Throughout my time spent in jail apparently my father put himself in rehab. I’ll admit my father is not a bad guy; he's just done some bad things then again.
Haven’t we all?
So I decided to visit him, screw visiting hours I demanded they let me see MY father and so they did.
He was dressed in a clean outfit.
"Papa." he turned looking at me, his blue eyes smiled at me as he walked towards me.
"Con, My angel." he always said that, and it killed me. 'My angel.’ I'm far from an angel; in fact I’m the furthest from an angel, and even further then Satan himself. My father’s name is Damien Smith, he really is a nice guy besides the (or what use to be the) drug withdrawal, drug rages he went through. "Where have you been?" I turned to play with my fingers, hell I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
I mean how bad would it be to say, 'Hey dad went to jail, sorry I couldn’t visit because me being in jail and all...' Yeah, not taking that road. "Works been busy, looking for a new place to live. Hell I didn’t even know you were in here, old man."
He looked down; maybe that wasn’t the best road. Did I make it seem as if I was ignoring him? "I was in jail..." I muttered
"I know."
"Of course you did." I said sounding slightly frustrated.
I really hate it when people ask where you were and they already know the answer, maybe they want to see if you are really trustworthy.
The room was quiet, deathly silence filled each and every hall; it was so quiet I could hear my own heartbeat...
Ok that was a stretch, maybe so quiet I could hear my father breathing."How long are you in here for, old man?"
"Until I'm clean... or I die."
"Die?" I asked sounding confused, I know death, and I know it well. But even so I always asked myself what is "death"? Medical science shit says it’s when a human no longer breathes or their heart stops.
But even after a person is considered dead, could they still be living? Think about it maybe they are being reborn possibly, maybe something like angels can come and take them to a heaven maybe some sort of personal paradise.
Maybe they wander around like ghost, not really searching for anything; just wanting to make sure there family is safe.
"Death comes for us all; most of us know when our time is up. We ignore it, sometimes you can feel when another is about to pass..." He grabbed my hand lightly and I could feel it, this aura of darkness and it scared me so I pulled back.
"Fuck dad, don’t scare me like that! You’re not going to die, you’re getting help now and get over your silly goddamn ideas that you going to die. Because you’re not, I won’t let you die, I need you..."
He looked at me with a smile and reached into his dresser, he took out a brown leather book and shoved it into my arms. "May God be with you, my angel. My Con, stay safe."
Two male staff came in telling me I had to leave, I really didn’t have a choice so I said my goodbyes and left. Down the hall I could hear a female patient screaming and several staff running. "Agony! Agony! Daughter of Satan, have mercy!"
Agony? Daughter of the Devil? I could only imagine the types of drugs she was on: LSD, Heroin, Cocaine, Meth.
Outside the air was cool, not cold and brisk but cool. My dad tapped on the window and waved me off.
The streets of New York are always packed full of people, all different kinds too. Short, tall, thin, fat, rich, poor, kids, elderly all kinds. It annoys me, I never truly believed I fit into this world, it was a weird thing.
Tuesday, 29 November 2011
Tuesday, 22 November 2011
There is only one happiness in life, to love and be loved...
The statement is false. Love is pointless, the people who love and the people who are in love are pointless to. The only happiness is knowledge, to know and in turn share what you know with the world.
But if you know that in the end love hurts why dive headfirst into it? That’s why the people who in love are pointless and stupid.
Just like Cops.
I was in jail for six months for flipping a cop the bird. The Judge charged it as assault of a cop (I swear the cop’s just took me to the worst Judge just to shove me in jail, stupid bastards I spit in their direction)
Of course he started it, put a dent in my bike, a nice one on the tail end to, he should be glad I didn’t key his car or do real damage. Pff, Jail for flipping a cop off. Not like I didn’t run like hell that guy chased me three blocks before I tripped and fell, what happened to the stereotypes of cops being lazy fat asses who drank coffee and ate doughnuts? If only.
The room was a mess, every morning I’d leave a small dead animal outside my cell for the officer to find. I stopped after day five, not because I ran out of animals but because the officer looked at me and said. “If you don’t give it up, this will be your breakfast every morning”. My phone calls were always monitored; I hardly made them to anyone though my fathers a drug addict since my mother divorced him and married another man and my friends were already plotting to break me out anyways so. And the meals well, I won’t be coming here for take-out anytime soon.
That reminds me, I haven’t even told you my name. Hello, call me Con. I’m 24 and live in New York, New York. I was born in a small town somewhere in Canada, for some reason I cant remember the name its almost like theres only one part of my childhood I can remember, but I was brought to and raised in the ‘big apple’.
I love supernatural beings, and I won’t mind sharing what I know with you all. I work in a tattoo parlour, which is strange because I hate needles. I don’t regret and no I don’t make mistakes, I don’t care what you say I don’t. I think we will get along well as long as you don’t screw around with my head and beliefs.
Now there is reason why I love these ‘being’s’. I guess I never had much as a kid, the only toy I really ever owned was a Tricycle I named Tric. Besides the toys I stole it was the only thing my father ever bought for me, cheap scape is he.
I remember being a kid, riding my Tric in the park with my father. One kid decided to stop me in my path, he thought he was so cool with his gang of friends, he must have been ten. "What's UP Con how's the view from DOWN there?" he leaned down and flicked my forehead. "Oh screw off Timmy!” I remember when screw off was the worst word I knew. So innocent.
Funny enough he did just that and left me alone, a few days later he came to my house and dared me to go into the woods alone as to this day I still don’t know why. I refused and he called me a chicken, I didn't care, then he told me if I didn't go he would steal my Tric, my most valuable item, so I did go. And I regret it since then, because they were in the woods too, trying to scare me by jumping out, and they did scare me and I screamed at them and I cried. That’s all I can remember.
I woke up in my bedroom that morning, the sun was bright and I went through my day like normal, Timmy was there, but he didn’t seem like the Timmy I remember though, shaky, jittery. He just grabbed my hand and kept saying ‘I’m sorry’ over and over we moved three days later. Since then I was determined to find out what happened, I know that whatever had happened it happened in those woods.
But if you know that in the end love hurts why dive headfirst into it? That’s why the people who in love are pointless and stupid.
Just like Cops.
I was in jail for six months for flipping a cop the bird. The Judge charged it as assault of a cop (I swear the cop’s just took me to the worst Judge just to shove me in jail, stupid bastards I spit in their direction)
Of course he started it, put a dent in my bike, a nice one on the tail end to, he should be glad I didn’t key his car or do real damage. Pff, Jail for flipping a cop off. Not like I didn’t run like hell that guy chased me three blocks before I tripped and fell, what happened to the stereotypes of cops being lazy fat asses who drank coffee and ate doughnuts? If only.
The room was a mess, every morning I’d leave a small dead animal outside my cell for the officer to find. I stopped after day five, not because I ran out of animals but because the officer looked at me and said. “If you don’t give it up, this will be your breakfast every morning”. My phone calls were always monitored; I hardly made them to anyone though my fathers a drug addict since my mother divorced him and married another man and my friends were already plotting to break me out anyways so. And the meals well, I won’t be coming here for take-out anytime soon.
That reminds me, I haven’t even told you my name. Hello, call me Con. I’m 24 and live in New York, New York. I was born in a small town somewhere in Canada, for some reason I cant remember the name its almost like theres only one part of my childhood I can remember, but I was brought to and raised in the ‘big apple’.
I love supernatural beings, and I won’t mind sharing what I know with you all. I work in a tattoo parlour, which is strange because I hate needles. I don’t regret and no I don’t make mistakes, I don’t care what you say I don’t. I think we will get along well as long as you don’t screw around with my head and beliefs.
Now there is reason why I love these ‘being’s’. I guess I never had much as a kid, the only toy I really ever owned was a Tricycle I named Tric. Besides the toys I stole it was the only thing my father ever bought for me, cheap scape is he.
I remember being a kid, riding my Tric in the park with my father. One kid decided to stop me in my path, he thought he was so cool with his gang of friends, he must have been ten. "What's UP Con how's the view from DOWN there?" he leaned down and flicked my forehead. "Oh screw off Timmy!” I remember when screw off was the worst word I knew. So innocent.
Funny enough he did just that and left me alone, a few days later he came to my house and dared me to go into the woods alone as to this day I still don’t know why. I refused and he called me a chicken, I didn't care, then he told me if I didn't go he would steal my Tric, my most valuable item, so I did go. And I regret it since then, because they were in the woods too, trying to scare me by jumping out, and they did scare me and I screamed at them and I cried. That’s all I can remember.
I woke up in my bedroom that morning, the sun was bright and I went through my day like normal, Timmy was there, but he didn’t seem like the Timmy I remember though, shaky, jittery. He just grabbed my hand and kept saying ‘I’m sorry’ over and over we moved three days later. Since then I was determined to find out what happened, I know that whatever had happened it happened in those woods.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)