anthonycq

: anthonycq; February 29th, 16:57

The night fell over me quicker than a cold caught a young boy. It was January, the nights grew soft and sensitive to the cold beginnings of the year and played victim. I was accompanied by my little mut and were were jogging together that evening.

The sudden change from sunset to streetlights had started kicking at our heels and we began to run home. We started our change of pace near 5th and Jackson before it got any later so we could pass the overpass with the bit of light that would creep over the mountains in the valley.

The wind blew past Ellie as she ran by my side and her long gold fur blew behind her eyes. Bits and pieces of fallen cheery blossoms riffled past our feet and her leash rattled in the air, sure to let anyone know who were in front of us that we were coming.

On both our sides laid a row of homes that lit and I could only imagine the warmth through my bones. We turned right at the next street and continued up Taylor, past the worn out yet occupied Foster’s Freeze, followed by Jack’s Bar where the inside was always dark and the drunks stood outside to have their smokes.

“Nah, nah, nah man.”

“Hey… Hey!”

Their voices trailed behind us, as did the lights from downtown. The wind increased from a gentle tap to a hard shove, and I ran quicker, Ellie followed. The overpass was about a quarter of a mile away but I figured we wouldn’t make it in time.

I motioned Ellie to come back to me and I sat on the edge of the sidewalk. Cars zoomed by my feet and I could feel the vibration on my toes. I ran my fingers through her scalp and scratched above her eyes, as her tongue sagged and her breath puffed in the air.

“Come on girl”

It’s more or less a straight shot while on Taylor. The consistency of the road and sidewalk merges with the overpass and when you walk over to the other side, the light becomes limited.

Ellie didn’t stop unless I stopped and she wouldn’t pass me. It came upon me that I’ve only had her for a few weeks yet she was so responsive and aware of my intentions, lucky I.

The incline to the top of the overpass is no major feat but after running a bit after not running at all for years, I had to take my time. One foot after another, slowly switching places as my hands pushed off my thighs with Ellie’s eyes on my sad, sad masculinity.

As we neared the top of the overpass, I began to shiver rather uncontrollably, yet I stared off into the freeway as all the headlights reflected off my face. The cold breeze pierced my soft brown cheeks and it sparked my energy so me and Ellie began our pace.

I hadn’t so much thought of the decline as I did incline and I stumbled past the air quicker than my feet could. Ellie’s momentum was enough to lift me clean in the air and THUD.

My body laid there in humiliation. I didn’t think anything when I rose my head because I was lost by what I saw. In the corner of my eye, crept an oddly shaped, small headed figure with eyes that could kill. It then occurred to me it was a cat, a blasphemous cat.

Before I had the chance to re-grip my grasp on Ellie’s leash, she was off, nearly chomping away at the tail of that poor cat. The more I tried to focus on them two, the more they faded away. I stayed there, closing my mouth because I hadn’t realized it was open. Now what was I to do?

I fixed myself to sit on my bum rather than lay on my chest like some fool. If I move from this spot, would she know where to find me? Surely not. If I search for her, there’s a chance we could both be lost. I looked all around me for an idea, but there was none. I decided to simply listen, then I’d react.

Where I sat, there was no light. A few slabs of concrete ahead of me rested a streetlight surrounded by an empty road and empty businesses who’s employers went home. The wind was persistent in tingling my nerves and sending chills up my spine. “How could you let go?”

The leaves of trees ran past my vision like people in a baseball stadium. The night stopped darkening and the moon hid behind the clouds. I felt horrible simply standing there, but what can I do? I repeated this question over and over to myself, the leaves, the wind, and the one, two maybe three cars that passed without looking my way.

“It’s only been three weeks, you could get another dog!”

“No, no, you can’t leave Ellie out here in the cold. She’d die from starvation, she could die from anything!”

I wasn’t fit for the night, my simple crew neck and sweats kept me warm while I jogged, but now I wasn’t going anywhere. The wind began to tempt my loyalty and my victories grew harder as the night grew colder.

“If there is no sign of her after 5 cars passed, you must go home”

I didn’t want to leave, so I put our luck and fate on cars. The time wasn’t exact to me, but regardless, very few cars pass this way after dark. I had to know I suffered a reasonable amount before simply giving up.

At first, I wanted to only listen, see, and be aware of Ellie more than ever before. The view around me became dull, my spine grew tired of chills, my legs ached, and my eyes grew heavy, yet I stood there.

As time passed, my interest shifted from the sounds of paws and barks to the sights of headlights. I wanted to go home. The simple and tiny chance of her return kept me static but my own burdens brought me to terms.

I turned and looked in the direction Ellie left to. The wind broke a branch off a tree and it fluttered by my sight, as I threw a rock as far as I could. The sound of the rock falling echoed through my ears and I knew I was alone.

The sidewalk was clear and the road was a mirror of it. I couldn’t have ran home even if I wanted to, there was just something that wouldn’t let me. I had to walk slow, every step I took stabbed the possibility of seeing dear Ellie in the heart.

My head tilted and my eyes were fixed on the sidewalk and the sidewalk only. I’d hear bushes shake and would jump at the thought it could be her, but it was the wind or cats trying to get warm.

There’s only so much space between certainty and uncertainty, it’s just what is in between that is difficult to address. I walked up the lonely steps to my door, empty handed.

The sky was spread out larger than normal so only one star shinned every few glances. I exhaled and placed my hand on the door knob of my flat. I hesitated to turn the knob, but the wind pushed me forward. The door opened and as my right foot landed on the wood floor, I shut the door behind me and I stood there, soaking in the silence of my own regret.

Silence.

: anthonycq; February 7th, 21:17

I watched another leaf float around the ground before I decided to step on it. The crack from the leaf threw me off my guard, it sounded as if I stepped on a cockroach. I looked under my brown oxfords for any mess, but none appeared.

I rubbed my hands together to create a spark of heat then slid them into my black top coat as I looked across the cool grey sky . The day would fade out any moment now. My eyes fell back down to earth and I made my way down the sidewalk of Washington and 44th St.

The sidewalk is a portrait of dull with absolutely no life besides mine. The sun dropped under the back hills and I was left with myself to guide me.

The orange leaves of change were piled up in big, multiple piles that is seemed almost fixed, but in a short second the wind would creep through. I kept my arms and pecs tense, but I was left victim to the virgin night. At least it wasn’t raining.

I looked to my left, then quickly to my right as I passed the intersection of Washington and 37th street, nobody was around. For a tiny second it felt as if this town were all asleep, or dead, and for that tiny second, I realized I didn’t care.

What was left of the sun was gone by the time I reached the other side of the sidewalk and with my back against the dim sun set, I brought out my wrist to see the time. Then it hit me again that I forgot my watch back at my apartment.

Well, I didn’t forget it, I more or less left it there. I didn’t want to keep track of time, and for once, I didn’t have to. I had just graduated from Louisiana State University and I decided the best way to spend my best day was without any plans or schedule. I would arrive at the ceremony, of course on time, then I planned to just not plan.

The ceremony was beautiful, everybody was dressed up and we all looked the same, but all so different. Today we all end our life that we once knew and begin a new one immediately, that’s why we’re all so proper and ready. But this was better than a funeral. I didn’t speak out too much, I did it through my pencil, so I was just smiled at, not really much more than that.

When I was about 17, my mother passed away from diabetes and my older sister moved to New York, but she isn’t doing too well. Neither am I, I suppose. Not one of us could afford a plane ticket for her to come today. I was the lucky one to get a scholarship, I don’t know how she got the money to leave. I never did ask, she knew how to survive.

I didn’t feel much when I received my degree and shook my Professor’s hand, I just wanted to know how my mother felt. There’s just some things that can’t be taught, but experienced, yet I cannot have one. I watched my fellow peers smile at their family and I watched their family smile at them, so I smiled too. Their happiness made me happy, I couldn’t allow anyone to see my emotions on my face. I didn’t want anyone to feel what I felt.

I sat there in my flourished seat with my cap and gown, and my mask of lies and watched my world pass me by. The words of a brighter tomorrow and the promises of a better day were the last words to echo through our ears, and I was off.

Everybody hugged each other goodbye for the last time, maybe in their lives. I folded my gown and placed my cap gently on top as I laid them on my seat. I didn’t want to take anything with me, I wanted to leave everything back here and start anew, but I needed my degree. That would be a waste of a few years, I would think.

As I continued down Washington, I began to feel bored of the constant view of nothing and leaves. My thirst for life told me to walk towards Capitol Lake. It wasn’t but another 10 blocks and the view was better than nothing.

I exhaled my breath when I made my decision and the fog from my mouth was all that was there to keep me company during this fine evening. The cool breeze in the air died down a bit and the random push of gust was more soothing than harsh.

I looked up at the stars as my legs worked on their own. My mind began to race about my mother, I couldn’t shake this thought, no matter what captivated my eyes.

The moon was becoming more and more vivid as the lake was nearing, I wasn’t more than another 3 blocks. I spotted the lights surrounding the lake and the benches never looked so comfortable. I didn’t speed my pace, I let my legs have their freedom and let my mind wander.

The lake isn’t too big in size, but the surroundings only enhance the view. There are Christmas-like lights on the trees surrounding the lake.The lights jacket the lake as the wind riffles the water, what a scene.

I walked to the back of the lake, on the opposite side of the entrance, just in case if anybody were to show up, I knew. I pulled my pants from the thighs up and sat my behind slowly onto one of the benches. I lifted my right leg and rested it on my left thigh. I placed my arms over my legs, and exhaled.

The world was more silent than I had ever heard it in my life and if I could, to this day, I wish to hear that noise again. This silence was no ordinary silence. I have wept away many days and in those days I have heard the silence of nothing, but was kept trapped with the thoughts I contain. I have heard the silence when love is lost and there’s nothing left to say. I have heard the silence when there’s nothing and absolutely no one around to make noise, and I am yet to hear the beauty I heard that night.

I couldn’t think a thought, I couldn’t miss a breath. My eyes were placed onto that water and the moon came alive off the surface, the beauty of picture was before my eyes and the breeze only made me realize that I was alive. I could only listen to nothing and be in awe, and that’s all I wanted.

Though my eyes were in a daze, my peripherals were still alive. I saw a shape, a figure coming near the lake. I watched as a girl with the gown I was wearing, bend down with her heels up and with her weight on her toes and she let the water run through her fingers.

I watched for a moment, she seemed to be alone. She had long brown hair and light brown skin. She wasn’t short, but she wasn’t too tall. I thought she was going to leave, but she rose up and walked over to one of the benches.

And she began to simply stare at the water.

I watched her, watch the water, and the surroundings around her, around me, didn’t matter anymore. I was stuck in wonder, awe had vanished, does she see what I see? Does she feel what I felt?

Then she turned to me.

And she simply began to stare at me, right into my eyes.

We stayed completely still for this moment of silence and the moon still danced off the lake, the water still walked with the wind, and we were comfortable. She smiled at me after our brief conversation of our sorrows, and she got up.

She turned around and left.

Her eyes were filled with tears, but she did not cry. After a moment to reevaluate what happened, was I able to realize that she didn’t care. She had her thoughts in her mind, though they will never be mine, she told me everything because she never saw me there.

Life.

: anthonycq; November 21st, 2011

The pitch black eve of morning hides everything in sight. The houses across the street are still and the morning wind causes the chimes in the backyard to play a dull tune. I lift up my brown coffee cup to my lips and sip gently as I stare out the slim opening through the curtains. The world is still asleep.

I take another slow sip and turn away from the window. I shuffle my feet over to the auburn kitchen tables and gently place my coffee cup on the edge. As I run my fingers through my hair, I continue down the hallway.

The small, short hallway cracks as my feet carefully switch positions, front and back. I stop, look down and stare at the mauve carpet in silence. The entire house cracks here and there and it’s because when the house was first built back in 1971 there was a thunderstorm and the entire aisle of unfinished homes in the neighborhood were drenched. The wood wasn’t replaced, only built over. So that’s why every now and then you hear a-

Crack

I open the bathroom door and turn on the lights. The bright light makes me squint as I stare at my face in the mirror. I stare for a little bit with no expression, no smile, no laugh. What have I become?

I cuff my hands under the faucet and splash the water upon my face, rub my eyes, and only pray that when I open them I’ll see who I once was.

But I don’t.

I stare again for a little bit longer, focusing on every mark on my face, every wrinkle, every spot, and every scar. My lips create the smile of a widow and I turn in disgust. I grunt and shut the light off behind me as I try to forget the image I see.

Crack

The white walls on the sides of the hallway support me as my hands trace the delicate, cold wood. As I look up from the hallway, the front door faces me, the living room is on the left of me and the kitchen is on the right. I have seen this sight so many times.

I pick up my coffee mug off the table and gently, slowly, and carefully glide my feet to the living room. The walls are filled with photos of my grandchildren, my children, friends and family and the empty spaces are only begging to be filled with memories. I lower myself to my chair whose blue, soft fabric catch me perfectly. I pose myself upright and I sip my coffee, once again.

The world around me is silent, but the occasional ringing of the chimes and the occasional crack only reminds me that nothing can be perfect.

As my eyes travel through time, I spot and stare at one photo. Maria.

My wife. My wife passed away about 6 years ago, I suppose it was from old age. I met her back in 1967 and we bought our first house together in 1971, and if I remember correctly… yes, yes it was this one. We were young, but not that young. We were getting older, but not that old. I was around 30 at the time, she was also around that age as well. I remember I met her at the disco, I couldn’t dance, but when I asked her to dance, she didn’t know that. I tried to play it off and be slick, but she knew right away. She didn’t leave and she didn’t frown upon it. She smiled. She smiled and she told me that she would teach me and we spent the entire night dancing slowly together, as the rest of the world ignored us. Nothing else mattered.

I wipe my eyes and sip my coffee.

“I miss you so much.” I whisper aloud because my mind can’t contain these words for much longer.

Crack

I turn away from the photo and place my left hand on the arm rest of my chair and push myself up, hoping I have enough strength. With my head down, I go to the kitchen and proceed to the sink. I turn on the faucet and rinse out my cup.

I stare at the water and it doesn’t take any shape until it lands in my cup. It has no place, until you give it a place. It starts out as nothing until you make it into something. I play with the water with my hands, watching it as it slips through the cracks of my fingers, and it gently disappears as I turn off the faucet.

I wipe my hands on my thighs and place them in my green robe. As I walk past the kitchen table to proceed outside the front door, I see a beam of light peek through the opening in the curtains. This is the time I despise the most, the day has started for everybody.

The golden brown doorknob turns as my fragile, vein infested hands struggle to grip it. I pull the door in and I walk out. The light breeze welcomes me and my white hair holds onto my head for dear life. I bend down to the smell the roses I’ve been maintaining for a few years, along with the other arrangements of white roses, red roses, and my wife’s favorite, Strelitzia, which is also known as the “bird of paradise flower”.
I walk back to the porch of my front yard and sit on the brown, wicker chair. I simply just watch the world. That’s the thing about life, it does not stop. It’s cliche, yes, but true, nonetheless. I watch the children pass and wave at me, like they do everyday. I smile, the biggest smile I can possibly smile, but it’s still a frown. I attempt to wave, but I can’t hold my arm up for too long.

I place my hands in my lap and I watch the grass grow.

There is no time when you’re stuck in your mind. There is no right, there is no wrong. There is only happiness and sadness, there is only regret and nostalgia. There is only what you allowed you to know. I don’t want to know anything anymore.

Today is like tomorrow, tomorrow is like today. I beg to open my eyes and dance with Maria once again, but I open my eyes to nothing but what I wish was there.

I don’t want to live in this world anymore. I have had enough.

The walls in my living room now will only be filled with the future, the past has already been seen once too many times. The love of my life is gone, my heart will never be complete.

But how many times have I thought this, how many times have I wanted to die? I am at the end of my life, my fragile body can barely walk on it’s own. I don’t want to feel this pain anymore.

I wipe my eyes once again, I smile because I have finally accepted the fact that I am going to die. I don’t want to die at the hands of life, I want to die in the hands of me and be held in the hands of Maria. I don’t want anything else. Nothing else matters.

I place my hands on my thighs and push myself up. I struggle with the doorknob for a few seconds, but it finally opens. I rush through and I pause in my tracks-

Ring

The phone rings and I hesitate to pick it up.

“Hello…?”

“Grandpa, are you coming to pick me up after school?”

“Oh, oh yes dear. Grandpa will be there”

“Okay, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I hang up and my hands tremble, my stomach turns. I stare at the picture of Maria and I cry and cry and cry.

There can only be room for one bird in paradise, and I’ll let you fly, my love. No matter the cost.

Pain.

: anthonycq; September 8th, 2011

I was never fond of big groups, I always thought that they attracted too much attention. I mean, why do you need 5 people around you when you don’t even truly know them.

I’d rather have one. Just one.

It’s always been Jonny and I. We went every where together.

When I got my first ass-kicking, Jonny kicked their ass. When I dislocated my shoulder from falling off the roof of my house, Jonny popped it back in. When I thought it was a bad idea to get on the roof, Jonny convinced me otherwise.

Actually, I remember this one time more than any other time. We were playing football in the middle of our street. A long, narrow, lonely street and only few cars drove through. There were these tall, brown, dirty housing projects behind my backyard and they were up high enough to the point where they could see the street. Here we are, playing a good ole’ game of football when-

BAH BAH BAH!

I turned to look at my side because I felt like I got stung by a bee, but I just kept feeling it. Over and over. I look to Jonny and I see his face, oh his face. His slick back hair was messy and out of place because he ran to take cover, but is face was solid and mean.

He came back into the street, picked me up by the collar of my shirt and got me on my feet. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t hum a tune. He kept a tight grip on my navy blue tee and a tight fist with him.

“Where are we going?!”

We turn the corner and we begin to head over to the base of the projects.

“Jonny… what are you doing? It’s okay man. It’s okay!”

Not a word was said from him until we reached our first door.

THUD THUD THUD.

“Who’re you!?”
“Did you shoot this kid?”
“No!”
“Thank you”

And then to the next. And the next. And the next. We went to every fucking door and he stared every person in their eyes with the same face I saw when I looked at him.

I’ll never forget that.

Today’s my first day of high school and I didn’t get much sleep. I was too excited to sleep. Finally… high school.

I get out of bed, walk over to my bathroom while my feet rub the carpet of my room. I look in the mirror, brush my teeth and shower up. I’m in a good mood today. A very good mood. Today is the start of something new.

I go through my routine of appearance until I’m satisfied with the way I look. Both my parents left me a note on the kitchen table asking me to bring home some milk after school because we’re out. Apparently, they left early and won’t be back till late.

This is an everyday thing, so I grab the note and slam the front door behind me.

It’s cloudy and the fog is thick, but I don’t even think twice about it. I just keep my head down and watch the steps ahead of me.

It’s like any other day, but not everyday is your first day. So, I’m trying to make this day that much more special. But, there’s only so much I can do.

As I’m about to turn the corner to head to school, I hear the bell ring. I move my feet as quick as I can without making it look like I’m late, but everyone knows I am.

I pull out my schedule and I use my finger to perfectly align “Algebra 1” with -

“Let’s go”
“But, wait, I need to find my class.”
“I said, ‘Let’s go’
“… Fuck, okay.”

I don’t even know where any of my classes are. Jonny came out of the cuts and right before I start my first day, I’m already ditching. How the fuck does he do that?

See, Jonny’s a Senior now. I think he has what they say…”Senioritis?”

If that’s the case, he must have had it since he was a kid. I never saw him at school.

“Where are we going?” I ask, with my thumbs cuffed up behind my backpack straps and my head down. I’m so paranoid about someone seeing us. But, not Jonny, never Jonny.

“I don’t know yet. Do you?” he snares.

“I was going to class, until you know, you came along and fucked that up.” I quickly respond.

“Hey, hey, relax freshmeat, I’m sure you’ll be fine tomorrow” he giggles because apparently, this is all fun for him.

“I got an idea.” He follows.
“How about we go to the railroad. I got something to tell you. It’ll be special”

I don’t say anything, what would it do?

We aren’t saying much today. I can tell something is on his mind. His face is grim and tight, like he’s holding something back. His forehead is full of wrinkles and his eyes are dim. It wasn’t his angry face, I knew that too well. This was a face I’ve never seen before.

We walk up this steep, long, brown hill because the grass had died out and we sit on the black and brown, thick railroad sides. I would have sat in the middle, but the wood had been broken and the rocks seemed sharp.

“So, why here? Why couldn’t we have just gone back to your house?” I ask because my ass hurt so much from that unforgiving slab of metal.

He pulls out a cigarette and lights it with the simplest of ease. The smoke in the air fades away with the fog and the cancer in the air almost seems… invisible.

“Listen here, I want you to know something” he says, looking off into the sky of fog.
“I want you to know that you better never let anyone mess with you.” he quickly follows.

A few seconds of silence and anticipation quickly cuts out as soon as he looks at me.

“I want you to know and to fucking understand that pain, pain is only temporary my boy!” he laughs and in a quick, perfect motion, he tackles me down on the sharp rocks.

“What are you- STOP!” I shout as I try to wrestle him off me, but he’s too strong and quick.

He places his knees on my shoulders and sits on my chest. I can’t breathe and I can’t think. I can’t even feel the pain by the rocks, but I can feel the blood dripping down my ribs.

He kisses behind my ear and within a second, I can feel the smoke tickle my ear and I can hear the crisp, crackling noises from the cigarette. The cherry burns through my skin and sends me a feel of… of anxiety.

He smiles the entire time. He smiles this sick, devilish smile.

He backs off, so I push him off.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR? HUH!?” I shout.
“I LEAVE SCHOOL FOR THIS?!”

He still laughs and I will never forget this.

He flicks the cigarette at me, turns around, and walks away. And in that moment, I felt nothing.

Nothing at all.

The next day, it was like any other day.

I didn’t see him at all though. I looked for him at school, but he never went. I went to his house and it was empty.

He moved away. He fucking moved away.

Everyday, I hear him repeating what he said. I can hear the words roll of his tongue and into my hear, it tickles. Every time I touch my ear, I play with the mark he left me.

That fucker made me lost though. I didn’t know where any of my classes were. I walked around the entire day like an idiot because I didn’t want to ask anyone where they were.

That fucking asshole.

Insidious.

: anthonycq; September 2nd, 2011

I can feel my lips slice open from the cold, insidious breeze that brushes my face and hear the lifeless leaves crunch as my feet quickly scrape the sidewalk. I feel a haunting presence over me, a knot in my throat, a clinch of my fist, but I just continue on.

I follow street lights that are lined in a row, down a never ending street that has cars up against the curbs and cracks. I’m at the pity of the city, I can’t see without the light.

I brush the fences of the houses I pass, leaving my fingers with a dark, blackish mold from the residue. I don’t know what I can eat or what I can do to keep warm because this hoodie is not cutting it.

Where am I going to go?

The sounds of tires screech, broken leaves, and owls in trees overpower my thoughts and I just listen. I stand still and I pray that nothing that I hear can hurt me.

I continue down the street with my hands rubbing my arms in an attempt to maintain a bit of heat. With my head down and with each foot, in perfect sync, I stare at the lines that separates each slab of concrete from the others.

I don’t know what to think, I don’t know what to say… and even if I did, to who?

At this point, I give up. I sit down, cuff my forearms over my knees and just rock back and forth, praying that someone could just offer me a warm blanket or anything. I just want to feel cared for. That’s all.

I look left and right, and back down at the ground. I have no where to go, no where to be, no one to see, and nothing to hear. I have no reason to get up and I have no reason to sit. I close my eyes and I imagine myself, free.

Free from the tedious life lessons and the cliche self help advice. Free from the law and free from the disaster of this world that we call home.

I think of ways to leave this city. I think of ways to disappear and start somewhere else, new, fresh. I can picture it vividly and the thoughts are beautiful.

I can just fall asleep dreaming. I truly could.

The shivers down my spine send me into a frenzy, so I arise from my world of freedom and return to… well, nothing.

I think of a place to sleep and I begin to head over to the local park which is infested with bums and dogs. I figure that if I can sleep in a round slide, I could stay warm enough to make it till the morning.

The constant hard winds and leaves breaking ignite the fear inside me and I begin to run. I run faster than I ever ran before. My arms swing and my legs shake, but I run because all I can think about is getting there and not being here. (Maybe that’s why runners run. You just forget about everything and run.)

“Spare change!?”

“You got any money!”

“Go back to sleep, motherfucker!”

I finally reach the slide and my heart is beating in my throat. I look back and see all the men and women with their bikes and one… maybe two blankets. The scene is awful. The piss filled blankets and bug infested grass is all they’ve got. They’re the scum, the lost and the forgotten of the city, and here I am.

I carefully shimmy my way down the slide and pull my arms into my hoodie. I tuck my legs in and I’m in my own little ball of misery. The back of my neck rubs against the slide and another shiver appears, so I hold myself tighter. The wind won’t stop until the sun rise and I have no where else to sleep, so I rest my eyes.

After about a few minutes of effortless attempts to sleep, I hear footsteps from the outside of the slide. I hold my breath as if I’m dead if I make one noise. The footsteps move in closer and closer..

“What the fuck!”

I tumble down the slide and my head hits first against the unforgiving tanbark. I hop up as quick as I can and I turn to see what pushed me down. My entire body is shaking, but my face is calm.

“What are you doing in my spot?!” an angry, young voice says.
“I didn’t know-”
“Better get the fuck out of here” it shouts.

I don’t hesitate, I turn around and stick my hands in my pocket-

“Wait, how old are you?” I can tell that she’s just as scared as I am.
“Why?” I quietly respond.
“I don’t see many kids my age around here.”

I stop and turn around. The night light seems to brighten up and a mold of a face appears. Her dark skin and curly hair doesn’t help me identify her, but my gut answers.

“16, how about you?”

She gestures me over to the bottom of the slide. I sit on the edge and I look up at her. She’s maybe, 5’4-5’5.

“17. What brings you out here?”

I don’t answer. I stare off into the night, looking at two men fight over a blanket.

“You smoke?”
“Nah.”
“Fine by me.” she smirks.

She pulls out a box of Marlboro Reds and slowly pulls out a cigarette. I watch her carefully as she lights one, with her hand covering it, blocking the wind from defusing her pleasure.

“Do you mind if I smoke?”
“You already lit it.”

She looks at me with a face that scared me for a bit. I didn’t realize that she is the one who “owns” this slide, so I better act right if I want to enjoy my sleep tonight.

“You didn’t answer me, what bring you out here?”
“I don’t even know you.”

She inhales her cancer stick slowly… and exhales, as if a weight was lifted off her shoulder.

“How about, I tell you why I’m here, then you tell me? Fair?”
“If you want to know that bad, then sure. Fair.”

She looks down, takes a deep breath, and she begins.

“I don’t really have anyone to talk to, so I hope you don’t mind. Like I said, you’re the only I’ve seen my age in a long time.”

“Yeah, neither do I.” I quietly answer, hoping she didn’t hear me.

“You see, I had it all man. I had it all. Food, money, clothes, a nice house,woo-wee. I still dream about it sometimes. That is when I can sleep.”
She brings the cigerrate to her lips, softly covering the butt, and Ssssss.

Ahhh.

“You ever heard of Lincoln High School? The school down the road?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“I was a freshman there. You should of seen me on my first day. I was up early, got ready real quick! I rushed out the door as fast as I could.”

“What does that have to do-”

“Relax, relax! I’m getting there!” she interrupts, perfectly guessing my sentence.
“So, as I was walking down the street, I could only think about what was going to happen that day. I was just so excited…”

She turns away and takes another hit from her cigarette. Her fingers crawl through her scalp and her eyes shut. She exhales with a sigh and looks at me, dead in my eyes.

“I was so fucking excited that I didn’t realize that the I hadn’t fully put out my stoge. I tossed it out the window that morning, right before I left the house. The fucking plants outside caught on fire and the fire jumped on the house.”

Tears flow down her cheeks and she throws her finished cigarette like a kid throwing a rock.

“They were asleep, they couldn’t have known. I should’ve never started smoking, I should’ve never smoked that day-”

“Who was asleep?”

“My parents.”

My eyes widen, I swallow slower than I ever had swallowed. I stare at her tears, I stare at her fingers, I stare at her helpless, lonely body, because there was no heart left. There was no forgiveness, there was no peace. Her cries turned into sobs and her deep breathes turned into choking pauses through her tears.

“How’d you end up here?”

“As I was walking to school that morning…” she pauses and looks up and stares at the dark.
“I could smell smoke. I turned around and saw a thick black cloud hovering over the neighborhood. I turned around and headed back. After a few blocks, I could see, the only thing I ever knew and love, burning and crashing down right in front of me… so I ran.”

“I ran and ran and ran until I couldn’t see the cloud anymore. You know, I was going to turn myself in and say it was me.That I did it. I killed my fuckingfamily. But, days here turned into months and months turned into years. Damn cops, couldn’t find me. Sometimes, I wish they did. I just could never get myself to admit that.”

“So.. why do you still smoke? Doesn’t it just-”
“Remind me?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, but I want to be killed slowly and I want the killer to be the same one who killed them.”

“Cigarettes?”
She laughs.

“No. Me.”

Within a Second.

: anthonycq; August 30th, 2011

The breeze outside gently taps my hands as they wave over my head and my toes sweep the harsh dirt in the backyard. The sun is pleasant and the cloud count is amazing. I couldn’t think of a more perfect day myself.

My digital watch reads 5:32 P.M. and I realize I only have a few more minutes before my mom calls me in for dinner.

The shoelaces on my shoe become undone and I bend over to fix it, but I hear a loud, terrifying noise come from the kitchen so I stop to listen.

“Victor! What are you doing!?”
“Victor!”

I hear my mom shouting and no one’s answering. I hear monstrous footsteps chasing after little, quick footsteps. I try to get up and run towards the kitchen, but my shoelaces were still undone, so I trip.

I fucking trip.

The shouting continues and I lose all thought, so only my instincts kick in.

I run inside to see where my mom is, but I pause at the door. There are red, dark, dirty bloods spots that path a way for me to find her. I follow each and every drop of blood that stains our carpet floor, staring at them with a nauseous face. I don’t want to see her anymore, I’m not ready yet.

I open the cold bathroom door, peep my tiny head through. I see my mom trying to stop the bleeding from her nose and I see parts of hair stuck in the tissues. Her nose is shaped in the number 7 and the blood just won’t stop pouring out of it.

“Don’t look at me!” she shouts hysterically with her eyes popping out and her mouth wide.

I turn around and shut the door. I sit down as quick as I can next to the door because I don’t want to be anywhere else except next to my mother.

I hear tissue after tissue being swiped out of the box and I freeze to wonder where my dad is for a second, but I can’t think straight.

I hear the light switch off and the door swing open. She rushes out the front door and heads down the hall. She opens the door and slams it without stopping to look around. I run to the window of our living room, hop on the sofa and while on my I knees, I see her go next door.

(We lived in this house, a very good house, but the only problem was that… it was next to a fire department. So, throughout my life, I’ve heard so many fucking sirens.)

She knocks on the door and the men of the house come to see her.

Instantly they say in unison, “We can’t help you! I’m sorry!”

Without hesitation I see my mom turn around back home as her blood drips from her damp tissues. The door opens with a snap and she runs back inside to get her keys.

“Okay, listen to me, take care of your sister. I’ll be right back.” she says to me as her bruised eyes look intensely into my helpless, teary eyes.

I watch her weak, frail body, slowly walk out the front door. I watch her drive off into my perfect day, bleeding, and tears coming from her eyes. She didn’t cry though. She never cried.

I watch my father, sound asleep in the bedroom. Snoring and sleeping like a fucking baby.

I watch him get up, take a piss, and go back to sleep, three times. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes after what he just did to my mom.

He made her drive herself.

I sit in the living room, staring at the blood for minutes, for hours. The silence in the house is dawning and the people in the house seem dead. The night fades in and the house seems so small. I’m scared to move.

I begin to doze off.

I begin to finally end this nightmare of a perfect day. But, no.

It could never be that easy.

I hear sirens again.

I think it’s those fucking bastards leaving for another fucking fire, but this time… the sirens seemed closer.

I look out my living room window and the sirens are flashing blue. The door begins to pound, so I open the door, hoping someone could just stop the noise. Three men burst in and I hear, “Freeze!”

My dad moans and groans, while his eyes bloodshot eyes scan the room for information to understand what is truly going on.

I stare at him while he’s being dragged across my mother’s blood.

My sister begins to cry in my room. I run to her and I just hold her. I hold her and cover her eyes because I don’t want her to remember any of this.

Everyone in the house is gone. No one came back for us. No one even bothered to look. The police didn’t see me because I hid behind the front door after it swung open. No one saw my sister because she was in my room. Not the bedroom my father was in.

I don’t even think they know about us.

“Shhh.” I whisper to my sister.

I don’t know what else to say. I don’t even know what to do.

Just like that. Everything is taken from me. I don’t know where my mom is. I don’t know where my dad is. I don’t know what’s going to happen next. I don’t know what to think. I honestly don’t even know what happened. The events replay over and over. I was just running with my hands in the air, now I’m hovering over my sister like she’s my cub.

But the energy in me can’t hold her tight enough.

The wall behind me feels soft. It has never felt this soft.

“Charles… Charles, can you hear me?” I hear a lady say, but the sounds drift in and out of my hear. I tilt my head up and see a blonde haired, very light skinned, middle aged woman.

No smile, no remorse, no pity.

The blank face stares at me and helps me up.

“We would like to talk to you about the events that happened last night.”

“Where’s… wait, where’s my mom!?”

“Where is my mom!” I shout hysterically, over and over.

“Calm down, please. Please, listen to me. Your mother is in the hospital. She suffered from a broken nose and a few broken ribs. The damage to her face is rather unpleasant, so we’re not allowing you to see her.”

“Did you see what happened?”

I tell them everything. I tell them about the screaming, the blood, the firemen, everything. Everything that I replayed in my head was jotted down by someone listening.

I just made sure they knew. But after that, they were gone.

I felt like just another case. Another person. Another day.

Like this wasn’t any more significant than anything else.

They didn’t even ask me if I was okay.

Nostalgia.

: anthonycq; March 1st, 2011

I hate coming back here. The memories that this place holds are greater than anything on this planet and sadly, it gives me a greater feeling than I am capable of handling. Nostalgia, is what they call it, I just simply call it, a life once lived.

It’s maybe 7 in the evening and I should probably start heading inside, but for some odd reason, I can’t get myself to turn away. The grass is slightly wet and the plants are growing, so I decide to watch.

My grandpa would bring me back here and teach me how to grow plants. He would tell me how often I need to water them, how much water they need and each of their names. He would teach me which plants I could eat and which plants I could just admire. He would teach me all the things he learned on his own.

The wind is pretty dead and the sun is slowly setting. The sight is rather lovely, but I still feel this sense of… nostalgia. Nostalgia, it seems like that’s all I ever encounter when I try to move completely on. What do I do? Do I try to forget everything all together? Because, whenever I try to remember the good, I am just left with all these bad, horrid emotions.

I softly touch the edge of this plant. I can’t seem to remember the fucking name, I wish I had paid more attention instead of picking at the grass when my grandpa would tell me the fucking names. It smells so sweet and it looks so beautiful. I rip it off and throw it on the ground.

I wish I could burn this fucking place. I wish I could destroy every memory. I wish I could just… die. I mean, we spend our entire lives getting close to people, learning how to love, learning how to appreciate someone because they appreciate you, learning how to be happy with someone, learning how to grow up with someone who will either scar or shape your life, then what? We all die.

What’s the point of it all? What’s the point of making memories when we all just rot?

I notice that all the plants in the garden are alive and I am left to maintain them. I am left to maintain every fucking plant or else they will die. I don’t remember shit.

All I remember is coming out here, every Saturday morning and my grandpa would repeat, over and over, the same shit about these goddamn plants. All I remember is picking at the grass and my grandpa would hit me for not paying attention. I remember smelling the plants and I would never take my nose off of them. I remember my grandpa picking them and would give them to me. I remember-

Fuck this. I can’t be here right now. I wish the wind was stronger so all these plants could just blow away. I know what I want to do, but I can’t get myself to do it. I don’t know what I should do, but I know what I need to do.

I stand up and look at the sun which just set. The sky is getting dark and the moon is slowly appearing. Yet, I know I’m not ready to go inside. No, not yet.

Why can’t I remember everything? Why can’t I remember how to grow these pieces of shit? Why can’t I remember the names? Why can’t I remember anything that I was supposed to remember?

I wish my grandpa was here. This shit would be easier.

He passed away a few days ago and this morning was his funeral. I did not go, I don’t want my last memory with him to be of his dead, cold, lifeless face.

I spent my entire life, growing, learning, achieving, with him, by my side through it all. I spent my childhood, learning how to please him and only him. I spent my whole life, making sure he was proud. But now, now what?

All I have are these fucking plants and these fucking memories. What the fuck are they good for? I can’t use them for anything. I can’t… I can’t do anything right now.

I sit back down and just… stare at this row of plants which stare blankly back at me. Without me, they will die, they will be gone forever. Without me, they will be nothing but dead, useless plants in dirty dirt. Isn’t that what we all become?

Tears are beginning to come and anger is building up, more and more. I can just feel this heat flow through my blood and my entire body just wants to get into a fight. A fight with… anyone. I just want someone to feel this fucking pain that I’m feeling emotionally, but physically. I think I’d kill them.

I don’t think I’d ever understand why we allow ourselves to love, to hate, to judge, to achieve, to do anything… when we all just die.

Why do we get close to someone? Why do we die and leave the ones that love us? Why do we always hurt the ones we love the most? I suppose it’s inevitable and sometimes… well, the moment is more important than the long run.

My entire life, I spent making him proud. My entire life, I spent learning. My entire life, I spent… growing.

Now that he’s gone, I have no choice but to maintain these plants. He’d want that, right? Without me, they will die along with his work.I know that I’m lost and don’t know where to begin, but that’s where we all start, right?

Sometimes, it’s best to let go and just… live and let live. Even if it means, feeling nostalgic.

Red Tie.

: anthonycq; January 10th, 2011

Have you ever been afraid of heights? Have you ever felt that feeling of adrenaline just rush through your body while looking down? You know that one small bad step and all your hopes, dreams, and aspirations will crush along with your body, right? The people around you look like ants and you; you are the king of the fucking planet.

People will do one of two things when it comes to feeling that rush. They will either, one; back away out of fear or two; use it to their advantage and enjoy that lovely feeling. Physiologists call that feeling “Fight or Flight”.

Life has a way of putting you in situations that you never thought you would ever be in. You live your entire life with goals and things that are set out in future that you believe will make you happy. In reality, one day can change an entire lifetime. Actually, there’s only a second between life and an untimely death.

Sad, don’t you think? You’re born not knowing who you are, what you are, where you are, how you are here, and what time it is. When you’re in that moment before drifting off into – wherever, you completely forget everything.

But that’s the thing we don’t understand or that some of us don’t understand. It’s all; life and death. We have things in between each other to occupy our time, our lives. We have dreams of gaining titles, of accomplishment, of success. Success is universal. It truly matters on how we look at what “success” is. Everything is like that. Everything is depended on how we look at it.

Perfection, love, life, death, religion, on and on only exists because we allow it to. We allow ourselves to believe that we were created by whoever, we allow ourselves to believe that love exists, we allow ourselves to view everything how we view it.

I don’t know why I’m up here. I suppose that rush gets the best of me. A “natural high” is what some may call it.

My dark red colored tie is moving with the wind and it tells me the wind is blowing west. Nothing matters when I’m up here. No thoughts of before, now, or after. No thoughts of why, who, what, when, where, or how. I look down and we’re all just… animals.

People are walking in different directions. People are walking by people who they will never see in their life again. Everyone is interacting with each other to get to a certain place at a certain time. It’s a routine; a deadly, sickening routine.

When I was born, I didn’t know what I wanted to be. When I was a child, I wanted to become what my father was. When I was a teen, I wanted to be what made me happy. Now, I don’t know what I want to be. I don’t know what title I want to be given. I don’t know what I want to become, what I want to evolve into.

I guess that’s another thing I don’t understand. How can one person focus their life around one thing when in the end, they are left with nothing? How can one person aim to be something when in the end, they are nothing? Is it to occupy the time of their life? Is it to make a mark on the generations after them? Or is it to be happy? I wouldn’t know. I suppose we all have our own view on “happiness”.

With my legs crossed, I tilt my head up and witness the rain drops hit my forehead followed by my chin. I stick my tongue out and attempt to catch a rain drop. It isn’t very successful.

I return to focus on these animals and I notice that no one bothers to say “Hi”. Why? Why don’t we just stop and simply say, “Hello”? Are we really that caught up in our lives that we can’t make someone’s day? I find that rather… pleasant. I suppose it’s the simple things that people overlook, that mean the most.

To be honest, I guess I am running away from certainty. I have to be home in an hour, but I have a gut feeling that what awaits me at home isn’t very pleasant. I just don’t want to experience pain… not yet.

I watch these people and after all these thoughts that run through my head, there’s still one that leaves me, speechless. How did we all get here? How did all of us end up at this exact place at this exact time at this exact moment in our lives? We all have our lives to live, our dreams to accomplish and things we “have” to do. So, how did we all just get here? Why?

When you look at someone from a view high above everyone, you solely look at how walk, how they are dressed, how they are rushing or being nonchalant. You can’t understand who they are. You can’t understand why they are the way they are.

I guess you can say I’m a gargoyle just watching over everything. I guess you can say I found it appealing to see, but not be seen. I mean, come on, who looks up at buildings looking for a man looking at them? Rather odd, right?

I guess I should get going. You can only run away from everything for so long. I stand up and turn around. I walk forward and open the door to reach the stairs which take me down to the first floor.

I walk and walk and make it to the sidewalk. I look around and everyone seems… to keep to themselves. I’m no longer significant or higher than everyone. I’m just like everyone else; trying to get somewhere at a certain time.

Reflection.

: anthonycq; January 2nd, 2011

I hate Fridays. It’s pretty surprising for someone like me to say that. I’m always dreading the presence of Monday, but hating the presence of a Friday evening.

I’m starring at this fucking clock in my last class. There’s only 5 minutes left, but my god, it’s ticking so slowly. Why is it that when time is needed to speed up, it slows down, and when it needs to slow down, it speeds up? It’s like a slow driver when you’re trying to make it to school on time.

The bell finally rings and I exit the classroom without saying a word to anyone. I’ll see them again on Monday anyways. Fuck them. I push and shove my way through the halls. Everyone is moving so goddamn slow. Go figure.

I walk to the school parking lot and low and behold, my dad is finally on time to pick me up. I abruptly open the door and get in.

I was never a big fan of the whole, “Weekends, you’re with your father and weekdays you’re with your mother”. It’s as if I’m a fucking chew toy and they’re throwing me around. I suppose my father would be the dog and my mother was the one throwing me around.

I hate sit downs with my family, so I never completely understood why my parents got a divorce. It’s rather sad, don’t you think? Two people who were once completely in love with each other to get married. Now, they fucking hate each other. Picking fights with each other just to get on each other’s nerves. Then, there’s that one person who uses me to seem like the better parent… or in their way of seeing it, a “better” person. I hate being in the middle of it all.

“How was school?” My dad asks.

“Good”

“Are you okay?”

“Nope, but that doesn’t matter, now does it?”

It’s not that I was mad at my dad, but it’s like… damn. You loved each other enough to fucking make me, why can’t you love each other enough to fucking raise me? I never understood how adults can preach to kids that we don’t know what love is, but it’s the adults who act like kids when love fails. I guess love has no universal age. Then again, there’s a point where it isn’t about “love” anymore.

I just stared at random objects out my window. The trees move by so quickly. I didn’t even bother to look back at my dad. Ever since I heard stories of his late night rampages, I can’t look at him the same.

The whole ride was quiet besides our random coughs and random heavy sighs. I kept trying to sleep, but I couldn’t. I never can sleep in cars.

We reached my dad’s house and I got out of the red Chevy. I slammed the door so hard that I swear the window could have cracked. I surprised myself at how hard it was. To be honest, I don’t know why I am so angry. I have just been so mad at everything lately.

He unlocked the front door and we entered this blue painted, small house. I’d be damned if I ever called this hell hole my home. I threw my backpack on the ground and just went to my room. I couldn’t allow for any moment where he could say something to me. His breath always smelled anyways.

I walked down his long hallway and opened my door. Everything in my room was just how it was left last week. There was just one bed dead center in the room and one TV in front of it. It was really nothing too fancy.

“Hey, buddy, I’m going to the liquor store for some Orange juice and milk, did you want anything?”

“No dad. Thanks though. I’ll just stay here. I have some homework to do anyways”

I felt a bit bad for how I treated him. Imagine if I were in his shoes…

I heard the front door close and I just threw myself on the bed and stared at my ceiling. I don’t know how I could stare at nothing for hours. I suppose I just lose track off time.

I really am bothered by this situation. I mean, they seemed so happy together. Then, poof. Everything I could ever wish for was just taken before my eyes. What a difference a day makes.

Sometimes I wonder if it was me that made them fail. Did I do something? Did I say something? I just begin to look back at the past and look for signs of when things started to go wrong. I doubt I can ever truly understand why this is all happening, even if we had a family sit down. Come to think about it, I haven’t sat down with both my mom and dad, in months…

I hear his truck pull in. I sit up and go unlock the door for him. Before I could even get out of my room, I hear the front door open.

“Hey, boy, I’m home! Haha!”

“Uh, Hi…”

“What’s your problem?!”

“Are you okay?”

“OH, THAT DOESN’T MATTER, LIKE YOU SAID!”

Something is definitely different. I open my room door and seem his wobbly, walking towards the kitchen table.

“Where’s the milk, dad”

“HAHA! OOPS. Must’ve forgotten it!”

“Are… are you drunk?”

Goddamn it. I have to deal with this shit now. I sit down in front of him and just put my hands over my face. I already know that tonight is going to be horrible.

“DAMN IT. HOW’D YOU KNOW!?”

“… Dad, why? What the –“

“Woah, no fucking cussing in my house!”

“But you just… nevermind”

I got up and just went to my room. I decided that staying in my room all night would be the best solution. I don’t fucking understand why he had to drink when I’m here. I guess I don’t understand a lot of things my dad does.

I went back to starring at my ceiling. I hate that the best of thoughts come at random, but the worst of thoughts seem to come at a common. Maybe it’s just me.

I hear a glass break and him laughing afterwards. I don’t know what he’s doing… I don’t want to know, actually. I locked my door and tried to close my eyes. Right before they shut,

“Boy, come out here!”

Goddamn it.

“Coming!” I respond.

I slowly get out of bed. As if I was going to school in the morning. I open my door, for the hundredth time and go to the kitchen.

“Sit down.” He says in a more serious tone.

I can still see a broken glass, but I forget about it and turn to him.

“Yeah?”

“So, how are you?”

“Good? You seem fine.”

“You’d be surprised…”

What? Is he giving me some sort of guilt trip? If anything, I should be doing that. This bastard just got drunk with me here and he and my mom got a divorce and he’s going to try and do this to me?!

“Oh. Well, what? What do you want?”

He looks down at the table and runs his hands through his hair. He looks back up and I can see his eyes are blood shot red. He was obviously crying.

“I just want you to know, none of this is your fault, none at all”

“Then why am I in the fucking middle of it all?”

I didn’t care about his fucking “no cussing” rule.

“I’m sorry. Really. Just know that, your mother and I are going to get passed this.”

I don’t know what to believe anymore, honestly. I have been lied to so many times during this whole ordeal that I just figured that I should stay quiet and let things happen. Have you ever notice that you can only do so much until you just say fuck it?

“Honestly dad, do whatever you like. I am just so sick and tired of all this.”

I can see him crying.

“Listen to me, when I was growing up, my dad and mom split too. They would argue and fight every night. Every morning, I was greeted with smiles and promises of new things. They tried to win me over with materials…”

“They split? Grandma and Grandpa?”

“Why else do you think we stay at different houses for the holidays?”

“Why didn’t I ever know this?”

“Let me finish. When I was growing up, I told myself that when I become a parent, I will never do the things my father did. I will stay with the woman I make a child with, I will always be there for my kid, I will always be the father that my father wasn’t for me.”

He’s not even looking at me at this point. Why the fuck didn’t I know any of this?

He was looking out the kitchen window and then, he turned towards me.

“So, why didn’t I ever know any of this?”

“Because I didn’t want you to know that I failed you. That I failed myself. That the biggest promise I ever made to myself was broken. Do you know how that feels? It’s like… it’s like being promised to watch a movie with a girl. You go to the movies, wait there, and figure that waiting for 2-3 hours is long enough. You start to walk home and you see the girl making out with someone. That feeling of disgust and that ball in your throat is choking you alive. I have to wake up to that every fucking morning.”

I feel more than bad. I never knew how much of an effect this has on my dad. I was so fucking selfish.

“Dad… it’ll be fine. Well, I still love you.”

He was crying and crying. I began to think he was losing it.

“My fucking reflection kills me. I can’t look at myself the same. I see the same fucking monster that my dad was. I can never, ever become that. Son, I’m sorry for everything. I am so fucking sorry.”

He opened the front door and ran out. He threw open the door of this Chevy and came back with a knife. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I think he’s just too drunk to realize what’s going on. He came back inside and stabbed every fucking mirror in the house. I just sat there… and watched.

Blood came running down his hands and wrists. The glass breaking noise was everywhere now. I couldn’t just close my eyes.

He threw the knife on the floor and went into his room. Do you ever just know when something bad is going to happen? When that feeling in your stomach is too strong to even walk?

Yesterday, I was a child dealing with a divorce. Today, I am fatherless.

What a difference a day makes.

I suppose he never did become that monster. I suppose he stopped himself before anything else could go wrong. I suppose leaving me was the best lesson he ever taught me.

Best Stranger.

: anthonycq; November 26th, 2010

You reach a certain point where you stop caring about friends. I’m being serious. You realize how useless some of them, well, most of them really are. You spend more time alone. You spend more time thinking rather than talking. You discover yourself after all these years of having other people discover you.

I was always one to make friends, to meet people, to enjoy the presence of others, but there’s only so many times you can be disappointed before you stop looking forward to things.

I remember being only 14 and meeting my best friend. I label him that because, well, he was the best friend I ever had.

It was a Monday and I hate Mondays. I remember waking up to the sound of my alarm clock. I wake up to the same thought that I wake up to every single fucking morning, “Great, school.”

I’ve been confined in this routine of academic studies day in and day out. I can’t do anything about it. I’m forced to have lessons and teachings shoved down my throat and I’m forced to succeed in this routine or else, my entire life will be a waste. I know that I hate this, but again, I can’t do anything.

I hop in the shower and take my time. I enjoy the hot shower hitting my skin and contemplate sleeping in the shower, but I can’t. I can’t do anything.

I get out, dry off and throw on some clothes. I stopped giving a fuck about what I wear. I stopped caring about other people’s opinions. I stopped caring about everything and everyone at school.

I begin to walk to the bus stop because my parents already left. They all have work early and get off late. No family drama because, well, our family never is together. I’m not one to whine, but it’d be nice to have a family dinner. But, a microwave dinner will have to do.

It’s pretty windy and the leaves are everywhere. I pace my steps so I can walk on every brown leaf as I have my hands are on my backpack straps. My steps get longer and shorter, depending on where the leaf was.

I get to the bus stop and sit. It’s 7:13 and the bus doesn’t come till 7:21. Fuck, I forgot my iPod at home. I have to sit and stare at the ground till the bus comes. It’ll take forever.

Then, I see this maybe... 35 year old, homeless guy, pick up a bottle. He throws it in his black bag and fixes his dark blue beanie. He walks towards the bench I’m on and sits there. His army green crewneck smells like piss and his black sweats smell like shit.

I can’t really say anything, so I continue to stare at the ground.

“What’s the time, boy?!”

My initial thought was “Boy?”, but I answer quickly.

“7:15”
“Thank you, sir!”

He’s so homeless he can’t even afford a watch. How embarrassing.

I notice out of the corner of my eye that he’s reading the book I have in my hand. It’s my psychology book. I’m surprised he can even read.

“How’s school, boy?!”
“Why?”
“Well, you did give me the time. I figured I’d do you a favor and be kind.”
“I suppose I’m doing okay.”

This guy really wants to have a conversation. I don’t know what me and a homeless dude have in common. I don’t know his name, his age, his lifestyle, his past, his anything. All I know is that, he’s homeless and I’m waiting for my bus.

“Psychology, eh?”
“Yes.”
“It shouldn’t be too difficult. Well, I wouldn’t think.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I’ve been on these streets for some time now, boy. You don’t think I’ve noticed people? How people are in certain areas. How people act when I ask for money? How people are when their other friend’s backs are turned? People are easy to understand. Psychology doesn’t need to be taught in school. Come out here for a week and you’ll learn more about yourself and others then you ever would have.”

What just happened…? Did this homeless dude really just say that? He’s picking up trash for a living and he’s telling ME what’s easy and not?

“Well, that’s just me. Like I said, I’ve been here for a while. That’s why I’m quiet with others, but knew I could ask you for the time...”

The bus pulls up and interrupts him. I quickly jump up, pull out my two dollars and turn to him.

He looks at me and I’ll never forget what he said, “Hey boy, mind sharing two dollars for the bus?”

I don’t know why even to this day why I gave him money, but I did.

He walks into the bus with me and sits right next me. Out of all the seats, he chooses the one next to me. Great.

I don’t know what to think. I don’t know if he’s going to try to talk to me. If he’s going to be completely quiet or if he’s going to just jump and run around like a lunatic. I simply don’t know who the fuck he is. So, I ask.

“Got a name?”
“Yeah, does it matter?”
“I suppose not.”

Wow. His attitude just changed on me. I’m not even thinking about school anymore. How can someone like him, talk about psychology as if he’s a master of it.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” he softly speaks.
“What is?”
“Well, think about it. We’re probably never going to see each other again. Our only goal was getting on this bus. We worked together to accomplish our common goal and then... nothing. You look at me as if I’m crazy. I notice it. I’m used to it. Is it because I dress this way? Is it because my home isn’t like yours? Is it because my obsession with people as driven me to the point where I need to be surrounded by them, but can’t? We’ll never see each other, boy. But I promise you this, you’ll never forget me.”

I sit in amazement. I can’t speak. I can’t move. I’m in shock. Simple shock.

“I suppose that’s all life consists of. People always coming together to achieve a goal. For you and your friends, to complete school, to be successful. For you and I, to get on this bus and get off. Then what? What happens when everything that needs to be done, gets done? Nothing. We separate and maybe, if we’re lucky, we meet again and complete another common task.”

He’s right. Everything he says makes so much sense. I’ve never listened to anyone speak to me like this before. My “friends” are just people I see every day.

I reach my stop and turn to him.

“I never did catch your name.”
“I’ll tell you next time I see you.”

I never did see him again. I never did see him on the streets. I never did see him at that bus stop.

We completed our goal together. Now, I only wish another task can present itself so I can see him again.

Amazing how attached you can get to someone whose name is... irrelevant.

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