I left you a letter, only to let you know that what’s about to happen has nothing to do with you. We don’ t have the most privileged life. We struggle, having barely anything to eat. There are times when I feel lucky to sleep on the smooth concrete street, though other times as I sleep, I feel multiple rocks jabbing my back, with only a shirt to act as a barrier.
School was something that I always struggled with. Maybe it was because I didn’t have friends or maybe it’s because nobody wanted to be around me, because of how I smell. I don’t have the nicest clothes if I’m being honest. I feel like a reverse magnet, instead of people getting close to me, people are drawn away, that is, unless they’re there to push me up against a locker and take a punch at my face. Making me wake up alone in the hallway with only a bloody nose and a black eye to remember. The worst part is that everywhere I go there are eyes on me, eyes that show empathy, pity, fear, and anxiety. That kills me.
Mom, I know it has been hard for you. You are strong and I can’t thank you enough for working yourself so hard, to feed, dress, and love me. I couldn’t ask for a better mother. You have nothing to do with my decision right now. This is just not the life I want to live. I don’t want to live my life scared, afraid, with the only thing certain about my future is a beating. I want to become something. Something that someone looks up to, someone sees me as a role model. I wanted to live a new life, I hope you understand and make a change to everything that only have made things harder. Don’t forget me, Mom.
I feel algidity, making me tremble throughout my whole body. Looking down at what’s going on below me, waiting to end all the times I have been brave, scared, and strong. I can’t take it any longer, I can’t keep on having the feeling that no matter what nothing will change the fact that I’m poor and can’t take care of my own mother, let alone stand up for myself. My way of being strong is by ignoring everything and not letting people’s opinions affect me, or to let them know that it does. I can’t be strong anymore. This way my mother can take care of herself. And not drink her way through it all because that’s the only way she can cope with the idea of not being able to take care of me. I hate watching her blame herself. Not realizing she can’t deal with everything by drinking and getting high, but instead by telling me that everything is gonna be okay.
I walk closer and closer to the edge, staring straight into what seems like the most beautiful sky I have ever seen, the stars seem to be everywhere. There is not a place where I can not see one, each start seems to have something unique about them, maybe it was the different brightness or the sparkle they tend to have. They all seemed so close, and I have the blinding urge to touch one. I can feel my toes falling off the edge of the building. My toes are clenching onto the top of the roof, I can feel the adrenaline running through the bare of my feet to the apex of my body. Looking down again only to manage to see nothing but the material I sleep and wake up on. Only this made me feel comfortable and not totally scared. I’m reaching toward the place where I did my homework, played soccer, and danced. I’m going back to where it all started, where my mother would hold her baby boy so close to her chest, able to hear every single heart beat. I look away, then forward and see that beautiful night sky again and with the stars so close. It seems like what a 3D movie would be. Leaning forward, putting a hand out just to see what it would feel like. Telling myself, “everything is going to be okay.”
Then truly, then, is when I saw them, all around me, not a single word leaves my mouth. Only what seems like the biggest smile that ever crossed my face.