Dear Nobody (4 page)

Dear Nobody,

I just woke up a little while ago. I'm calling my new friend, Adrienne, to go swimming again today. She's okay, I guess, but I'm really hoping Jonathan will be there. People keep saying that Mickey really likes me, but I don't think he's all that hot (they do, I don't). And besides, he's a player—AND he doesn't have a car.

Dear Nobody,

Last night my mom said Mickey called, but I still don't want to go out with him—what if someone better comes along and they hear that I've got a boyfriend? I'm just really hoping for someone older—with a car. I don't know; he's fun to talk to, though. But I guess mostly I don't want to lose Mickey's friendship, especially since I'm kind of short on those. I told him to meet me at the rope swing tomorrow. He said okay. I hope he brings some people with him. I like being there when there's lots of people; the more the merrier.

I LOVE the water. I love to be around all of those negative ions. I can derive power from its strength—it's like a huge hug. When I am swallowed by its still grace, I feel like a human in the most original, natural way. I don't feel like I am on this earth—I feel like I am actually a
part
of this earth. I swim and move, absorbing power from its ever-changing depths, and I think about all of the creatures, amoebas, insects and bacteria that inhabit this underwater world.

Today the water was clearer than the sky. The further I swam out, the less I could see below me. I could see nothing beyond the surface.

In its deepest, most condensed form, nothing can be seen.

Dear Nobody,

Today, that guy, Zack (that I sorta had a crush on) got landed on by a girl when she jumped off the rope swing. He'll have some bruised ribs. Said it hurt a lot. I felt bad for him, but I don't think I have a crush on him anymore. He's a nice guy, but his personality doesn't sparkle anymore.

Oh, and I saw that guy, Jonathan, that I smoked dust with (long hair, white truck). He's okay, but he doesn't talk to me much. I still wouldn't mind him for a boyfriend, though—but he doesn't seem interested in me—especially in
that
way. I mean, I think I saw him looking at me today, but I feel stupid when I'm near him. Like he doesn't approve of me or something. Maybe he's how I used to be—quiet but friendly, and people confuse him for being a snob? Oh, one other thing is that I always get him fucked-up, and he hasn't gotten me fucked-up once.

I'm not fucking anyone up anymore. Everyone here OWES me.

Dear Nobody,

Oh, did I happen to mention that Jonathon likes Andrew Lloyd Webber, and that he love JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR?

We listened to it in his truck today.

You know, I'm beginning to believe that there's a good chance Jonathan could be a homosexual…

Dear Nobody,

Even though my mom promised this wouldn't happen—Joe is back living with us. I can't stand the mockery of a woman who I am told is my “mother.” Today she told me that she wanted to be with Joe and that if I didn't like it—I should find another place to live. ANOTHER PLACE TO LIVE? I hate her for this. Hate is not a strong enough a word. Over her daughter, she chose a man—a man who beats her in front of her own children, who calls her a whore and a slut. I'm not sure which one of them is sicker? Is it her for taking him back again and again? Or Joe for the way he continues to abuse us?

How am I supposed to deal with this?

I am only human; I am not a force of nature, I am not an angel.

She says she's going to marry him. I scorn her. She doesn't care about me at all. I knew that the time mom and I spent together was too good to be true; it didn't match my life. A mother that loves me? Has time for me? Cares about me? ME? A MOTHER? LOVE?

I am amazed at how much energy she has for him. How much love she gives him. After all she gives him, there's none left for me. They gang up on me. They shame me for every one of their fights. They blame me for everything.

Tomorrow, mom and I are supposed to go to the movies together, but I bet we won't. Joe probably won't allow it.

Dear Nobody,

Today was a good day. Started out shakily, but couldn't have ended better. Okay, first the cops came to our house because mom, Joe and I all got into a fight. It was like an episode of the Jerry Springer Show. Well, after the cops left, I went swimming. A lot of people were at the rope swing. Jonathan was there, but I don't have a crush on him anymore—and this new guy I kinda like, Ryan, wasn't there.

Well, it was a beautiful, sunny day. I have my period, and started to get a headache and tummy ache—and I turned to go home, but then changed my mind. I wanted to go home because I was pissed that Ryan wasn't there, but then I felt better and turned back. And then after a little while, Ryan showed up! I was so happy—
it was weird, like it made my whole day!
So, I realized today that I've got a HUGE crush on him. Everyone said they saw Ryan looking at me, when I didn't know it. He drives—and he is intelligent—
all I need right there!

So I went ahead and told Adrienne and Mickey that I really like him. It is yet to be determined whether or not that was a good move. Probably. Besides, I DO like him! Well, anyway, Ryan can never stay long, so he left pretty early. After he left, we all walked to the Uni-mart and met up with a van full of Adrienne and Mickey's friends. We went to Perkiomenville to this really cool place. It was a bridge with railroad tracks, and if you jumped off the bridge like forty feet, you land in the river. It was awesome.

I got to the ledge but never jumped. I was scared I wouldn't jump out far enough—and hit myself on the rocks. So Adrienne and I waded in. It was SO warm. Unbelievably warm, like a bathtub—literally. I'll never forget how warm it was. The water was even warmer than the air. Then we all went skinny-dipping. It was so fun. Another one of those really excellent days—I've had three so far. I wish summer would never end.

Dear Nobody,

I am starting to be pretty good friends with this one girl, Traci. We've gotten drunk together and she knows all the shit about me, but doesn't care. Me and her have fun. I can be silly with her and just be really weird and she is right back. It's cool. I have a feeling Traci is as loyal a friend as I am. I just wish she lived closer so we could hang out more.

Dear Nobody,

Last night I tried this new drug called, “Special K.” It's an animal tranquilizer.

The color of the pills really appealed to me—a bright, electric pink. They reminded me of the birthday parties from when I was little. I always insisted on having bright electric pink balloons. I took all of the eight pills that this guy gave me and washed them down with a 40 ounce of malt liquor. The feeling was NOT what I expected. I didn't feel drugged at all—even though I did feel different. I felt half asleep, half awake.

Whenever I stood up, my knees would go weak and my stomach got that feeling it gets when an elevator suddenly drops.

After a while I started to feel “the stupors.” It was harder to remember what my reverie had even been about. I finally started to feel awake and I tried to go to sleep. But I think it was only my mind that felt awake and content—floating like a fallen leaf into one thought, then onto another one—listlessly. My body felt paralyzed—like it does when you wake too suddenly from a dream and you can't move your arm for a few seconds.

After every revelation the room started spinning around with increased velocity. I just lay in bed watching everything spin, unable to concentrate on any single thought. Then I began to see things.

I was staring into the blank television screen and saw a girl speaking sign language so fast it would have been near impossible for anyone to understand. I turned my head away from the hallucination and saw what looked like the silhouette of a tall, lean man opening and closing a door—I looked as closely as I could from where I lay, and tried to tell him to leave.

“Leave me alone,” I said. “Please leave me alone.”

I was getting scared, seeing a man in my house that I didn't know. At one point I even tried to scream—but I felt so weak that I was having trouble breathing. Every time I caught my breath, I would release it with a sigh. The image of the man finally disappeared, but I kept seeing other things from the corner of my eye. Cats and mice would run across the room. If I stared at an object long enough—the object would begin to smoke. The carpet—WHOOSH, up in flames. My pillow. My dresser. There was fire everywhere. At one point, I thought I saw a snake sliding underneath the carpet. Then everything started to blur together into one big landslide of fuzz.

I kept getting up and leaving the room and then forgetting why I got up in the first place. Then
really creepy shit
started happening. From the far-off distance I could hear the faint sound of unfamiliar voices—then the room began to spin again and I rolled my head over to the opposite side of the bed facing the curtains. In the curtains I saw a face form under the cloth; then I saw an outline of a body emerge in the fabric. It seemed to be fighting to get through the curtain. In less than a minute that image faded away and the room went back to spinning.

I spent the next two hours trying to will myself to sleep. I tried counting sheep; I tried counting back from one hundred, spelling out the numbers in my head like they were mathematical figures on a chalkboard. Nothing worked. My thoughts kept fighting with each other. It was like good and evil having a battle.

“Stay up!”

“Go to sleep!”

“Don't listen to HER, don't be a baby, you have to stay up—think of all the incredible ideas and thoughts you are having, do you really want to miss them?

“If you don't go to sleep you will die.”

I just laid there letting my two parts fight it out with each other. The sun was coming up when I finally passed out.

Dear Nobody,

I've been hanging out with Traci a lot—she's so great. We do heroin together and get into a lot of trouble—but it's FUN trouble. Kinda. Yeah, I've been doing more drugs lately—but only in moderation.

Dear Nobody,

So I was really drunk and high the other day walking around with Traci. She wasn't as drunk as I was (no one ever is) and I was
very drunk
. And high. VERY HIGH.

We saw these guys at a gas station and asked if they'd give us a ride further downtown (so we could buy some pot). We rode around for a while. One was very hot. Turns out they went to Traci's school. Anyway, they dropped us off by my house because I wanted (needed) that big bottle of brandy I had hiding in my closet.

I ran into the house and much to my surprise and dismay, my mom was already home from work. As soon as she saw me, she knew I was drunk. She tried to block me (I can't remember this; it's what she told me later) but I pushed past her and ran out of the house. After I left, mom called my probation officer and told him that I was drunk again and had just left the house without permission.

Meanwhile, Traci and I were walking (crawling) along Market Street in broad daylight. There was a two-lane highway on the side and we tried to cross it—Traci got across it fine, but I kept falling over. Cars were beeping their horns and swerving all around me. A cop in a parking lot across the street called out to me and asked me if I was okay and if I could stand up.

I looked around trying to locate the cop car, but I couldn't really focus. Everything was spinning. “Oh shit,” was all I could think. I'd been puking—and it was all over my face. Then I fell again, in the middle of the street. A car stopped and people began gathering all around me. I remember how brightly the sun was shining in my eyes. The cop dumped the forty-ounce of beer I had in my hand and took my book bag from me, before arresting me. They let Traci go (I guess because she could still walk, and looked, well, just about normal).

They took me to the ER from there.

My mother was there waiting for me. I was crying, ranting and raving. I kept asking my mom for a quarter to use the payphone, but she kept saying no. I finally got a few dimes from a college kid with a hurt ankle. I called Adrienne and told her to tell Ryan—that no matter what happened, I loved him.

Then some guy came over and told me to go with him. I got a psychological evaluation when I was the most fucked up—and lied my ass off about everything.

They asked me how many times I have had sex and I said, “Twenty-thousand times.”

They asked if I ever play with my feces.

I said, “Of course. I eat what I can, and save the rest for later—in the refrigerator!”

Then the shrink left me in a room with a two-way mirror in it for surveillance. Someone had left a dinner tray dinner on a desk, and since I hadn't eaten since 9:00 that morning—and at that point it was around 11:00 at night—I ate the fat off the chicken bones and the cold baked potato (AFTER I got the flies away from it). The doctor must have seen me eating because he came in and asked me if I wanted some crackers or something.

I was very out of it after that, but vaguely recall some old guy driving me to the detention center. The song on the radio was the same song I used to hear almost every time after getting out of the hospital.

When I got there I didn't know where I was and I didn't really care. I was getting so tired. When I first walked into the dayroom I walked into a table and fell. Then I had to strip completely naked (jewelry, too) in front of this nice little woman. Then after my shower I had to answer all of these questions about my history & what brought me there. I was falling asleep while the lady asked the questions. A few hours later they finally let me go to bed.

When I woke up the next morning I didn't know where the hell I was. I could barely remember anything from the night before and wondered why I wasn't wearing my own clothes. I looked like complete shit. I thought maybe I was in some mental ward again. Actually I was kind of glad to be someplace away from home—separate from the ordinary world for a while. I had to clean and mop everything, do anything they told me to. After ten days I was court-ordered to rehab. This place is called the CURON Foundation.

I heard Courtney Love went here.