First, I laid down the mission statement.
Now, I shall give you the moment...
It was around 2:45 p.m. on a pretty chilly afternoon when everything changed. I think it's best if I took you through the whole day start to finish.
I woke up around about 11:15 or something like that. My brother was just leaving the house. The usual morning for me, waking up by myself. I've grown accustomed to the loneliness and isolation that I've had every since I've moved back in with my mother and my brother.
I had a little smoke. Marlboro Smooth 100s. My new best friend. I was think about masterbation. Funny, I know. I've had this fight with it for a while, a superstitious belief that every time I do it, I end up having a bad day. Bus since everyday has ended up being dissappointing, I decided to cave in and let loose my frustrations.
I left the house to go and visit the library to check on the internet, but first I played some one shot kill O.U.T. in the park with a few local residents that I had never seen a day in my life. That's how it's always been.
It was a bit windy and I was extremely rusty so I had a bit of a poor showing out there and I finally decided to cut my losses and move on. I hit the library up and there wasn't much action on Facebook or Myspace to speak of, so I trekked back to the house.
As I walk towards the door, I hear a honk. I turn around and it was my bro riding through in his new Camry that he had finally aquired the day before. It was a pretty cool sight to behold especially since he's waited for so long and had been through so much turmoil to get it.
So we relax and catch up for a minute and he said he wanted to go and do some shopping down at 5 Points West. I didn't think it would be a bad idea seeing that it was Saturday and there isn't too much traffic out. So I said that I might as well tag along seeing that I had a smidget of free time and it was a chance to get a new phone so that I could finally get text messages, at least.
It was a bit surreal. he asked me it if was such a bad idea to drive around, but I was convinced that Iit was a right that he had earned to use the car whenever he felt.
So we head out, get some gas and it was about to be a feel good day. We turn past the library and he's like I wanted to head down Graymont but for reasons he couldn't explain, well, he went one more street down.
Third Street/Ave. (You'll see why in a minute.)
We make the turn down 3rd and we were pretty much 5 minutes away from ballin' out for a second. Stuntin' in the westside.
That's when I noticed the car heading strangely toward the sidewalk. I say, hey, what you doin', mayne? He was like, Oh! and panicked.
Hard turn to the right.
I see a car coming towards us, then...
It was over.
Collision. Head-on. Front bumper to front bumper.
I remember that the first thing my body did at impact was turn towards my brother. Second thing was that I lead the car back to the right side of the road. Third thing I did was turn to my brother again. This time, it was immposible to turn away. He rarely ever screams in pain.
Blood immediatley starts covering his face. Scariest sight I've seen in a long time. I would say I thought that he was dying but at this point, it was nothing but reaction. Instincts. Survival.
I stepped out of the car, cursing at everything that I could see. It was a wreck and my mind was just as totaled. Just as shattered. Ripe for remolding. Brainwash.
I began fumbling to dial 911. I, literally, couldn't manipulate that phone to save my life. I hear him scream, "Call Dad! Call him! Call somebody!"
I ask him what Dad's number is and I, futily attemt to gather myself and compse in this time of utter and complete crisis.
The next few minutes can be summed up best by comparing my Mom and Dad to George Bush and Ray Nagle during Katrina.
My dad ansers and I alread knew how stupid the conversation would go. I grew with this all my life. In times of emergency, he becomes an even more aggressive asshle than he already is naturally. However, this conversation still managed to shock even me.
I tell him with the best of my abilities what happened and i could already feel the blame and, well, ignorant gale force of hot air beating through the phone.
We are on 3rd Street. (Whoops) I mean 3rd Ave. We just got into an accident.
Well, I'm at work.
From that statement alone, my nerves finally broke. I couldn't believe that as I was watching my brother basically bleed to death. I heard him say such a pathetic statement.
So I hung up on that blur of disgrace and called Mom. She was a couple of blocks away at work and she was immediately distraught. I consoled. I tried my best to calm her down as well as deal with paramedics and deal with the site of glass and scrap metal and watching my brother deal with the physical and mental anguish of the situation.
My mind flashes from past to present. Back and forth. History and reality in a neck and neck sprint through my head. Glass shattering. My brother wailing. Dust and metal flying throughoutt the car.
She appears. I flag her down. Another tough pill to swallow. Seeing her visibly shook always tears at my heart strings.
I sit down and try, yet again to keep my composure.
Dad comes. I don't know what to tell him. I don't know what to tell anyone. I don't know what to do, period.
The police officer comes to me to get some information. I try hard to convey in words, the madness that was just the last few minutes. I know it wasn't a Shaksperian compostition that I spit at the cop, but what more could you expect?
"She doesn't understand what you saying! Do you understand what that boy saying? You betta start telling the..."
"I understand sir."
That's when the gaskets just blow. I, instantely rise up and I can't get out a word that's more than 4 letters to anyone. But, I stay there. contemplating what to do now, what I should have done, what could have been, what's gonna happen, what can happen all at the speed of light.
The thing about it, though, is that I am always sub-consciously aware of everything. Always listening. I feel a shift. Not like a switch from on to off or good to bad. More like hearing the transmission of a powerful sports car going from 5th to 6th.
"Michael, come here!"
It was my mother.
She snatches me by the shirt.
"Why did you let him.."
I heard nothing else.
Society has dissappointed me for a long time. This was still an absolute low. To blame me, for anything that has occured was just a slap in the face delivered by the ammunition of a rocked launcher at point blank range.
I told off everyone. Well, not everyone. Just my parents for being so disturbingly out of line. For turning on me, in every dark corner of my life. Every one of them.
I left. Fuck it. Fuck everything. Fuck the world for fucking' me.
I... Thoughts just kept flying around my mind. Evil taking form of a NASCAR event. The Coca-Cola 600.
Why blame me? First? Why? It's all I caould think about. I've disowned my parents now. This city. I wanted to just walk on past my house and just escape this place.
I went home and smoked another cig. Tried to clear my head. I started taling it out with myself. I knew that I couldn't handle it with someone else right now. I couldn't convey this to anyone. I wanted to, though. I wanted someone to go through it with me. I felt the urge to lean on someone's shoulders. I called Joy. But it didn't help really. I wasn't ready yet. I called Lionel. he was busy. It only made me realize that I was the one that must deal with myself. And so I laid in my bed and just let the thoughts run. I couldn't control them so I just let them run rampant and tire themselves out.
I grew up two years in a matter of 10 minutes. I said to myslef that I just have to get myself together and be there. It would look horrible and hypocritical of me if I didn't... if I wasn't by his side. No matter what.
So I got up and caught the bus. I started noticing part two of this struggle. Things, body parts, began showing signs of pain. My left bicep began to hurt. My right calf felt sore. And then as I got off the bus and arrived at the hospital and decided to smoke again. I see a sort of small ledge that I could jump onto and sit down on. I don't even think about the motion because it's an everyday thing. Just plant your feet and FUCKING HELL!!!
A sharp pain in the left side of my groin. I mean it just felt wrong. Still, I was on a mission. A mission to see about my brother.
Snd so I brush it off and enter the emergency room waiting area. There they were. Mom and Dad. Instantly, I'm pissed. No explanations needed. I just lose it. But, I don't lose it externally, it was more of an internal struggle. I lost. I hated everyone in that room with me. No reasoning. From eight days old to eighty years, I was just like, fuck 'em. No lube.
I sat. Stewed. Waited. Didn't say a word. People said hey. I said ______. Stoic. Unmoved. My grandfather was like, "Pull your pants up." I said ______. I did nothing. Nobody listened to me. I'm not listening to them.
It was time to see him and it wasn't a sight to behold. I was face to face with the trigger attatched to the MP5 that was Michael Dewayne Walker. It sucked deep down inside. But outside I fell into my natural role of the off-beat father. Calm. Soothing...
Then my father came in. I was wrapped in silence. Still. Stoic. Ultimate defense. Iwas just waiting. But while I waited for the inevitable, I thought about everything again. It was all I could do all day. I had nothing to do before. Nothing new happened. This was the only event I had a reason to worry about. I even got to the point where I was desolate enough to find the smallest things that I could say that this whole thing was my fault.
Maybe I could have told my brother to just slow down instead.
Maybe me forcing the ccar slowly back to the right side of the road could have caused a second collision from another car because of the fact that I didn't look to see if any of the lanes were clear prior to turning.
Maybe I could have died.
Why was he so beat up and I came out without a visible chink in the armor?
I began to look at myself. My body. I started thinking abhout the fact that I have seemingly no scars on my body. At all.
I teared up. I closed my eyes. Fighting. then a nurse came in. I opened my eyes and an instant lake formed on the floor. She wheeled my bro off to do more medical stuff. Which left me and my dad alone.
Ye old ignorance ensued.
He made a comment about my sagging.
I told him that it just wasn't the right time to mention that.
He walks off. Mutters insults about me under his breath.
The one thing that sticks in your mind as the son or daughter is that parents hate when you say something about them under your breath about them. Especially while walking away. They usually berate you and sum things up by saying that the action is immature and childish
Thus, a 50 year old man, who just so happens to be my caretaker performing that action AND just so happening to include me AND in one fell swoop, my brother who just so happened to almost die in front of my eyes AND for it to be a comment directed negitavely toward the situation I. E. "Look at what these stupid, ignant ass boys done did now." I snapped.
Left.
Walked from the hospital to my house.
The last straw.
Ididn't know what to do now. My whole mindframe changed from being the inspiration for hope and freedom to the personification of Satan himself.
Fuck em all.
I doubted myself. My decision. My advise. My outlooks. Theories. Beliefs.
My kindness was taken for a weakness all my life. Taken for granted by many. Seen as stupid and foolish.
No more. So you don't care about me? Fine. I wish that you die a quick and early death.
I planned to go to sleep. Well, not planned. I fell asleep on the couch while watching Napolean Dynamite and not laughing nor smiling at a single thing.
I went upstairs and soon afterwards at around 8:30 my mom and my brother arrived.
Mom was on her usual bullshit spreading spree. I wasn't having it.
The only things that helped me that night was venting to Joy and discussing the accident with the only other person involved. My bro.
It was with talking with him and letting my emotions fly with her that I truly calmed down long enough to clear my head.
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
How I handled things with Trese was just the pretest.
This was the ciriculum
Life, as in the rest of it, will be the test.
And I hope that I can take my mistakes and make them into equally satisfiying triumphs.
If you were wondering, I'm still right.
I just need to take things for what they are and move on.
The bad is made to influence you to do worse for yourself
I must continue to recognize this or else I will fail.
-Crows and Doves
Up Next?
The History.
C Teezy a.k.a. V. Leonelli
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