To whom it may concern

To whom it may concern,

 

 

In the Winter of 1983, at the tender age of six, I lost both of my parents in a car wreck. A drunk driver, coming from, or going to, a party, crossed the center line and hit them

head on.

 

They died instantly. Or at least, that’s what everyone told me at the time. I really don’t know if that was the truth or if they just said that to make me feel better. If the former is true, then I am glad for my parents sake, because I wouldn’t have wanted them to have felt the pain of death in their last moments. If the latter is true, then I pity those that lied. Pity, because it was not only me who they were trying to fool, but themselves as well.

 

Luckily for me, I was not with them. I was home, warm in my bed. Cheating death. Though some days I think maybe I wasn’t so lucky. Because some days I feel like I somehow cheated the Reaper out of three deaths instead of the two that he received (the driver of the other car walked away without a scratch). Sometimes, when I think of dodging the death I feel I should have had, I feel guilty. And sometimes I think maybe still being alive is Death’s way of getting even. And I think maybe I deserve it. Odd as that may sound to other people.

 

I can remember being told the news of my parents deaths, though at such a young age I didn’t really understand what this meant or what had happened. I knew it was a bad thing though, because everyone was crying. So I did the one thing I could think of. I cried. Because that seemed to be the right thing to do. The only thing. I just didn’t understand.

 

Even now, all these years later, I don’t fully comprehend the situation.

 

I obviously get the What end of it. Growing up without a mother and a father is not a thing that goes unnoticed by anyone, especially the one that was left behind. What I don’t get though, is the Why.

 

Why? Why? WHY!?

 

Why did this have to happen? Why both of my parents? What did they do to deserve their fate? What did I do to deserve being left alone? I still have questions. A lot of them. And I hope that one day I will find my answers.

 

Funny, after all that I’ve been through, I still believe that such a thing as hope exists. I guess that’s one thing I’ll never understand.

 

But as is always the case when losing a loved one, people will tell you that they are in a better place. That they are with God now. That everything that He does is done for a reason. They will tell you that He has a plan for everyone and that it was just their time to go. People will tell you lots of things. Anything. As long as they think it’ll make you feel even a little bit better. And of course, make themselves feel better in the process by showing how much they care and understand. But all they really accomplish is making you want to stand up and shout F**k You! as loud a you can. Because in reality, they don’t understand. How could they? They can just forget about it in time. They can just chock it up to another tragedy that happened to someone they knew. But it wasn’t them, so they can forget. But not for me. I don’t have that choice. I have to live with it. For the rest of my life. So F**k You! Moron.

 

After that, I guess you could say my life started its gradual downward spiral.

 

Okay. Now, during the course of my life I’ve lived with a number of different foster parents. I never stayed in the same place for too long ‘cause everybody always said I had some kind of “attitude problem”.

 

Go figure.

 

Anyway, one of the first homes I lived in was the residence of a lovely young couple by the name of Ted and Judy Graves.

 

They lived in small town not far from Charlotte. The mountain-esque town of Asheville, North Carolina, where wildlife abounds and people slowly die a silent death of boredom and painfully dull monotony. Unless, of course, your one of those outdoor enthusiast types that enjoys hiking and bicycling and that sort of thing, and in that case, it’s a great place to live.

 

It wasn’t really my cup of tea, but for some reason I’ll never fully understand, Ted and Judy loved it there.

 

She was a stay at home wife and he was a lawyer. I’m not real sure what kinds of cases he worked on because nothing ever happened in that stupid little town that needed to be handled by lawyers, but, as they say, to each his own.

 

Neither they or the town have any bearing on how my life tuned out, I just needed to tell you about them so you’d know where I was the first time I tried pot.

 

It was just a few months before my eleventh birthday. I saw some kids on my way home from school smoking it, and I was curious. I had seen and heard it talked about on TV before, so I knew what it was. In a way. All I really knew about it was what I had learned from those after school special shows and anti-drug PSA’s; that it would ruin my life and that it was some kind of a gateway drug,. But the fact that I didn’t really know what they were talking about only made me even more curious as to what the big deal was. So when they offered it to me, I took it.

 

At first I just stood there holding it between my fingers. I mean, what if they were right? What if this really would ruin my life? Suddenly, my curiosity didn’t seem so important to me anymore, and I started to hand it back and decline their offer. But just as I was about to, a little voice in the back of my head seemed to say, Go ahead, what can it hurt to try? It’s just one little joint. It’ll be fine.

 

So I took a puff…

 

And that was the end of that. Not long after that I left Ted and Judy Graves. It had nothing to do with drug use or anything, I guess they just grew tired of my charming personality.

 

The next six plus years are sort of a jumbled up haze of sex and drugs and fights and one place after another. I never stayed anywhere for too long and no one individual event is worth telling, so I won’t bother with any of the details.

 

Instead, I’m going to fast forward to the present. I don’t really feel like rehashing the rest of my s**t life anymore. I think I’ve wrote enough for you (whoever you are) to understand the reason why I have to do this. I have no one left to miss or to miss me, so I’m not gonna end this with the same old ‘I’m sorry’ crap most people go out on. This is all you get...

Reviews

[brenda]

have you seen the house of glass? its a movie i kind of related to it of what you wrote its creepy though not your story the movie it was well written but to e honest at first i got hooked then i got lost i heard this critic from a reviewer before let the reader breahe through your words i dont know im just trying to help you and when you say that you prefer to say f**k you to people yeah me too tat is why when someone dies i just like let them cry on my shoulder and thats it but inside i know it wont work thths how i felt when my grandma died and people told me that too i just wanted to walk away but anyways nicew wit e!:)