Unlearn Fear and Hate

And Then The Red Washed Away

The sounds of the city echoed around me, car horns and road rage bouncing between the walls of the alleyways. Mixed with these noises was the splashing puddles beneath my feet, the light rain making my pale hair stick to my cheeks beneath a hoodie. It always seemed to be raining in the ghetto of New York. Never sunny or cloudy. Always just...wet. It was the same thing every day, the same cold and unrelenting rain, the same broken feeling around the cracked pavement, the same crumbling buildings, and the same way up and down the same damn sidewalk. So yeah, I guess it surprised me to see something...well new.

In the back alley of an old bakery, almost unnoticeable, were three simple words written in white paint.

"Follow Your Dreams".

Graffiti wasn't anything new. It was everywhere, covering what had once been businesses, before Mom had up and left, taking all the joy with her. But the graffiti here was never happy. It was never inspirational or uplifting or even colorful. It was just there. And yet despite all of this, here they were, these three simple words telling you.

"Follow Your Dreams"

The phrase echoed in my head, making me stop mid-stride in a dark and grimy puddle. The longer I stared the more I found myself turning to the wall and walking forward, reaching out a hand to lightly trail down the brick. My mouth twisted into a butchered smile, small and almost hysterical laughter rising in my throat.

"Follow you dreams huh?"

The laughter died and I was left grimacing at the message. My hand stopped on the wall, pressing hard into it's texture. My foot dragged forward, making me jump at a loud noise breaking the outward silence of the alley. When I looked down...there it was. A red spray paint can, with an opened paint can next to it and a brush covered in white paint long forgotten inside. My smile grew wider, stooping to pick up the spray paint. Still full. I lifted my head, reading the message again and listening to a bitter laugh finally escape past my tongue.

"Follow...what? Fantasies?"

I didn't realize what I was doing until red stained my hands and sleeves, dripping onto the damp ground. Now reading across the message, was the stark word: Cancelled. Coming out of my haze, I felt hot tears dripping down my cheeks, mixing in contrast with the cold of the rain. And out of those tears, came choked words.

"Dreams, fantasies..they're all make believe. They don't exist."

My hand loosened around the can, the muffled 'clink' barely reaching my ears when it hit the ground. All I could hear was Mom's soft voice telling me,

"Don't worry. I'll be right back. I promise."

I had believed for the longest time that she would keep her promise. That one day I would hear the door unlock and smell fresh pastries from this same bakery. But she lied.

My back hit the brick, sliding  down to the wet ground, while my body shook with uncontrollable sobs.
She'd never come back. She'd up and left without telling me or even Dad and hadn't said a word to us since. She'd left me with a shell of him, to learn how to survive on my own and figure out how to live life without parents. And since then, I'd found out that dreams were supposed to stay dreams. Because when you got your hopes up too high, someone would come around and crack them over their knee, leaving behind nothing but disappointment and a bloody nose. I'd had no one left to count on, no one left to call family, no one to come find me in that rain. No one to hold me up from the depression clawing at the corners of my head. So I sat there, my sobs heard by the air and my pain eased by a dark, sinking void, to the point my body crumpled, leaving me sleeping with the rain.

I was so caught up in my isolation, that I couldn't see the dark figure look around the corner of the old bakery and run over to my side, pushing away the hair from my wet face. So numb that I didn't feel the hands slip under my legs and shoulders, hauling me upwards with a grunt and away from that dark alley. Down the same sidewalk, up the set of stairs and into the same room where she'd promised...she'd promised....she would be right back. I was in so much pain, that I couldn't see the figure lay me in bed, brushing the damp hair off my forehead and stealing a small kiss. Caught up in so much of my past, that I didn't see what family I still had. That I had Dad, still struggling to be the same guy for the little girl with the dreams and a smile, with bright blonde hair and a pink dress.

So much so, that I just couldn't see that I really wasn't all that alone.