I left home that winter of 1999 chasing a dream. Leaving my mother and little sister behind to fend for themselves,I went off for acting. Yes, I was as naïve as any teenager could get. It’s funny how teachers don’t realize that when they say “follow your dreams”, many teens take it literally. That stupid little cliché ruined my life.
I can’t blame anyone else, though. It’s hard not to. I mean, why would you want to take responsibility for anything you’ve done, when you can blame someone else for your troubles?
I could blame my father. The poor bastard was as dumb as a post. My mother left him when I was 17, and I have to say that I was perfectly fine with her choice. When it comes to families and staying together, I did know the reality of that. I did know that there’s barely a 50 percent chance of a family staying together. Or maybe I just hated my dad. Either way, I accepted it.
I could blame my mother. It would be cruel, considering she’s worked hard to take care of my little sister and I. But no one’s perfect. She constantly pressured me into getting flawless grades and SAT scores any Cornell-bound student would die for. I guess then I started pressuring myself. I never had a lick of fun during my freshman, sophomore, and junior years. I was so focused on my work that that’s pretty much all I wanted to talk about. I guess my friends got annoyed when all I could contribute to a conversation was the fact that the history essay was due tomorrow, or that John Hopkins was a great medical school. They wanted to talk about Harry Jameson, the hottest guy in school, or that they were sure Misty Coleman was pregnant a second time…
I completely missed my chance at immaturity when it wouldn’t have ruined my life.
***
I walk across this sidewalk every day. No healing. The pain still grips me, like a mother holding on to her dying child hoping for dear life. it hurts too much here. I wish I could give a reason, or tell you of a time where might be some sense in this. This kind of pain. Sadly, I’m just what they call…crazy?
Nobody died; no traumatic events. Just memories.
I shouldn’t do this anymore. I should move on. But to where? I keep promising myself I’ll move somewhere else. But I’ve never been good at keeping promises.
***
I looked into the shop, wondering whether or not I should go in. I was getting depressed again and, needing something to distract myself. I thought maybe a book would do the trick.
I never read a lot when I was younger. I’d trade books for hours and hours of listening to music. I possibly liked every single band that was out at the time. I was in love with bands like Sonic Youth, Nirvana, Radiohead, and Nine Inch Nails. Although I loved acting, I guess you could call me a music fanatic. Of course, now I’ve given up music for reading. Music conjures up too many emotions for me, and I think half the bands out now are garbage anyway. Books always take me out of this world, and to another someone else created. I’ve had enough of my own little problems; why not listen to someone else’s?
I was hesitant walking into the bookstore, since I’m pretty sure that the owner thinks I steal. He always watches me walk down the aisles and past the register. Because I’m broke, I could steal but I prefer to just sit and read.
“Maybe you should get a job, start pulling your weight around here.” She turned her head sideways to look at me. Damn. I knew I should’ve stayed in my room. She’ll never stop talking…
“I mean, you always get your homework done so quickly. And then you just sit there with the headphones blasting! Will you listen to me?” I sighed and put down my music. Why did I come out here again?
“Yes, mom?”
“I’m saying that now that you’re a senior and you hardly have any work to do, maybe you should get a job. We’re really behind on bills, and I could use a lot of help.” She says. When she sees my exasperated expression she says: “Just think about it.”
I know she really means that I’ll have to get a job, but my mom likes to put things lightly. Well, anything that didn’t apply to schoolwork.
Yes, it was true. I could probably get my work at school done, and keep a minimum wage job. I just didn’t feel like it. I was one of those teens who didn’t realize trouble until it was already smack in my face. And I just didn’t see that we were having it that bad…or at least I was too stuck in my own little world to realize it. I should’ve been more selfless, and it’s always been one of my largest regrets.
“I don’t know Mom... It’s just...I don’t know.” I looked down at my hands so I wouldn’t have to see her ‘disappointed’ expression. I still don’t know if I was truly being lazy, or if having a job would’ve been too much for me. She sighs, and turns to the dishes again. I know she’s going to keep trying (and that eventually she’s going to force me) but my mom liked to take things slow.
I paused at the door step, afraid of yet another rejection. I did this once every month, hoping and wishing they’d finally forgive me. I was tired of wandering aimlessly about this small town. Is it wrong for me to wish to be home, after how I’ve betrayed it?
i never actually knocked on the door. But I’ve always had this feeling that my mother was there, waiting for me to finally get the courage to know...I never did.
The door swung open, and she would have crashed into me if I hadn't screamed. She jumped back into the house and echoed my yell.
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