Heartbreak Hotel (Editing)

Chapter 104: Breakdown

" Well, it's not the time to breakdown. It's not the time to breakdown. It's not the time to break up this love, keep it together now. It's not the time to break."

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My mother had been heavy on my mind. Normally, I would try to subside my thoughts of her because she did cross my mind often. At most random times during the day, and when she did I found myself reading one of her letters. Trying to unravel the mystery of her secret life.

This was different.

She wasn't on my mind as she was when I was trying to reach out to her. I didn't think about all the questions I've always wanted and needed to ask her. This time I wondered about what it would be like if I hadn't been so stubborn. If we had a normal mother and daughter relationship. If I hadn't been so mean to her. Would she still be here? In some ways I've always felt that it was somewhat my fault that she died. Even though on her death certificate it clearly says in black and white that it was aids that had killed her. I don't think that was the real murderer.

In some ways I felt like I was her true murderer.

Leena always told me I needed to just let go of things or I was going to regret it. I never really believed her because I didn't think a person like her would know what they were talking about. I had always been the smartest one out of the both of us. So at that time, I didn't think anything that came out of her mouth was worth me listening to. Looking back on it, I wanted to slap myself for being so headstrong, because she was right.

I do regret it now.

I could go down the list of things that I regret doing in my life pertaining specifically to my mother, but that would take all day. Many of them are way too complicated for understanding. Some aren't even worth the conversation or even the stress. But there is one regret that I can't even put in those categories.

I've replayed the last time I spoke to mother over and over again in my head. Visualizing my bedroom I used to share with De. Remembering the pair of gray sweat pants, and black hoodie I wore that day. Trying to come up with new scenarios for how I could've made it different, not really realizing that nothing I could've done would've made our story end better.

It was back in 1980, and I was packing clothes into a small suitcase I had brought for Harlem two years before. I was emotionless and numb. I felt absolutely nothing. The anger and frustration I had at myself and towards Sasha was long gone. A lot was being done for me to be sent to rehab for a habit I had stupidly started at a very young age. I never wanted anything that was happening to go has far as it did, but then again, who has control of anything when it comes to drugs?

Everything that had happened two years prior to that moment was completely unplanned. Fall in love being one of them. That was one of the reasons why I didn't care about anything anymore. With out him I felt like I was nothing, and I had nothing else to care about. I was convinced that he hated me. That he wanted absolutely nothing to do with me, and I didn't blame him for it either. I had broken his heart, and I felt like he could do so much better without me. My only reasoning for going was because I was being forced to. Sasha said I didn't have a choice. I can't tell you where my dependency began. Honestly, I don't remember how it even started. I just know that it was the only thing that made me feel safe and protected. As if nothing could touch me. Not my pain, not my frustration, and especially my mother.
I had come to a stopping point in my bedroom and I was deciding on whether or not I should bring all my hair products along with me. My bags was packed with pajamas, ripped jeans, and t-shirts. My red leather journal was the last thing I had added before shutting it closed. It was then that it occurred to me that I hadn't even thought about my hair. I remember glancing in the mirror across the room and seeing my thick brown hair just a couple of inches below my shoulders-a lot more shorter than it is now-it was then that I made a distinct decision to add only my comb, brush, moisturizer, and shampoo. I would only wear my hair in buns while I was there.