Immaculate Mess: His Rags Are My Riches
Immaculate Mess:
His Rags Are My Riches
The walls are covered in my thoughts, graffitied to distract myself from the blistering cold, the hunger pangs, and the intense urge I had to sleep.
I’ve learned that sleeping in the middle of a New Jersey winter is a recipe for disaster. In fact, sleeping on the streets of New Jersey is a horrible idea to begin with, but in the cold people get desperate. You know that coat you managed to scrape up enough money to buy? If you fall asleep, it’ll be taken off your back in minutes. The shoes that are falling apart but still keep some amount of heat in your body? Gone. Sayonara.
Homeless people are crafty.
So, I don’t sleep. When my stomach rumbles, I hush it and continue to distract myself by drawing on my ‘home’. My home, however, wasn’t a home at all. It was a small bridge that used to cover a rushing stream many years ago, but now covered a jungle of dead, overgrown weeds that took over after a drought a few years back.
I lived under the bridge for years. My 12th birthday, my present was an enraged father barging into the house from god-knows-where and beating my older brother senseless for reasons I had no idea of. I was frightened and I ran as far as I could, ending up under my bridge.
My home.
I never went back to the house of my parents. I didn’t want to know if my brother was killed that night and I was afraid of what I would do to my father if I ever saw him again. No, it was better for me to mind my own business and make my own life.
Heh. Some life.
________
Also, odd chapters are Mikey's point of view.
Even chapters are Franks. <3
His Rags Are My Riches
The walls are covered in my thoughts, graffitied to distract myself from the blistering cold, the hunger pangs, and the intense urge I had to sleep.
I’ve learned that sleeping in the middle of a New Jersey winter is a recipe for disaster. In fact, sleeping on the streets of New Jersey is a horrible idea to begin with, but in the cold people get desperate. You know that coat you managed to scrape up enough money to buy? If you fall asleep, it’ll be taken off your back in minutes. The shoes that are falling apart but still keep some amount of heat in your body? Gone. Sayonara.
Homeless people are crafty.
So, I don’t sleep. When my stomach rumbles, I hush it and continue to distract myself by drawing on my ‘home’. My home, however, wasn’t a home at all. It was a small bridge that used to cover a rushing stream many years ago, but now covered a jungle of dead, overgrown weeds that took over after a drought a few years back.
I lived under the bridge for years. My 12th birthday, my present was an enraged father barging into the house from god-knows-where and beating my older brother senseless for reasons I had no idea of. I was frightened and I ran as far as I could, ending up under my bridge.
My home.
I never went back to the house of my parents. I didn’t want to know if my brother was killed that night and I was afraid of what I would do to my father if I ever saw him again. No, it was better for me to mind my own business and make my own life.
Heh. Some life.
________
Also, odd chapters are Mikey's point of view.
Even chapters are Franks. <3