Life As My Muse

May 13, 2011
By , Springfield, IL
Introduction:



Hey, I’m just an ordinary guy. I go to school and do everything else you do. The only difference is that my family isn’t exactly “Normal” to say the least. My Mom is Bipolar Schizophrenic and my Dad is an alcoholic. Surprisingly enough my dad is the worst of the two, and he’s the one I live with; but that’s enough of the background. The story will explain itself.

DAY ONE:



Half awake I roll over on my side and look at my phone, it’s three in the morning; but that’s not what grabs my interest. “One new message” is shown on the screen. I look at the name of who it’s from and last night starts to flood back into my head. I was texting at night and fell asleep. See last night my father and I got into a fight. He was drunk and yelling at me because he found out that instead of going to practice after school, which I do because im involved in the school drama club, I go somewhere else. Which is entirely untrue, every day I stay at school until Nine thirty then head home; but he isn’t buying it.


It starts out calm with me just saying “Okay, I talked to Symster, all my practices are going to be ending around the same time” and he continues to rant about how I am probably making up a story so I can do whatever I want. Which is when he says “After this play your not doing anything else!”


“I do the spring play every year, I have to do it”


“Well, Isn’t that too bad”


The topic then starts to talk about how I don’t have a job, don’t get me wrong I have tried as hard as I could; but nobody will hire me. He then starts to talk about how is such a saint with the job he has. Which if I may point out he waited until it was handed to him. Which is when I should have been quiet, but I couldn’t. My reply was.


“I am trying to get a job, Unlike you I put that as one of my top priorities. Not drinking, not just partying. Unlike you I would spend my money on something important. I would pay rent so that we can live in our house, not get kicked out of it because buying beer is more important than paying rent. Do you think I like to have to back out of things the school puts on just because you can’t give me money to pay for it because all your money goes to liquor in one way or another?”


Which is when he starts screaming about how I’m useless, Ungrateful, a Fagot, and every other possible name he could think of. I couldn’t take it. I keep my demeanor and head for my room. I get in there and sit on my bed, almost instantly I start bawling. Now there is one person who can make me laugh or smile when I am about to cry, and that’s who I decide to talk to. I text her with the words “I might not be going to our school next year :’(”


Why do I say this, It’s a stupid thing to say right there but its true; one thing my dad had said was do you just want me to cut the car and not pay for your out of school tuition, which would mean I would be going to a different school. Normally this wouldn’t be something I would tell people, but this girl is different. She isn’t just the normal kind; she’s nice, caring, real, and beautiful. But she’ll never like me. I mean I need to get with the reality of the world. I am an outcast, I may have a knack for theatre and a love of writing but nobody likes me and I doubt that’s going to change.


It’s around this time when she replies and we have a conversation that I don’t completely remember, but I soon fall asleep and am up to where I am now; three ten in the morning with a heart spilling over with sadness and feeling hated by my family. I could not have asked for a better day. Grab the keys and I am off on my way to school. The ride to school is silence for me. Normally the radio is playing music or some annoying talk show is on air; but not today. Today, I just sit in silence and cry.
When I finally get to school I change, no longer am I sad. I’ve put on my mask, covered my emotions in a shroud of apathy and the day goes on melancholy at best. Go to class get made fun of, go to my next class get made fun of, same for all my classes.


Then my favorite part of the day comes along musical practice. Beginning to make my way to the small gym, which is where practice is held, I think of yesterday night and I have to duck away as the wall of apathy starts to shatter and I again cry. I gather myself and head to practice.


Practice is fun, I go on adventures with some friends, talk to some people, but most of my time is spent talking to one person. It’s basically a continuation of our unfinished conversation that we had last night, But I show her a poem I wrote that morning that reads:



“The world does not need me
For no-one shall heed me.
All alone in a sea
Of sameness quite dark
My heart it does swell
On my face leaves a mark
On the slate that I hold
Emotion written in bold
I wipe it away
And fake them all day.”



After a bit of silence she picks up her pencil and starts to write on the paper while saying here is what it should say
“Nichaious is the best”


I look at it and smile, a real smile. She then says “I have something that I have to send to you” and gives me a smile. I start thinking what it could be, but come up with nothing and decide to continue on with practice. The rest of the day just seems to slide by. We go through the songs, the dances the places, everything. Then the end of rehearsal comes along. My least favorite part of Musical practice; I say my goodbyes and off I go, leaving my haven of fun to return to the dismal life of being unwanted. By the time I get home late enough that everyone is asleep so I decide to try and do the same. It doesn’t work; sleep does not come to me easily right now. The weight of everything on my mind is too much that I can just lie and think about it; finding my only refuge in the fact that I’m not like my family. When I remember what I was told. I grab my phone to see that I have a new message I open it and read. Surprised to find a poem that I wrote about a year ago.
“Im not superman, but I do what I can.
I can’t save the world, but I can rescue you.
And we can go somewhere, somewhere the world is right.
So take my hand. And come along

I’ll take you there where nothings wrong
Where we can talk, and be ourselves.
In this place, so magical

Right here by your side, is where I want to be.
With nothing stopping me, from being me.

Im not superman, but I do what I can.
I can’t save the world, but I can rescue you.
And we can go somewhere, somewhere the world is right.
So take my hand. And come along

Out there you are waiting, waiting just for me.
You want a superman, but I am just a boy.
I offer you my heart, but you turn your back.
You say you want a superman.
You see where I am.
You found your superman.

Im your superman, Ill I do what I can.
I can’t save the world, but I can rescue you.
And we can go somewhere, somewhere the world is right.
So take my hand. And come along

You found your superman,
You found your superman.
It feels so wonderful
You found your superman”



I smile to myself and remember what the song was about, hope. Something I had given up a long time ago but was just brought back in a flash. My mind drifts off, not to sleep but deep thought. The one I remember the most is just thinking how if I could go back and change it all; I wouldn’t change any of it. I might not be in the greatest spot of my life, but something I have come to learn is that people like me for who I am; not who I can be. Even if people don’t reciprocate the feelings I have it doesn’t matter. I’m being true to myself and that is all that should really matter. Then finally sleep welcomes me into its glorious embrace.


My dreams are not those that I would like to have everyday, full of terror and fear. I do not know if they have a meaning and I don’t think I would like to know. The meaning of such a dream cannot be a good one. I hear the haunting echoes of my fathers screaming and find myself crying on my way to school again. Unsure whats going on I look at the clock it plainly display 11:11. Everyday at this time I make a wish so I decide why not and quietly whisper to my self. “I wish everyone could just be happy and get along; with no yelling, no mistrust, and no hate.”
The roads seems to fade away and I’m left in a area of blackness after a short while everything just kind of fades away and I see the ceiling of my room. I roll over and check the clock four thirty in the morning. I smile thinking that school will be a comfort.



Day Two:




The day does not seem to start of well. I get out of bed and start to get ready for school when I start to feel strange, the world seems as if it starts to turn black and then I slump to the floor. When I finally come back around only five minutes had past which meant that nobosy but me knew that this had happened and I planned to keep this from my family. No unnecessary cause for concern. It seemed normal for me to pass out considering that in the last four days I had gotten a total of about four hours of sleep. I sit up and decide to stay like that for a while, I then get up and move around for about fifteen minutes quietly gathering my stuff so I may leave for school. The feeling rushes over me again and I lean and hold onto the wall until it passes. At this point I decided I am not driving to school and tell my dad that I am not feeling well enough to go to school right now so he calls them and says that I’m not feeling well and that I will be spending the day at home. The day was completely uneventful until one in the afternoon. I feel good enough that I can drive myself to the school without getting in an accident and that’s exactly what I do.


At school the day begins to turn around and escalate toward eventful. We have fun in my last hour class which is the only class I was able to attend after getting there so late. Near the end of class you can feel the anticipation in the air; everyone wanting to leave and go home. Not I though, I was waiting to go to practice; the only place where I can be myself, the only place where I am truly accepted. It starts and right on time my friend Mari walks in after a short conversation of nothing but facial expressions we go to visit 012. The code name we have established for something I doubt she would like everyone to know. We skip down the hallway and for a while I escape the thoughts that dampen my mood and just have fun. We talk we have fun and then we go back to get to work; which isn’t exactly what we do. Instead we slink off and go leave notes in people’s lockers. Some are personalized some are not, some make absolutely no sense to her and some make no sense to me, but that’s normal for us. After we get done gallivanting the hallways and head back to do work for real the work is done and we go to eat. The food is always good and we eat until we can eat no more and then we play around for a while more before we actually practice on stage. On many occasions do I think of saying something to Ashliegh, but when I decide to I just shy away and make up some lame excuse to justify it to myself. When I think about it the excuses are stupid and would never make sense; but at the time they always seem true. In the end I happen to stumble out the word hi and manage to walk away. One thing that not many people may agree on is that I am extremely shy; not in the way that if I meet someone new im scared or nervous to talk to them but in the way that when I like some the words just don’t come out. They leap around just out of reach of my mind and the only ones I can catch are either one syllable or a stutter.


Practice comes to an end and we all say our thank yous and our good byes. Seeming as if the night would ever end we trudge to the doorway eager to get home and rest for another day of six in the morning to ten at night fun. The drive seems to be the same as every other day. The music plays and seems to portray my mood with medium tempo songs. The night fades and I find myself at home. Where yet again I must face reality that my home life involves things which I both love and hate.


I’m greeted at the door with the sound of a telephone conversation. My cousin on the phone with a friend of his which means that I am currently safe from any yelling that might occur otherwise. I head to my room and lay down hoping to sleep and miss any trouble that may be brought up after the phone call is finished. I grab my phone and plug it in. Take a quick glance and fall into a sleep that comforts me with silence. No dreams today.





Day Three



They all seem like they’re blending together. The same things happen every morning all through out the day. I get up, get ready, and go to school. At school absolutely nothing happens. Class after class of nothing, I start to fade in and out of sleep through my classes. Something I’m sure the teachers would not appreciate but they have other more pressing things to worry about than a kid like me sleeping. Homeroom comes around and I go there hoping to sleep but I can’t seem to do it. Instead I write:

Of all that I know
My knowledge does grow
What does it mean
If I keep my slate clean
The writing on bold.
I used to think cold
I now know its needed
For me to be heeded
Without my emotion
I just cause commotion
and worry to all
I make the call
And my wall it shall fall
But I wait for the hate
To clean up my slate
Start after the bad
So I do not become mad
I refuse to start sad
Instead I am glad
To have emotions behold
For again they’re written in bold
No longer im cold”




Class ends and I seem amazed at what I wrote. It didn’t take any thought it just came straight from the heart, normally it doesn’t happen like that. The only other time I wrote straight from the heart was the superman song. The other two classes zip right by as does practice, which is when I arrive home. I am happier than I have been for a while. I don’t really know why but, I have guesses. One being, that not only did I regain hope, but I wrote from the heart as well; which is when they mean the most. I walk inside and I don’t hear a word. No comments about how im home early, nothing about how I am a failure, or that im ungrateful or anything, Just the normal Friday normal party. It makes me happy to know that finally things seem normal for at least one day of my life. The day continues and I then discover that my dad isn’t home. I dint notice earlier because with everyone crowded around the table it just seemed natural that he would be there. Then as I continue to think I realize that a comment would have been made if he were here. So I just shrug it off and live the day to its fullest potential. I join in the festivities. The food that is expertly cooked and games that I am amazing at. I would wish for nothing more than to live like this every day, but I couldn’t live without my dad. He may be an obnoxious drunk but he’s still my father. I am being very nice currently but it probably helps that I haven’t been screamed at yet today if you don’t count our morning conversation where I was told that I should quit being a stupid idiot and start warming the car up. The only reason he cared is that he wanted me to drive him to the gas station and it was to cold in the car for him. But if that is all the grief that I get from him in one day I am perfectly fine by it.


The festivities soon change to the adults drinking which is when I decide that it might be time that I retreat to my room before they get belligerent. I lay in my room and wait for sleep. It eludes me yet again. I continue trying to fall asleep hoping of pleasant dreams but not expecting them. As I start to fall asleep I am awoke by a banging on my door. My cousin is at the door saying “Its Mario time” which is when I just start to laugh. He knocks again saying “ You awake, Its Mario time”


Thinking that I might as well just go with it and play the game, I reply “Here we go” in the best attempt of a Italian accent that I can do. The game is great fun considering it is the first time I have played a video game since I joined musical this year. To anyone who knows me they would consider this unbelievable; but believe me, It’s true. After a while we “Mario Partied” ourselves out which is when I took the opportunity to retire to my room and attempt to catch up on some much needed sleep. For a while I just sit and think about today, the good and the bad. I toss and turn listening to the sounds of the night until I eventually drift off to sleep and wait for yet another day to dawn and bring with it all the blessings and hardships that come with life.

Day Four



The day starts off great. Nobody in the house had drank anything at all which is quite a surprise for them. I drove my dad around for a while; back and forth between the diner he works at. I hear nothing; not a single word of hate uttered. I start to think to myself that there is always hope that people will change ir think differently. I should know that hope better than anyone else actually but that is a a story for a different time. My mood continues to increase throughout the day, but there is one moment in the day that I knew things would be going downhill. I’m in my room setting up the computer systems when I hear the tell tale fizz of a can being opened. I think for a second that it could be my sister getting a soda but I then realize that she isn’t at the house. My mind then quickly scopes to the other possible ideas. My cousin that lives with us could be getting something to drink; but I can hear him downstairs playing Duck Hunt, screaming “I got that duck! Come on!” but I must have realized that all good things have a bad part just like every rose has its thorn. The one I just found was that if the day goes very well up to the afternoon then it has to get really bad in order to make up for itself being nice. I prayed and hoped that I was wrong; but it didn’t seem good. I attempt to stay in my room and just waste away the day. It’s the I cant see you, you can’t see me of trouble. But it doesn’t work, it never works. At this point I really wanted to make sure that my fears were confirmed so I went into the kitchen to make myself some food. There at the table I see my suspicions confirmed. There at the table sits my dad; beer in one hand cell phone in the other. He then looks up at me and says


“I need you to take me to Rendell’s”


“sure, what time” I reply to keep the conversation at a minimum so that I cant do anything to upset him.


“Whenever I get ready” is the snide reply I hear back; which is when I begin to thank that leaving my room was a bad idea. I was unsure of how long he would take before he wanted to leave. On the best case he would want to leave immediately, before he had time to get drunk; but it doesn’t look good. I return to my room with the hope that any second I’ll hear the knock on my door saying that he is ready to go; but an hour passes and I hear nothing. Then another hour passes and still nothing at my door, I again go to the kitchen and decide I actually need to get food this time when I see him slumped at the table with empty beer cans littering the kitchen. After some inaudible mumbling that I shrug off as him just talking to himself I make a sand which and start to go back to my room.


“What are you deaf or something, I ask you to do one thing and you cant even do that” is all that I hear. I stop dead in my tracks and turn around to face him.


“I’m sorry but I didn’t hear you ask me to do anything”


“I didn’t ask you I told you to start the car and prop open the back.”


“I cant start the car and open the back, the key only does one thing at a time”


“Whatever you cant even do that” which is when he gets up in a flustered rage grabs the keys hanging next to the door to do it himself. About five minutes later when he comes back into the house tosses away his empty can of beer replaces it with a new one and makes the comment “ooh, that was really frickin hard to do!”.


I just sit down and ask him when he would like to go. He then tells me in some demeaning and ridiculing tone that he has to change and that we will go whenever he is good and ready to go I don’t argue, I just ignore it and sit in the living room and wait. After about fifteen minutes he finally is ready to go; we make for the dorr and get halway out of it when I hear a call for me to wait. I stop doing what I was doing and head back inside when I see him grab another beer for the ride. I walk to the car and get in. He soon follow suit and we are ready to go. I pull out of the house and instantly he grabs the radio and turns it off with the reply of “I;m not listening to your music” with the added racial slur towards the kind of music that happened to be on the radio at that time. I shrug it off seeing as I didn’t necessarily care for the musix that was playing anyways.


We then get on the highway whish is where he starts to pick out everything I am doing wrong according to his standards. If im not in the lane he wants me to be in then I hear it. If I let someone pass me I hear it. If I don’t go above the speed limit I hear it. He continues to grumble for quite some time which is when I ask him if he could just not talk. He get mad and starts screaming in my face about how its his car and I will do whatever he tells me to do because its his car. I just shrug it off and ignore it hoping that h will stop yelling eventually but it doesn’t happen. He continues for quite some time which is when I should have said nothing but again I couldn’t I say “Dad, There is a reason the steering wheel is on my side and not yours” which is when an argument breaks out and he adds in his usual threats of your never driving my car again and abunch of other stuff. All of this doesn’t bother me until I hear the words


“Do you know how much I hate you right now?”


In a strangely calm voice I reply “What is your problem”


Which is when he says “My only problem is you”
At this point I really don’t know what to think and I don’t remember the rest of the drive. The next thing I remember is dropping him of at Rendell’s and then leaving and as soon as I get onto the road just sobbing uncontrollably. I really don’t know why. It got so bad that I couldn’t even see or concentrate on the road so I pulled off the road and just sat and cried. Five minutes pass and I am still sobbing as hard as possible with my head leaning on the steering wheel. After another five minutes there are no more tears, just a pain in the bottom of my stomach and the feeling of crying. I get out my phone and text someone. Not my mom or my sister. I text the person that always has the perfect thing to say; the one thing that can make me smile. We talk for a while and I then get back on the road and head home. When I get home I talk to her some more. The only part of the conversation that I really remember is that I said


“you probably think this is stupid just like everyone else does, but even though I know you don’t like me I still like you…, And I haven’t given up hope yet”


I don’t remember anymore than that. I don’t even remember her reply or if she did relply, but just saying that made me feel better. When I was younger I would just hide my emotions and never let anyone know how I feel. I still do a little bit of that but when I think about and I want to share my feelings and I do; it normally makes me feel better. Why exactly I don’t know, but it just does. I sit and think then soon I drift into peaceful sleep knowing that tomorrow wll be peaceful as my dad wont come home for two days. Its terrible that I’m happy he won’t be home, but I need time away from him for me to revert to my normal happy go lucky self. Dreams drift in and out none staying long enough to let me remember whether they be of importance to me.

Day Five



Nothing happens today, I am home by myself just sleeping drifting in and out of the relaxing sleep that a need so much. The only time sleep seems to come to me easily is during the day. I don’t know why but I have my guesses. When I cant seem to sleep I talk to people. I get random messages from people I don’t know with area codes from Kentucky. It all just makes me laugh and think. The bad balances out with good days as well. Which is when I begin to think about the previous day and how things went so well and then they turned terrible. I fear what tomorrow may be like yet it intrigues me to see if it will be bad or not. My dad comes home tomorrow and Comcast comes as well to set up internet in the house. The potential that tomorrow has to be terrible is very great that it worries me. It doesn’t worry me enough to keep me from sleep as soon after thinking such I fall asleep awaiting the next day, Monday.





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