By: Christelle MarambaTomorrow.
Is it going to be the same as every day? ~*~ My father was sitting in front of me. He was looking at me like I need help. Maybe I do. ~*~ “What happened?” he asks. “I don’t know.” I answer. “That’s what you always say.” He says. “That’s what always happens.” I answer again. And tomorrow, we will have this conversation again. ~*~ The next day. “What happened?” he asks. “I don’t know.” I answer. “That’s what you always say.” He says. “That’s what always happens.” I answer again. And tomorrow, we will have this conversation again. ~*~ The next day. “What happened?” he asks. “I don’t know.” I answer. “That’s what you always say.” He says. “That’s what always happens.” I answer again. And tomorrow, we will have this conversation again. ~*~ I’m guessing you are confused now. Let me explain please. Hi. I’m Erik. I’m 19. And I’m a druggie. ~*~ I was smoking a joint. I was drinking beer. I was with friends who were doing the same. I was happy. I was living. ~*~ I was snorting cocaine. I was taking shots. I was with friends who were doing the same. I was happy. I was living. ~*~ I just shot up heroin on my arm. I just sat back and let it sink in. I was with friends who were doing the same. I was happy. I was living. ~*~ “What happened?” he asks. “I don’t know.” I answer. “That’s what you always say.” He says. “That’s what always happens.” I answer again. And tomorrow, we will have this conversation again. ~*~ I was disoriented when I got the call. The call from the hospital. The call that changed my life. I was still coming down from my high. I dropped the phone when they told me. ~*~ I was home alone. My dad is dead. ~*~ I was confused. I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t mean to. I DIDN’T MEAN TO! ~*~ I came with them calmly. I didn’t fight them. There were witnesses. And I didn’t know what happened. ~*~ Apparently, I was asking for money. Apparently, he didn’t give it to me. Apparently, I didn’t like that answer. Apparently, he fought. But he was old. I was young. I was stronger. I was angry. He didn’t make it. I left without even knowing that I left my dad bleeding out on the floor. I left. And I didn’t know what happened. I never know. ~*~ They sent me to rehab. Then to jail. I’ll be here for fifteen years. I’d be thirty-five by then. But I didn’t want to leave. I don’t deserve to. ~*~ “What happened?” he asks. “I don’t know.” I answer. “That’s what you always say.” He says. “That’s what always happens.” I answer again. And we will never have this conversation again. ~*~ Dad, I’m sorry.
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9/2/2016 11:36:33 pm
:o
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AuthorMy name is Christelle and I like to read any kind of literary works. I will post here original works and some from other writers and I would lke to share them all with you. Enjoy! :) Archives
October 2016
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