My mother used to baby me. I was her first, and only, son. I guess she thought that if she didn't do it right then she was cursed for all eternity. I personally think she did a great job. It's not her fault I was blessed with my fathers crazy mind. My mother was perfect. She was kind hearted, warm, sweeter than anyone I've ever met. She loves me unconditionally which is the one thing I am grateful for. If anything she loves me more when I'm at my worst. Which seems like all the time. This has given me the ability to love. Love until it hurts. Don't let go until they truly want you too. Hold on until the last moment possible.
My father is a good man. He's always tried to do good by his family and has always kept his heart open for love. The unfortunate thing is that he was cursed with crippling depression that has left his heart broken, shattered. A million pieces going every which way and he doesn't know which is the right one. He wants to love me as much as he loved mother. This problem, in a sense, has given me the ability to accept the things I cannot change. I cannot mend my fathers broken heart and broken mind. I can only accept it and love it as it is. One day he'll be free of this world and when that day comes he'll be at peace. Whole again.
My sister, Celia. My god, she's perfect in every sense of the word. She's courageous and kind. Much like our mother. She's tall, beautiful, and all smiles. She's easily the second nicest person I know. She has love just like my mother but I don't think she realizes it quite fully. I feel as if I've abandoned her the most. I was honestly the only one she had back before everything went to hell. I just don't understand why I couldn't see that at eighteen years old. Our relationship is rocky, I would think. I was the one person she could turn to and I simply ignored it all. I still ignore it all and she continues to love me from afar. I think if there is one person in this world left that loves me, Celia is that person. I wish I could admit to her how sorry I am. Sorry just isn't in my dictionary. I don't know how to say it without feeling like a joke. Celia is going to becoming so much more than I am. She'll take after our mother more and more. She'll spread her wings and she'll get away from it all. I wish I could tell her.....anything at all.
Samantha. She's seventeen years old and has her whole life ahead of her. She wants to do wild things like me, she says. Move across state lines. Visit family in California! Be strong, be wild, be free on the open road. She tried it once a few months ago. With a man that could rival my age plus 3 years. My father cried to me on the phone. Tells me that 'Samantha is going down the wrong path. Preston, you need to talk to her.' What my father doesn't know is that she's just trying to be like me. What my father also doesn't know can't hurt him anymore than he already hurts. I want more for her. I want her to take after Bec.
My twin sisters Natalie and Sierra. They're 7 years old and from what I hear they're nothing like I was growing up. My father says they're crazy! They're rebellious and they're going to cause so much trouble. They're like I was in my teenager years, my father says one day on the phone. I can hear the disappointment in his voice as much as I heard it the first time my mother caught me smoking. I was 17 years old at the time. Natalie and Sierra will probably never know me like my other sister. They'll probably learn all about me from my father and Samantha. They'll hear about how perfect I am and how I went to college in California because I'm going to be a great, great man.
I'm neither kindhearted nor broken. I think I'm stuck in this sick transition period where I'm neither but both. I may very well end up like my father. Crippled by a mental illness. I know I won't let it take me alive. I think of the great upbringing I had and remind myself that life isn't always a pocket full of fucking sunshine.
I grew up in a small town just outside Pikesville, Kentucky. My mother knew I was bound to break the state line as soon as I could. We lived in a nice home. 3 bedrooms, one bathroom, a family room and a huge kitchen. We had dogs, oh we did. The one I remember most was a Beagle mutt my dad picked up at the flea market. Buster was a good little guy. He joined our other dog, Bud. Bud was also a beagle so the two hit it off without a hitch. I used to walk those two whenever I could. Buster entered my life at a delicate age...or so my mother would say. I was probably seven or eight and I really, really wanted a dog of my own. As soon as I got my wish I realized I was horrible at taking care of things. I'm talking plants, goldfish, and even Bud and Buster. I suppose that whole situation shaped me into the person I am today. I know that I'm great at being on my own. I can feed myself, drink water, shower every day. I can take out the trash on Tuesday evenings because God knows I won't make it out Wednesday morning. I don't make my bed because I like the way it feels when I wake up. Every night when I lie down I feel that same feeling. I'm not good with change. I may be moving at light speed personality wise but inside I want to slow down. I think all these things have taught me that I am better off alone. I separate myself from my loved ones because I can love them better when I'm away. I tend to take advantage of things when I don't even realize it. This all spares them from whatever heartbreak will come from it all. I'm not morbid, I believe in a God. I think that one day, when I pass away, I will be happy. It may or not be Heaven. Who am I to judge? Knowing my luck, and my past mistakes, I should be happy with eternal darkness. When I die I'll be simply that.
I went to college in California. When I was in my late teens I thought it was the right decision. I was a small town boy just dreaming of big things. I was accepted into University of California and it shocks me to this day. I was an average student in High School. An occasional A would show up on my report cards and when it did my mother would cry. It's the little things I remember that make me joyful and grateful. I attended college for a year and a half before dropping out to follow my dreams in Skateboarding. I suppose I wasn't cut out for the academic lifestyle. Once again, I think the whole "Better off alone" and "Not being good with change" notions come in affect. I made some good friends and even took up some hobbies. I tried writing and I failed. I am horrible with grammar and sentence structure (as you can tell.) I also tried Poetry (the same rules apply.) I tried basketball, football, and soccer. I even tried swimming but I couldn't even learn how to do that. I soon realized that no matter how far you go, you never really lose the way you were raised. Small town, big dreams. Those big dreams will lead you straight back to that god forsaken small town, I'll tell ya. I'm okay with that.
After California and College I traveled by motorcycle and skated. I took the scholarship money and school loans and took the road. I visited state after state and settled down in each and every one. I've lived in Las Vegas, Nevada; Roswell, New Mexico; Seattle, Washington; Nashville, Tennessee; Columbus, Ohio; Key West, Florida; and Dallas, Texas. It was in those places I met friends and changed. I've been many places but those were the places that stood out. Living month to month in apartments, going out and finding odd jobs. I've worked many places too. I can sell fishing poles, clothing, tacos, and Cars. I've seen the inside of many fast food establishments and chain stores. I can say I've done a lot but when do you say you've done it all? I can't even tell you how I ended up where I am now. I guess that's a story for a different day. Until then I'll leave you with this. This place left an impact on my life. It could have been the coffee I drank the morning I arrived or the person that sold it to me. It could have been an advertisement in a store window or a lady walking her dog. Some thing little made me stop and something big, in my heart and mind, has made me stay.
I'm twenty seven years old. I'm not getting any younger. One day I have to wake up and accept that things are not going to change. My life is only just beginning but it also isn't going to go much further. I swore to myself I'd let myself go at twenty seven. I could've joined the 27 Club and be with all the other bad asses in heaven. I could have lived up to a name but without achievements. If I really had to pick one thing to change it would be me going back to seventeen. I'd appreciate the days I had when I HAD them. I'd take each one and stretch it out as long as possible. I'd go to my doctors appointments and make my mother proud. I'd hold my mothers hand and be her son. I'd tell my father that it's okay to be broken. It only gives you an opportunity to sprout and grow. I'd tell him I love him and that I'm sorry I left. I'd be okay with grieving like any other child. But this story isn't all about grievances. It's about finding yourself and the bumps along the way. What's worth it and what's not. I'll find the answer one day. Until then I'll tell you a secret. I'm finding it increasingly difficult to see the point in living
and I don't know what that means.