Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Manhattan Dreams Chapter 1

Change is the essence of life. But change is not always willing. It was afternoon in Manhattan when I walked through the roads of the city. My ears blazing with the loud music that spilled through my headphones.
 I exclaimed at the incoming taxi which would drive me home; a place which wasn’t the place I would like to be. But to the ultimate disgust it was something that was inevitable. I was seventeen and I didn’t grow enough funds through the part time job I did at McDonalds to move to another house. It was a place where expecting something to be right was totally wrong. As the taxi cornered near downtown the sick look of the house came into view. The house was quite big to accommodate a dozen of people but small and mean to accommodate my parents and me together. Our relationship was something that was like a magnet with like poles facing each other- the more you try to make them come close the more they rebuff with a magnified force. But stressing it all out I entered the house. The door cranked open. No one had ever thought about oiling it. Everyone in this house was so engrossed in proving me wrong and subduing me that other matters felt undistinguished.
I threw my bag on the red couch that lay in the hall. Striding into the kitchen I opened the fridge and found a chicken burger and some coke. Gulping down the coke I swallowed the vapid burger. You always loose the attraction from the thing which you deal with everyday. So burgers were something occupying the last place on the I-need-to-eat list. But America was a place which seemed to live itself upon it.
The door again cranked open and my foster dad who married my mother in the winter of ’07 entered. The days when I remembered myself with my daddy, I think I relished the best love and care that one could receive from their family. But as I said earlier change is not always wiling and after they got divorced my mother married this jerk named David Seagul. Or in other words Mr. Dork.
‘What is this Jack? How many times do I have to tell ya’ not to throw your stuff on the couch? It is not a place to throw things around.’
His icky mouth just couldn’t stop littering the place with his filthy words that always codded me. His Okie accent was the other thing that pissed me off. With the ultimate disgust and an expressionless face I picked up my bag and walked towards my room putting my headphones on so that my ears wouldn’t face detriment from the blabbering the dork was making. My cell phone and my novels were the only things in the house that could give me the solace a normal teenager would seek. So actually you would find me on my headphones all the time while reading a book- which sounds absurd but that’s how I read a book.
F.Y.I I always carry a book with me whether it be the Donald’s or to school. I am so addicted to the novels that I could hardly imagine myself without them during the free hours.
Why would it have to be this way? I am not that bad to be turned down by god, but by heaven’s sake I had to go through all this. My dork dad and my tuned mom would never allow me to be the person I wanted to become. I had always wished to do something different than what other teens usually do. I wanted to be a standout. It’s not that my peers in schools call me aliens as I live in a world that they believe that only morons could live. It never scathed to find my acquaintances to mock at me when I am around them. I have been dealing with such treatment since I had to part with my father and had to accept the dork. It hardly matters to me when people call me jerk or a geek in front of girls so that they would never really get into me. I don’t know if I looked good or handsome but the boys around me would always try to overshadow me in front of the chicks. The only reason I survived the school was that I could grasp the syllabus quite well and that I was successful in defeating all of the kids in the exams. But that hardly ever made sense. All I wanted to become was famous and a little wealthy so that all the love which is so foreign to me would endear me with open arms.

to be continued....

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