Memories Bequeathed

Chapter 3

In case you were wondering, I am currently in a holding cell. While writing this, right now. I doubt you were wondering anyway, but I thought that I may as well tell you. I've got nothing better to do. So yeah, life fucking sucks.

Justin Wasserman and his gang who used to beat me threw a brick through a car window. Any guesses as to whose window it was? That would be correct. It was mine. Can you also guess who was there and happened to get arrested? Yep, me again. Guess what else? It was my fucking window. As soon as they threw the brick, they took off running. I picked up brick, astonished, not knowing how to react. It was bad timing. A police patrol car saw me next to a car with a broken window, holding a brick. They wouldn't listen to "excuses" or reasoning. I told them I was innocent, that I was the victim. I told them what I saw and they told me that I didn't see what I told them I saw. It's not fucking complicated. But, instead of listening, they told me that everything I said would be used against me. 

In life, I realize, we must be patient. Human stupidity is not a finite thing. It is an infinite and complicated force which isn't to be reckoned with, for the extremity of it can shock you.

In eighth grade my class was talking about Germany and how fast nazism spread. I mentioned how my grandmother, a German Jew, has a swastika and German eagle on her birth certificate. Her sister, my great aunt, whom is just one year older does not. It's actually a pretty interesting piece of information. However, upon hearing this, Amy Berger gasped, shocked. She jumped up, covering her mouth with both hands, her eyes were wide with fear and surprise. Her covered mouth was open wide, as she tried not to ask the horrible thought about to burst forth from her lips. But, after a while could no longer hold it in and dared she ask it.

"You're grandmother was a nazi?"

I did mention that I was Jewish, right? In a Jewish school...

So I did the one thing I could. I did the one thing I taught myself to do in the face of idiocy.

I went with it.
I pretended like it was okay.
I acted as if I was okay.

I said yes.

"Yes, Amy. Yes, my Oma is a nazi."

Yes. I am okay.
No, I am not sad, or miserable, or lonely.

Yeah, fuck yeah - sure, she's a nazi.
I'm fucking superman.
You wanna be a unicorn?

Go for it.

Anything is possible when you have lost all capability of giving a damn and nobody else cares enough to listen. Anything is possible when you don't give a fuck anymore.

Anyway...

I recently read that when someone apologizes to you, you should say, "I accept your apology." You know, if you do. But, you should never say that it's okay. Never. That makes it seem as if whatever that other person did to hurt you was okay. And then it is permissible to do it again, and again, and again. It makes it okay for them to do it until there is nothing left of you. I guess that it's too late for me. 

Sorry if this part of my story doesn't make sense. I've been fighting depression for a long time and sometimes it's hard to think straight. I'll get back to the people part soon. I guess that there isn't much of a plot, really, or i don't know. I'm just trying to make sense of it all while explaining to you. All of you.

It being life, of course.

Sorry.

No I'm not. I don't know. 

You should be.

I don't fucking know anymore.
I don't know anything anymore.

Well, up next: Sammy Clement.

You will get a handful, you ungrateful bitch.

You tried to kill me.

Nobody can say what I am doing is bad. I write. All that I am doing is recording the innocents, making them real, proving they happened.

It's in your power to make sure it doesn't get out.

-------------------------------------

Author's Note

What do you guys think? 

Let me know in the comments, and don't forget to vote! 

- NerdilyNerdy