the end of something that was so great.

July 31, 2008 at 4:06 am (Uncategorized)

          I have always wondered why people are given the lives that they are born with. Why are some people born poor and others born rich? Why do some children have two parents and others only  have one? Why do some of us have the power to attain our dreams and others lack the means? Why do some people suffer so much more than others?

 

          Why? Why? Why? No particular reason that I can name.

 

It is just that something enfolded in the past few days that I would like to share. Share because it gives me comfort and security to know that someone is listening. Please listen and don’t judge.

 

          I have known him for about 7 months now. He has taught me about the world in a new untrammeled way. For the first time, I have been exposed to the utmost greed and corruption, to the degree that I want to scream and pull out my hair.

          His mother. Black widow. Thief. Uneducated. Schizophrenic. Recovered addict. (I never knew one could possibly be all these things at once). She’s on a sleeping medication that could knock me out for at least 3 days. She has dyed blonde hair and dirty teeth. Her face seems misshaped, as though the drugs had deformed her face. D told me that she was the beauty queen when she was younger. She was always told that she could make it through with her good looks. D said that how she managed to get only 2 years in jail instead of 12 or 20.

          His grandfather. M.D. Ever since his wife passed, he has been dead. He is the modern day Scrooge. I wish the ghost of Christmas past would show up at his doorstep and do something about him. Antique connoisseur. He rather buy grenades from World War II than buy dinner for his family. Too thrifty to be nice. Angry. Expressionless. He disowned D from his family for some stupid reason. He is a child.

          His Aunt. Crazy. Manipulating. She turned everyone against me. She tried to commit suicide a few years back, so anything she says goes and must be the truth, right? Death-bearer.

          D. Broken. Lonely. Horrified. Penniless. Desperate. Alone. On the verge of something I would never expect.

 

          Last night, he called me after he had swallowed his mother’s sleeping pills. “I’m OK Angela, I’ll just sleep it off,” but his voice was too sedated and relaxed to be him. Seconds later, I hear his mother rat-like scream–WHERE’s MY MEDICATION!!?? And then hysteria followed. Hysteria like I never heard before. Then the phone went dead.

          Something in my heart broke into the sky. And I didn’t know how to collect the pieces that had fallen into the clouds – for the sky was so wide and infinite – how would I ever be able to pick all of these pieces?

          I lost all my faith in this man. He was a disgrace to me. He was an embarrassment. I could never tell my parents because then they would think I was psycho for going out with a suicidal man. But all I hear is STAY AWAY, Angela, YOU DESERVE BETTER. Not to mention my little sister won’t stop pestering me about how she hates him. But, I could never tell any of them about this.

          First, I cried. Then I was angry. Then I felt bad again. Angry. Bad. Angry. Bad.

Then, I felt the stinging. There was a stinging in my heart that wouldn’t go away. A night went by and I didn’t know whether he was alive or dead. I had no contact with his mother and I knew she wouldn’t talk to me even if I did.

          I called his best friend, and we went together to the hospital. B couldn’t believe that he was in the Intensive Care Unit.

          When I first saw D I couldn’t help it that tears with falling from my eyes. I was told to put on this cape like blue suit and a pair of plastic gloves. I couldn’t control my pulsating heart anymore than I could control my tears. The only thing that was keeping D alive was a breathing tube. Otherwise he was drifting between life and death. The nurses said that he was awake earlier, but that he was too angry — he was punching them and throwing things, and so they sedated him again. For the rest of the night he was sedated.

          D looked the peculiarly the same. His hair surprisingly still looked the way I had seen him last. His eyes were plastered shut and so was his mouth. His face looked a little paler than usual. His finger had a red blinking light on it. He was hooked up to all these different machines that I didn’t want to know anything about. This man had brought this hell upon himself. HOW COULD HE?? He is lying on his deadbed at 23. The day after I spent his 23rd birthday with him. He told me that he always goes through a stint of depression every birthday. I understood, sometimes I am depressed on my birthday, but his depression was different from mine in that it was so real that I could see it in his eyes — like an animal that was fighting to get out of a trap.

          I realized for the first time in my life that I needed to get out of this. It took me a while to see it, but by God this man is mentally unstable and I can never feel whole when I’m with him, because I feel too bad. I need to do what’s best for me and what’s best for me is to move on. And let him go. It’s time for me to go. As it hard it is. I need to move on and be a teacher and live out my dream. Some people will only pull you along with them, pull them along so much that you can no longer breathe, but wonder how you got there in the first place.

          Oh, D, where have you gone?

          I still don’t know where he is now. Maybe he’s in Intensive care, I don’t know. The mother doesn’t care to let me know. I’m the reason for his breakdown.  I made a vow to God that I never want to see that woman again. Never.

As B and I were walking out the Intensive care unit, she said Hello to B with a smile and then looked at me as though I was worse than the Satan. I smiled and kind of waved with my hand. But that denigrating glare will be forever seared in my mind. Let her have him, I thought. I don’t want to have anything to do with him.

Go take care of your son, who you haven’t spoken, a kind word to in months. God sees what you do when no one else does. God sees everything.

Let it go, Angela, let it go. I still have to learn to do this.

Right there I knew it was the end for us. It had to be. I wasn’t in the right place. I was hated immensely – by a crazy person — for no reason. But that memory will always be etched in my mind. This instance will always leave me feeling sick. I will never be able to stomach anything when I think about it. Never.

          I don’t know what I will do when I see him again. If I do, I don’t know. But, if you could say a prayer for this man, I would be forever grateful.

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