My Mother

My mother, the monster beneath my bed and person who kissed my head.

My mother, followed by demons and lived like a heathen.

My mother, lover of drugs and giver of hugs.

My mother, she lived as she died, carelessly.

Leola Kay, I would like to say that on this day you died for nothing. However, you lived in moments. Some of those moments were spectacular, some were pure chose, most were things I have regressed, and some were even full of love. You were as lost as Alice in the rabbit’s hole, fallowing a high that you could never quit catch. As fake as a porcelain doll you had people even believing you gave a shit. You were a great person and amazing mother. Heroin however, was your heroine. She ruled and ruined your existence. Without her you were both the best and worst you. Because you chose to live vicariously through a high state of mind you didn’t relies how much of a low life you were. I wanted so much for a mother and instead was given a full sized child. Ironic, how you raised me to raise you. I was your mother, daughter, friend, and whipping boy. I don’t hate or even despise you. I am just disappointed in you.

The Day I Died

​Every day is a day worth living, but what constitutes a day worth dying? For me it was how I died that made it worth it. The day started like any other, I woke up early to the sound of the kids down the block playing and screaming at the playground. I always wake up before my partner Stacy who’s a heavy sleeper. Once Stacy had awoken, she made me breakfast and, while listening to NPR, she proceeded to tell me what was wrong with the government. Once she was ready we ran errands all over town. Whenever we go to town I feel like royalty, because I am always greeted with a smile and a treat no matter where we go. This particular day I stayed in the car for most of the errands due to the off and on rain showers. I don’t like rain. Once we got home from town the rain had subsided and the streets were painted with puddles. Stacy and I decided to go for a walk and enjoy the sun. We always start by walking to the playground because I love kids and today there were a lot of them playing. Once we got there we started to toss the old ball around and meet people. One of the people we met was a little girl named Emily who was 7. I liked her a lot because she smelled like peanut butter and liked to touch my face. On our way to continue our walk I went looking for Emily to say goodbye. Her mom was on her phone and Emily was no longer playing next to her. I smelled a whiff of peanut butter coming from the direction of the busy street. Emily was chasing after a ball that had wandered off. I ran over to see if I could catch the ball before her. Upon nearing Emily, I heard a big, loud, truck racing down the street. I didn’t think, I just ran as fast as I could and head butted Emily as hard as I could away from the truck. The truck slammed on its breaks, but because of the wet streets it was too late. Everything went red then white. I could hear Stacy and a few other people screaming and Emily crying. My name is Sam and I am Stacy’s pit-bull. Today I died saving a little girl named Emily. Because I died to help someone live it was worth it.

The vast reality of uncertainty makes my rebellion more raw and honest.

Who are you to judge me? I am but you, but, white, female, short, younger, older, what have you but, you all the same. Just looking for answers in a vast sea of questions that will never be directly answered to my face by The Man or really any ONE who feels they have been anointed with the ability to tell me what it is that they think that I am doing that is so wrong. Shit, no one can directly define what wrong is because they are so afraid of being wrong. Lord, he the inanimate object, is the only one to truly know the 'true' wrong from right. So, I will continue to find out for myself what it means to be good and bad, good and evil, or wrong and right. After all, I am the only one who has to live with the decisions I have made for myself. When all is said and done everyone can banish me like a leper and I can die alone like I so yearn for, but not really. Even the most introverted person seeks friendship sometime.