasn't easy, you living without me would be better. You wanted them to get rid of me. That's ok. I don't need anyone to get rid of myself. Goodbye, mother."

TO BE CONTINUED...