Monday, December 27, 2010


For the past few months, I have grown to realize that I really am the only family that I have.

I've never really had a normal life as far as my family is concerned. When I was around 4, I remember my dad kicking my mom out of the house. I remember sitting at the top of the stairs as my dad yelled at my mother, and she left for good. As the door shut, I ran to the porch, just to get one last look. I felt like my life had ended.

My parents had broken up since my dad had put the pieces of the puzzle together, and realized that my sister, wasn't my sister at all. My mother was notorious for meeting strangers, and handing out her phone number. Afterwards, when someone would call, she would claim that she didn't remember giving them the number. This should come to no surprise, since she had a brain aneurysm at 18, and was left with severe short-term memory loss.

My dad knew that my mother was seeing another man, or at least he had a hunch. And after they had their third child he had gotten verification. As my sister got older, my dad realized that she was quite tall, and she had blond hair. My dad is 5'9" and my mom is 5'5". Both of them have black hair also. It didn't make sense. My dad knew who the other man was now.

My dad had had a paternity test done. He was not the father. This led to their separation. My mom left her two sons for her new man. And my dad had just raised a child for 3 years, and come to find out, it wasn't even his.

I had visited her on weekends for a long time, since my dad knew how much I loved my mom. He knew that I was her favorite, despite her leaving me. I remember she would call me all the time. And since she had such terrible memory loss, she would call me A LOT, because she would forget that we just spoke on the phone a few hours ago. Knowing that I was on her mind often, made me feel better about her not living with me.

After a while though, my mom and my sister's father, as well as my sister moved into a house after living in apartments for years. My mom's fiancée had accused me from stealing from his home when I was around 10. After that he prohibited my mother from talking to me. I never heard from her again. It wasn't for quite some time until this really began to sink in.

The next year a friend's mother had proposed that I move in with her. Now, I know that she didn't just ask me, and see if I would do it. I know my dad had asked her if she would. And the thing is that no one has ever told me that, even though I'm smart enough to figure it out.

After moving out with family friends I realized that my dad gave me up. My dad didn't care about the past 11 years. The only thing he cared about was living his life the way HE wanted. I was a great child. I can only remember a small handful of times where I really made him mad.

But my disobedient older brother was the one he decided to keep. He decided to give up the perfect child who was destined for the stars. I bet it was for one of those stupid reasons like he just wanted the best for me. Honestly, his life has been a downward spiral since I left, and it's unfortunate.

As far as I'm concerned though--I don't have a family. I just have me, myself and I. That is all I will ever need. I'm not going to allow the poor life decisions of other people define me.

If people weren't pulling me in 8 million different directions, it would be easier for me to truly convince myself that I only need myself. As for right now, I couldn't feel more alone.

I can't wait for someone to come along and remind me of what it's like to feel alive.

Thursday, December 23, 2010


It was a typical summer day. The sun was shining, and there was a slight breeze. At the time I was 8 years old.

As a child, my dad let me go anywhere, alone. I decided I was going to go the public park about 6 blocks down the road. I walked since the bike I had last summer had broken. Like any other visit to the park I immediately sat on a swing. I began to go as high as I could go, feeling the wind in my face, and listening to the sound of the swing creeking. For one reason or another after I got tired of that, I'd always find myself just sitting there on the swing, hardly swinging or not swinging at all reflecting on my thoughts.

It wasn't that I was racist or anything, but whenever I saw black people I had always stared a lot. It was strange to me, and I didn't quite grasp it. I went to a Roman-Catholic Elementary School, therefore, black people were foreign to my culture. Not only that, mentally handicapped people were obscure in my mind. I just couldn't comprehend why they couldn't act like 'normal people.'

I sat on the swing, thinking and rocking. Walking down the path, toward my location, I could see two black boys. Thet appeared to be larger, and older than me. I stared a little, and tried to act as innocent as possible, since I was kind of terrified of black people. As they got closer, I must have been laughing to myself, in between staring (which I didn't realize that I did, until now). The kid came over to me, with his friend behind him.

I began to get incredibly nervous. I was just unsure of how to act, how to portray myself. The kid piped up in a slurred, almost uneducated voice, "You making fun of my brother?" He had a serious attitude problem. I treated him with respect, since that was how I was taught to act no matter what the circumstances.

I replied with, "No, I wasn't. I don't even know your brother."

I was thinking that this all must have been a misunderstanding until he said, "My brother is mentally handicapped. It ain't right that you're makin' fun of him."

In my head I remember thinking that this kid had to be retarded. His yellowish eyes looked in two different directions. In my memory, he was slightly hunched over, and seemed to be drooling, with his mouth hung open like a barbarian. He even had an irregular breathing pattern that only seemed to be noticeable due to the peculiar weezing noise he made.

Now in fear, after taking my first good look at his brother I said, "I wasn't making fun of him. I'm sorry if you thought I was. I didn't even notice." Those were just about my exact words. Since I was genuine, but clearly appeared to be kissing ass, he wasn't happy and left with his brother.

At this time, more fear had set in and I waited a normal amount of time, and then started on my way home, where I knew I would be safe.

I was within 2 blocks of my house and had just crossed the street to the side which my house was on. I had turned with complete paranoia to find that him and his brother, were riding on bikes behind me in the street. For the next block, I told myself that they were just passing me. Before I knew it, they were completely caught up with me.

Without even thinking about it, I had opened my mouth. "My house is right up over here, so you can stop following me," I piped up. In the scariest cluster of disoriented seconds in my entire life, he had come up behind me, jumping the curb with his bike, silent.

I had frozen. He was close to me, looking me in the eyes. His eyes were similar to his brother in the fact that they were yellow. This extra dark completion only enhanced the yellow which glowed from his scleras. He said in an aggressive voice, "What did you say?"

Stammering, I attempted to mutter the words once again. I was unsuccessful. He drew his arm back, and before I knew it, he had punched me in the face. Like a sling shot, his hand drew back slow, but it retracted with multiple times the force. He had hit me on the left side of my face. He had knocked me to the ground. He quickly left on his bike.

It was my teeth more than anything else that hurt. Yes, my cheek and jaw were throbbing also. I had ran the last 20 yards or so to my house crying, and wanting to die. I thought, how could I have had allowed something like this to happen? I had a revolting taste in my mouth, and could feel bits on my tongue. In time I had realized that two of my teeth were chipped in the event. Not many can say that they know the bitter taste of bone marrow, but I can.

I have been looking forward to getting my braces off for years. I've always plotted how I could go about exposing them for the first time since I got braces. When I get them off in a few months I'll be excited but when I smile in the mirror I will still hate my smile. I don't know if I'll ever be able to overlook the chips and love my smile after my braces are removed. As far as I know, almost 5 years of braces will be worth nothing because I will still hate my smile.

No, Lady Gaga, I will not show you my teeth.

Friday, December 17, 2010


Upon filling out applications for college I thought about the varieties of applications that exist in our world. We have those that are crucial and those which may be considered unofficial.

I suppose that college applications fall under the category of those which are crucial. In college applications not only do you need to accurately and properly fill out information, but you need to effectively represent yourself and set yourself apart from the masses. I wrote my college essay while pulling an all nighter. I was on my 4th cup of coffee, and it was around 4AM. I write my best when I am under pressure and need to make a lasting impression. On Monday, I will hand in all of the necessary forms, as well as my essay to be sent to colleges. I wrote down my information confidently, and I will hand it in the same way.

Second would be the job application. When I applied to GAP Outlet, I did it as if I knew I were the best candidate. Like the college application, this falls under the category of crucial. I felt similar when I wrote up my resume. I just had to make sure that I impressed myself. Who is going to take a chance on you if you don't take a chance on yourself.

And yet another form of an application that I've had experience are those which involve the government. In order to do anything in the court system, an application must be filled out. In order to get any kind of specific reissuing of a document, you need to have the correct application. This brings me to the importance of filling out the correct application. If you need to apply for something, take your time, writing down your information may be time consuming, and needs to be taken seriously. I take these kinds of applications very seriously. Although our government may seem like a joke, when it comes to dealing with you, the citizen, they do not have any time to fool around.

And lastly, we have the only form of an unofficial application which seems to have become extinct. Years ago, before MySpace died, there was such a thing as a "Boyfriend (or Girlfriend) Application." At the time, you would post a blog, that would be visible on your profile. The title would say "Boyfriend Application," or whatever based upon your sexual orientation. This would be something that you would compose. It would be a specific variety of Yes/No questions, and short answers, based upon what you were looking for. When it came to filling out these applications, it was done with care and time.

This application was one that seemed to be a conglomerate of the other three applications. The task was to represent yourself in the best light possible. The position would be becoming this megahottie's boyfriend or girlfriend. The documentation would be the little piece on your profile that said In A Relationship, and linking the person's picture in your heroes section, and saying how much you love them.

Paper work is exactly what it sounds like: your work, on paper. It's as simple as that. It doesn't take quick wit, and beauty to make yourself known in this sector of life. All it takes is a pen and a dream.