Broken Toys...

Every time I've gone through this terrible cycle, I seem to leave something behind. In 1993, I left my art. In 2000 I left my legacy. In 2004 I lost every souvenir I've ever picked up from every port visit. In 2009, I lost my car and at least 1/3 of all I own.

Over the course of the past two years, I've lost another third of what I own and then now....

I left a few things behind. The stationary I intended to use to pull my distant family members back together. My 500 GB hard drive. My hard cover of Alex Haley's Roots along with some other books.

But, this time was different.

Each time I've gone through this cycle, a little bit of my heart died. At first, it seemed like this time was just like the others.

As I placed the last of the trash bags full of my shit outside, she felt the need to follow me. I remember saying "I got this" and asking "why are you bothering to come out here".

Women do the strangest things.

When I showed up at my aunt's door... The woman who "claims" to be my birth mother... After an hour of sitting at the door, my so-called birth mother calls the police. When they come, she tells them that she can't take me in because my cousin is coming home from jail in three days and tells me to go to a shelter?

This time was definitely different.

I called up a friend of mine around the corner. She let me leave what was left of my things at her place. A container and some clothes that were still wet from laundry I did earlier that day. From there, I just wandered.

Eventually, I would end up in a bar for about three hours. Trying to get as drunk as possible. Then I headed to the subway. Eventually, I'd get off the train in my aunt's neighborhood; but I just wandered around for a few more hours. A little bit of this is kind of foggy as I think I was able to nap at my friend's house for a little bit.

But soon, I was wandering once again. I got an offer from PA and I took it.

After 2 weeks of more damage than repair, I realized the difference. This time, I may have left what remained of my heart on Metcalf and Cypress Avenues.

Yeah, this time WAS different.

Sometime during that drunken night (or maybe even the next day). I sent her two messages. One was a screen shot of a brief conversation with my brother (see the blog entry before last) and another three words: "Thanks a MILLION".

What still lies on "Her" floor, even after she picked up the clothes she bought me for Christmas and other rubbish left from my hasted packing is my heart and most of my humanity. What little remains of that I'm saving for someone special.

Yeah, this time is way different.

--

Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile