After work I came home and stole the internet off the lady down the street, it was the only connection seeing as my building was full of people who couldn’t afford it…
I guess it’s strange being in a house full of whores. I seriously mean whores the kind that wander around at night with their slutty red miniskirts and too tightly tied corsets and ankle breaking high heels.
Whores they bring their men home and you can hear them from a mile away I am not kidding, these are the ones with the pimps I feel bad for the dumb bitches.
Next on my list of people I love in my apartment buildings is the crack heads:
Druggies, the guys and girls on meth, cocaine, weed, LSD etc. I’m sure there were people I the building complex that mixed up different drugs to create new ones I heard a rumour one guy created a drug which he called FDP. I only really met one, he broke into my apartment to steal some cash, he was god awful looking and smelling. He had scabs over his face and body his clothes smelled like urine and sweat and he didn’t brush his teeth ever, his skin had turned a yellowish colour and was dry.
As he grabbed hold of my arm I could feel skin flake off and whatever was left of his hair fall onto me, the smell of his breath was vomit inducing and he kept talking in as if I knew what he wanted.
“Got any Con, hey got any? C’mon baby I kow you have it, ill give you something for it..money, sex, anything you want con”
I felt his dry flaky hands reach into my ass pocket and I slapped him across the face, Jesus Christ I slapped him hard because he flew to the ground and whimpered. Without proper food, water or care he was shrived into something that could never be called human. I tried to call the cops, but the phones were always dead around here and I always fucking forget that.
Even as I picked up the white plastic he ran towards me again, it was useful in a sense; I tossed it at the druggy’s face and heard him tumble to the ground crying in pain I felt proud.
So I’ve only felt proud once.
I felt sorry for the poor bastard and wanted to put an end to his life, hell how could you not feel sorry for someone who is curled on your floor covering his scarred and scabbed face crying in pain?
I wanted to.
How badly I wanted to.
I just shoved him out and told him to fuck off. That had to be one of the most eventful days of my life.
Who else lives it this shit hole? Drunkards, they usually don’t ‘cause too much trouble one tried to knife the older lady upstairs I could hear her screaming so I ran up, saw Matthew my own next door drunk dirt bag holding a hunting knife over his head. Mrs. Johnson, the older lady, has a lot more in her apartment then I do; china plates, bar stools, toaster ovens, toast. I grabbed the closet object at hand, which sadly happened to be a beautiful hand painted plate and busted it over Matthews head, the white and blue shards of glass went everywhere and Mrs. Johnson was shaking in fear. That skinny runt fell to the floor faster than I had seen in my life, I stepped over his body and helped Mrs. Johnson up. She was small and now crying in fear I know she didn’t want to live here but she couldn’t afford much else and her children wouldn’t pay to give her a nice home. She thanked me kindly and I helped pat her cooking apron clean.
“Sorry about your plate”
“It’s ok, I’m glad the angels are watching over me, I’m so glad god sent you in time”
She patted my face, I could forgive her for calling me an angel her little mind was not working properly anyways the way I seen it back then she was going to die soon anyways.
She did too, three days after I helped her she died in her sleep, I was the one who found her, I had bought her a plate like the one I had broken when I walked in she didn’t answer so I walked into her bedroom and there she was fast asleep with a smile.
I still have that plate somewhere, now that I’m writing this I think I’ll go look for it later.
She left a will, as I said before she did have a lot more than I did, but that’s not saying a lot because I hardly have anything.
In her will she wanted to leave the angel a message: ‘don’t forget me’.
I still have that will too, god damn for someone who don’t have a lot I sure keep some stuff it’s been years now like I told you I’m 24 all this happened when I was 19.
The only other person in this complex is a young woman she’s 22 and has two children, Emily who is 2 and Jacob who is 4.
I babysit all the time for her, I never ask for money or anything just I ‘unno I guess I feel bad for her, she works two jobs and her husband left her when she found out she was pregnant.
I take them out a lot for supper, not just the kids I take Rebecca out too.
I always tell her children that: “You have been the type of child who charms the lollipops off people”
Then I buy them each one lollipop. Thank god rent is cheap, seriously its 250 a month hell half the time I don’t pay seeing as the owner never comes around to check anything.
Thinking about it maybe I should live with my mother, she lives in New Jersey after her and my father divorced she got together with another guy.
Maybe I have mommy issues.
I never write/email/call hell I never try to contact her. Maybe I should?
No she never even really gave me much attention as a child; then again communication works both ways. I’m not going to waste my goddamn day thinking and arguing to myself if I should call my betraying bitch of a mother.
Plus I’m exhausted, thinking about how I actually help people and give a damn makes me depressed, no one really cares about me so I don’t see why I give a shit about them.
Wow it sounds as if I want to die….Hardly even that I want to live, and for fuck sakes I’m going to.