Telegraph Ave

Chapter 10: Flashes

" X... there's no point of you even being here at this school. You don't mean anything around here no more."

"Nobody likes weirdos nigga."

"You sicken me whenever I see your face, get off the team man. You ain't gonna start next year anyway."

"Why you wanna go in the hallway. So you can get my number, I don't like you."

"X I'm calling to tell you I got another boyfriend love. Sorry."

"We're not going to use you in this game. Either you don't take advanced classes or you continue to take them and miss games."

"You're awkward, and got no drip. That's why no girl wanna fuck with you."

"Are you gay?"

"I don't fuck with niggas That ain't got money."

"That nigga ugly af, put him on the list."

"When the season starts. You're suspended for 2 games, and can't step on the practice field for 3 weeks."

"I think suicide is the best answer for you jit, cause you're going to have to deal with this for the rest of your life!"

My eyes open, I shoot up in bed. My head thumps from the many voices that are trapped in the darkest corners of my memories. Sweat drapes my face and dampens the palms of my hands.

No... Not now... I say to myself, for everything is just now going great with my life. I stand to my feet walking to my closet getting a towel to wipe myself. It all felt so real. Felt as if, I was going through the same thing all over again. From my disloyal friends to me being physically hurt by words that stuck to me like hot glue. I grab a shirt out of my drawer in front of my tv and descend to the floor. My clock read 1:03 am, God... it's not even dawn...

I attempt to take my mind off of those horrific memories, but my eyes begin to burn from watering tear ducts..

It was all a dream... but it wasn't a dream...

I haven't had a flashback since I left Phoenix, but some things just don't change and it hurts. Hurts, knowing that it's still there when you thought it disappeared forever. It's not the case... I thought to myself placing my face in the palm of my hand. Just because I was different from others, didn't mean I suppose to be an easy target. At least that's what I think, but people are cruel. I sniffle, fighting to keep the stinging tears in my eyes, as I stare out into the windy night.

Reminiscing, my soul becomes hollow, and dread overcomes my emotions. I stare into the nothingness of my dark quiet room and remember this atmosphere being my old comfort. Sitting in the dark by myself with no one else by my side, reflecting on how depressing my life became. I longed to be happy, but melancholy kept me on strings, like Pinocchio. Playing out my emotions, and allowing me not to express them with precision.

That... can't be me anymore...

I grit my teeth, throwing on the shirt I chose out of my drawer. I know my mother is asleep, and when I usually don't have my grandmother or aunt to comfort me, she's who I usually go to. Now I have neither. So instead of moping, I rise to my feet flipping my light switch, going inside of my closet again. I scramble, digging inside of all my bags, searching. Searching, for what felt like an exhausting eternity seeking my remedy of a pessimistic soul. Eventually, I finally felt the smooth surface of leather touch my fingertips.