Writing Exchange III 06-07

Writing Exchange III November 19, 2006

Journal #15
Everyday I wake up in a house full of tweakers and every night I can’t go to sleep because of all the fighting and drunks around the house making some kind of racket. Sometimes I’m not able to eat when I want to because I’m broke or because the tweakers break into the fridge and steal the only food that I’ve got. Everyday I have to deal with some kind of fool trying to fight me or some ****.I deal with all this stress not through emotion, but with weed. It seems like when I take the first hit off a blunt, that all my trouble goes away. It’s hard when you don’t have a mom to talk to like everyone else. I have to live down the street from the person that killed my mom.

Journal #16
I remember cold nights And bloody fights. I remember used needlesAnd dirty dealers. I remember the tease of weedAnd the need for speed.I remember pain and sorrowAnd hearing, “hold on til tomorrow.” I remember gun shotsAnd laughter. I remember drunk peopleAnd parking lots. I remember the sound of my mom’s painful cries. I remember the hurtful piercing lies. I remember aching words And thanking the birds That I lived through the night. I remember long walks and ice creams.I remember hearing my sister’s harmful screams. I remember hugs and kisses And **** those *******. I remember the sound of a car door slammed shutAnd the face of a little girl crying in the back window. I remember court datesAnd long debates. I remember cold nightsAnd bloody fights. I remember used needlesAnd dirty dealers. I remember hurting people I love.I remember apologizingAnd paying for what I did. I remember tears of joy and happy faces. I remember the smell of gloryAnd my beginning of a new story.

Journal #17
Ever since I can remember my Dad has used drugs and drank beer. While he was drunk, he would beat on my Mom, which later on led to a divorce. And when I was about 9 years old, my Mom got cancer. At first I did not think anything of it. But about two years later it started getting bad. To cope with it I started to smoke weed. She would ask me to do simple stuff and I would be such a jerk. She would give me anything I wanted and she would buy her own clothes from the Salvation Army.She fought her cancer for four years and I wish I wasn’t such a little punk during this time. Then one morning, I wake and she is gone. I blink my eyes and I am at a funeral. It is my mom’s. I look all around me and all I can see is my dad crying and wishing he hadn’t done what he had done to her.

Journal #18
I remember when I was little, hearing parents fight, keeping me up all nightScary stories my sister would tell, looking at my mom in a jail cell.I remember when I was nine, Mom and Dad got divorced. All that was left was the very worst. Mom was always gone, drugs kept her moving along. Having no idea how we were going to survive, me and my older sister cry.We always think about the worst because nothing positive comes from divorce.I remember the day my Mom got sent away, she was sent to prison, those were by far the worst days.To think about my mom in a prison cage I would cry every night hoping my mom didn’t get into a fight.I remember the two years I spent without my mom, she was nowhere in sight. I thought everything would be alright.I felt so alone and betrayed, those were my thoughts everyday.I remember the day my mom came home, butterflies started to get to me and tears rolled from my eyes. When I saw my mom I had no choice but to cry.And all of the time she was gone I thought she might not see me again, so I was in fright when I was at my Mom’s sight.Tears of joy rolled down my face, I felt so loved and that was my favorite day.I remember meeting my daddy’s new wife; I thought, who is this **** trying to replace the place in my dad’s heart where all of the thoughts of my mom had once been. My dad is still married to her and she ain’t all that bad. I thought that she would be mean to me but she was nice and knows my mom will always have a place in my dad’s heart. I remember my whole life as if it were just yesterday that this all happened to me. Still to this day I love my mom and dad just as much as I did in 1992. So many years and they still love you!!!

Journal # 19
I remember….what a way to start a journal entry. I don’t want to remember the things that have happened to me. I know there were some great times I have had, but they always ended the same: coming home to a house that smells of alcohol. I know that remembering good times always ends bad. I don’t want to remember the past. Every evening at home, sitting in my room, waiting for a beating that I knew would come. I remember….that really makes me laugh because REMEMBERING is one of the worst pains I feel sometimes.There are a few good memories I would want to keep of this school, of the people that went and still come here. Yet every time I think of these, it always gets me thinking of my life the way it used to be. It is true things have gotten better, but the memory of what has happened will never fade. I remember things I don’t want to remember and things I would love to remember seem to be the things that fade away.

Journal #20
This morning I woke up at 5:30 AM to my niece crying. I got up, got her a bottle, and rocked her back to sleep. My alarm clock went off at 7:14 AM like it always does. I go out into the living room. My dad is still not home. He left yesterday about 5:00 PM. It is now 8:00 AM. I am late for school. My dad is still not home. I smoked, maybe six cigarettes already. I start to worry about my Daddy.I get the baby and we walk to my brother’s and use the phone. I call the casinos and get no return call. I walk home to an empty house with just me and the baby. It is about 8:30 AM and my dad comes home. We get into an argument about money. The baby cries. My dad blew 800 dollars last night and this morning. I give him the baby and go to school. I am stuck with no answers and two questions:How will we pay rent?Why can’t kids choose the family they want to be born into?