Reflection And A New Start [Feels Warning]

I stopped mid-stride, realizing that I had nary a clue on how to hunt game. The forest was thick and the air was bathed in the smells of pine and soil...and blood. Which is understandable, considering it’s coming from behind me and it’s being carried on the breeze. That means the smell is traveling upwind according to my current placement, which would be north if I’m not mistaken.

“What the fuck am I doing? I almost killed...again.” I thought bitterly. It’s not a bad question, now that I actually have some time to myself to think about it. As a matter of fact, I have some time to think about alot of stuff.

And when I say ‘stuff’, I mean my life so far. It’s how I normally cope with being...me; if that makes any sense to you.

I wasted about five seconds sitting down, taking up my criss-cross-applesauce position once again. The cicadas buzzed their manic tune, waltzing to no rhythm in particular far above me in the canopy. Green leaves showing signs of Fall colors swayed in the forsaken rhythm that once belonged to the cicadas. All in all, it was the perfect place for me to relax and be alone with my thoughts.

“So let’s start from the beginning...”  The voice of Dr.Walker rung through my head as I closed my eyes, envisioning myself in his black-leather La-Z-Boy patient chair.

“This is pointless Doc. You and I both know that these little seminars between us ain’t doing shit to alleviate my anger.” I was still in my alien body, my feet hanging off the recliner even when I had the foot-part out and the chair bent back completely. D.W-which is how I address him- didn’t seem to mind my mouth or my appearance.

Well the appearance part maybe, but he did give me a harsh glare when I belittled his work.

“I remember you saying that after you attempted to run away from home,” He jabbed, “But you keep coming back here. If it’s really as pointless as you say Justin, then why do you keep coming back?”

Is this nigga serious?

“To keep my mom off my back, what else.” I replied with growing irritation. There has been a plethora of times where I envisioned myself on top of D.W with a broken piece of glass protruding from his chest and his glasses jabbed into his brown eyes. I always chuckled at them.

“It’s also so I don’t get locked up. But since you’re the fucking DOCTOR, you should already know that. SHOULD, being the key word here.” D.W let out a sigh of frustration at my response. He knows I’m right, so he’s trying to change the subject to avoid losing a mental battle to his patient.

Whatever. I’ll just trample his failed attempts at-

“Why are you so fucking insufferable?”

Who the FUCK; does this nigga think he’s talking to!?

“The fuck did you say to me?” I sat up quickly, transfixing my ‘mental help’ with a death glare.

“You heard me and I’m NOT going to repeat myself. Every session we’ve had since day one has been nothing but...but...BULLSHIT! You talk in circles: give half-ass answers, swear like a sailor, insult me and your family, but give no clear indication on WHY you do these things! You will NOT waste anymore of my time, especially when there’s a kid in need of these types of services contemplating suicide an-”

“Shut the fuck up.” I interrupted darkly. The pen he had in his left hand dropped to the ground with an audible click. His mouth followed the dropping motion of the pen as he stared at me in disbelief. “You wanna know whyI’m the way I am? Fine...I’ll tell you. But after this...You can fuck off.” I continued just as darkly as I began. This fuckwad wants to know what I’VE been through!? A guy who’s probably never lived in poverty thinks he can judge me?

Let’s see if I don’t crack HIM when this stories over.

“I’ll give you ALL the details. So pick up your twenty dollar pen and put it to those FUCKING papers.” I sat back and wove my fingers together, like an evil mastermind would do.

“My life started sucking dick around ten years ago. My mom was a floozie for love. By the time I had reached sixteen, I had called three different men my dad. Except for my real dad, of course. Mother said he wasn’t shit because he bailed on us when things got tough- cheated on her’s more like it- but wrong is still wrong. She said being a single-mother was rough, and that me and my brother needed positive ‘male’ role models in our lives.” The only sound in the room was my recounting and D.W’s pen scratching his notepad.

“That’s bullshit. What woman with self-esteem enters a relationship with...with...hustlers. Niggas who could flip a dime and come out with a cool hundred. Fuck Dwayne. The scumball had marijuana for pubic hair the stupid cunt rocket! He would come by in the late hours of the night, make sweet...sensational...meaningful love with our mom and then shoot off to parts unknown. I touched a bag of his weed one day and I got slapped with a hot skillet across the face. No permanent damage, but for a SEVEN YEAR OLD, it was fucking TRAUMATIZING!”

“My mom, when I ran to her, told me to apologize...TO HIM!!! I was robbed of sleep for a week, since I couldn't lay my head down because the left side of my face would hurt me too much. I was seven...SEVEN!!! Fuck Dwayne and fuck Mohammed or Muhammed or how-the-FUCK-ever you pronounce that shit!”

“The fucking alcoholic leached off our money for two years, buying Steel Reserves for a dollar at Lestardo’s Spirits down the road. The sunnuva bitch was illegally here, but because of my mother’s ‘love’ for him, she kept that secret. Yeah, everything was sunshine and rainbows until she realized just how much of a fucking mooching African he was. I had school in the morning, and damn me if I didn’t try to hide that I was tired in class. But why was I tired? From their bitching every night, that’s why. And guess who received the asswhoopin’ when I brought a ‘D’ home?”

“And this continued for another year, until she finally told him to pack his shit and go. FINALLY being the key word here. But that’s not where it ends...oh no. Turns out, the African Sleazeball took papers that had some ‘Things’ on them from the recesses of my mom’s room. And by ‘Things’, she meant Illegal activities. Since this is being recorded-and I don't feel like smacking a bitch up when I go home- I’m not going to go into details about these...activities. Even if you don't have evidence to give the police, I don’t trust you enough. Now where was I?”

“Oh yes! Fuck Renny. This manipulative, asinine, druggy of an illegal immigrant from Jamaica almost got me shipped to a fucking foster home. How? By conspiring with drug lords that would send my mom and her friend to Jamaica in order to smuggle back marijuana in their fucking snatches! Hey, but at least her friend took the rap for her when the German Sheps’ sniffed it out. Angela only did it because she knew my mom had both me and my brother to come home to. It’s not like it stopped her from GOING, so why the fuck would Angie care? I WISH they would’ve busted our mom! But the justice system in this world is topsy-turvy.”

“And the final piece of shit deserves the heartiest one I got. Hold on a moment.” I stopped my story and stood up, walking past D.W and to the office door. I opened it forcefully, pulling it sharply and letting it bang on the brown wooden walls within the therapy room. I peeked my head out into the hallway and noticed a plethora of white-coats and scrubs.

Perfect.

“FUCK DERRICK!!! THE BALD-HEADED CROOKED TOOTH BASTARD THAT STILL-TO THIS DAY- LIVES WITH HIS MOM!!! THE SUNNUVA BITCH MADE CONSTANT JABS AT MY SEXUAL PREFERENCE THROUGH HIDDEN PHRASES AND MEANINGS, AND ACTUALLY MADE ME CONTEMPLATE SUICIDE!!!” My voice carried through the bright and expansive white hallway effortlessly as I pulled my head back into the room and walked my way back to the chair.

Once I sat down, I began again. “That’s right...suicide. Mom walked in on me slowly sliding a razor blade into my neck. Almost made it. It’s not easy...trying to kill yourself. And then, the very next day before I woke up at six o’clock in order to catch my bus to school, I packed all my shit and ran away. I just...” I let out a sigh and fought back a sob as I righted the chair by pulling on the lever to the side of me. It folded up so that my feet rested on the ground, locked in a ninety degree angle. “...I just didn’t want to deal with that shit anymore. All this talk about ‘God can help you through your problems and his love is unconditional’, mom keeps spewing at me doesn't help. I’ve tried Christianity, and I’ve tried the teachings and the experiences with ‘The Great I Am.’ But there’s only so much a sixteen year old can take, man.”

I was tearing up and sniffling. DAMN IT!!! I told myself I wasn’t going to cry!!! Suck it up! Be a fucking man about it!!!

“And before you say shit like poverty in Africa and all that bullshit relating to other countries; and how my life seems like a walk in the park compared to the hardships they face over there. Let me just say...How in the catholic FUCK does that relate to ME!? The way I see it? Those kids get off EASY!!! They don’t get to have freedom. Fuck, I’d rather be without my freedom then live in a country where it’s ARTI-FUCKING-FICIAL!!! All this patriotic shit... ‘Merica! Fuck yeah’...that doesn't mean shit and everyone knows it.”

“And guess who’s to blame for me turning into the asshole I am today D.W?” I asked with a manic grin on my face. He looked put-off by my facial expression, but nodded his head in order for me to keep going.

“My fucking family, that’s who. I remember my eighth birthday. There was snow on the ground and I had just got off the bus

from school. My brother did too, but he went down my grandmother’s house in order to help her with the fifty fucking cats she has in her trailer. Anyways, this was during the time when my mom was with the African Sleazeball.” A couple more tears streamed down my face as one of the most depressing memories I have welled up inside my chest, dampening my heart and applying heavy amounts of gravitational pull to my emotional barrier.

“I bursted through the door, happy as ever. I knew that today, out of all the days that I pretended to be happy, I could actually BE HAPPY. I took off my snow boots and ran into the kitchen, blowing through the living room as an energetic ball of youth and joy! On the kitchen table, I noticed the rather small ice cream cake in a box. Chocolate cake with strawberry ice cream and vanilla frosting, if I remember correctly. But there was a yellow sticky-note, and on it was written ‘Dear Justin, Happy Birthday! Mama’s gonna be home late because she’s working overtime, so don’t eat the cake until I come home! Love you!’” Tears flooded my face by this point.

“And that’s what I did. From two o’clock p.m to one o’clock in the morning. The cake had already melted into slop. I lit the candles with a box of matches, my eyes glued to the front door in case I heard the tell-tale sound of a raggedy screen door being opened and a keyhole being fidgeted with. Nothing. I looked back to my...my...” I was a stuttering mess now. Why am I experiencing this so vividly!? IT’S NOT FAIR!!!

“My......cake, and began singing slowly and quietly.

Happy Birthday to me.

Happy Birthday to me.

Happy Birthday Dear Justin...

Happy Birthday to me.”

“And when I went to blow out the candles, there was nothing to blow out because I had been crying the entire time.” My voice was cracking. “So tell me...Have you ever cried yourself to sleep in your own birthday cake? No? Then how in the FUCK, are you helping me!?” I stood up and wiped my snotty nose with my jacket as I glared at him with tears practically washing away my sense of sight.

D.W was wiping his eyes as well, weeping minutely so that I couldn’t hear. New body bitch, I can hear you plain as day.

“So don’t you FUCKING DARE!!!!!! Don’t you DARE tell me I’m insufferable and an asshole!!! ...And don’t you DARE tell me love exists when it DOESN’T!!! Don’t you...don’t you fucking dare. And the next time Mr.Valedictorian of Yale-New Haven Medical Center; who’s a single child and doesn’t have to walk in an elder sibling’s shadow, and whose parents are successful lawyers wants to give me advice on how to live my life...” I sucked up some snot as I kept nodding in confidence. “...He can go fuck himself raw.”

And with that I walked out of his room, feeling my hate rekindled. (Stop Music or Keep Listening.)

I fought back another sniffle as I opened my eyes groggily. I know I had been crying in the real world because a memory like that doesn’t leave a dry eye in anyone, regardless of who or what they may be.

I have no more tears left to shed. All those got cried out when I was eleven and on Earth. No. I’m done being sad and mopey. Down in the dumps and pretending to be happy. That’s not who I am.

And I refuse to see anyone hurt because of me. I will NOT be my mother. I will NOT be my dad. I will NOT be my brother. And I will NOT be Justin.

I WILL be Silas Epista, and I think I know what I want to as my new self.

“First, I’m gonna rescue Sunset Shimmer...my way. And then, when everyone’s back together, I’m gonna break the news to them.” I looked up into the trees and saw a speck of light fly down from above. It was white, glowing at uneven intervals as it descended down.

Down.

Down.

It’s a firefly and it’s perched on my nose. It fills me with warmth as I suddenly realize that it must be dusk if the fireflies are out.

*Growl!*

“And I didn’t get anything to eat either. Fuck me...” I swore at myself as I got up and begrudgingly made my way back to where I came from.