Wednesday, April 18, 2012

More than words on a page

I am a writer.  Never claimed to be the  best in the business but being the most real as possible I am shooting for the title.

This short story I would like to turn into a novella and I can use input from my fans and readers.  I am trying to capture rage, anger and betrayal in unlimited proportions.  

This is nothing more than just words a page right now. (no pun intended) It is nothing special and not edited I would like to know how people feel when they read it. I hope Capote was guiding my pen. 

Hope you all enjoy it. 

I didn’t ask to be on the ground in the heart of East Atlanta.  I look like some cracked out zombie with no gauge hope and no desire of wanting to return from which I came.  

I know I am a fool to wait out here for a man that cares very little about what happens to me.  The most recent events still slides up and down my brain and my desire is to not allow the thought to leave.  I am more addicted to the anger than I am to the drug.

I am waiting in the van with Lydia, who is nothing more than bad taste and bullshit all rolled into one. Mark was talking to Sam about me staying at their place.  The next thing you hear is yelling.

“Take that lying nigger with you” yelled Sam.

I never would have thought that could come out of his mouth.  I have been there for Sam since his boyfriend threw him down the stairs and he was a sketchy mess.   I remember a skinny tweaked out frail guy walking back and forth between some entrance way and his truck.

I said “Hey man are you ok. You have to be careful.  The police are out here and you are looking sketchier than hell.”

“Yeah man I am fine” he quietly said.

I was surprised that he was able to squeak those words out. It is interesting reminiscing about times that are easily forgotten by others.People tend to let go of hurt they have caused and the hurtful always pray for forgiveness but not for judgment.

Reminiscing has to wait.  I see Mark finally have graced me with his presence. It is only two hours past my emergency call for help.  I am sure in relationships where two people care about each other deeply a lack of urgency for your partner’s emergency request is always common.  This is what he calls love.

“You alright Grant.  You want something to eat.”

I see that Mark is energized and healthy after a night of partying with some random bastard.

“I don’t want anything to eat Mark. You know what I want. I want to get hi for once and have a good time.  You don’t even have to worry about what happens to me afterwards.”

Mark is looking at me as if a ghost has spoken to him. 

“Come on Grant lets sit down over here and talk.”

That is his code word he always uses when he needed to take control of a scenario. You see his main concern was how to get me out of his hair that way I am no longer a bother to him.  The crack whore Mark fictionally created can be erased with the same stroke of his hand that put me into existence.  

“So what do you want to talk about Mark?”

He looks fake and calm while trying to play this sick game of being rational.  He did just as much ice as I did. I saw with my own eyes and I don’t care how many so called denials he will spit out from that forked tongue of his.

“Let’s talk about what you told me earlier.”

“Which part baby.  The part that I feel more helpless and hopeless at my so called home in SC than I do in any other place or the part of wanting to just overdose on the street like a common junkie so I can be out of your way.”

“You don’t believe that Grant. What about your writing?”

“I don’t even know if I am good at it. I can’t get any help with it whatsoever.  Nobody reads what I write.  I started writing to try and do something with what pitiful part of my godforsaken life I have left.  They are just words on a page. They don’t mean anything.”

I got the words coming out of my mouth but I could not stop my feelings from exploding all over the place. Doubt, despair and depression has soaked in me and found this point as the proper time to raise hell.

“Grant you don’t believe that.  You seem to change like night and day when you party.”

“Mark I am so tired of you saying that same shit every time you claim to want to have a serious conversation.  Here is a news flash.  These feelings have always been in me. They did not just start. I have been angry at many things you just never cared to hear them no matter what state I am in.”

I meant every word I said. I am so tired of Mark wanting to prove himself right.  That part of him was more important than truth ever was.   I can’t believe how many times he has left me on corners or lied about anything that you can think of.  

The one thing we both agree on is that the choices I made have allowed him to do this to me again. I have not learned my lesson.  Once again I put myself in the position of not taking care of myself.

When will I understand that Mark does not do anything unless it benefits him.  How easily he can discard someone is next to sociopathic.  

“So what do you want to do now Grant.”

“Don’t worry about it.  I told you want I wanted to do.”

Mark went into his wallet and took out thirty five dollars.  He glanced back and forth to make sure that I was not looking to see what he had in his billfold.  He insults me with such behavior. I have never stolen anything from him and he treats me like some sort of rat filth.

“This is all the money I have so don’t ask for anymore.”

What an asshole.  I asked for a boyfriend and I get thirty-five dollars that was given in an apprehensive fashion. I am sure later when all the dust clears and I am back in my hopeless home he will tell me how everything is my fault but yet he forgives me. 

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