Bealy's Story

Chapter 1: A Far Cry From Life

My mom said that if I was to write a letter to my father, everything would’ve been solved and he will eventually reply. I waited and waited for him, but I was left with no response. I began to ponder for awhile. “What really happen to him?” I found myself inquiring in the darkness of my bedroom one night. “Did he even loved us to stay ?.... Or did he just didn’t care at all?” I remember the last time I spoke to him. I was four years old and we were playing gun. It was one of my favorite games that I would play with him. I had so much fun...... the night felt so elongated.

“Oh B.B.” was the first words that I heard my mother spoke to me. She was so ecstatic to see me, I felt the same. I finally felt the bond of having everyone that I needed in my life, here with me. It felt also like a dream; everything was so perfect. Then it all ended with me leaving with my mother. I was happy. She was happy. But I didn’t realize what going on around me. Not until now, and I still haven’t find the missing puzzle piece to an even bigger labyrinth. I’m like a drop of blood being dipped into the ocean. I’m worn out, diffused to the point of giving up. Almost like the color grey. So dull and boring. That's was what I was becoming. Dull. Boring. Faded. Basically monochromatic, a life with no colour. I’m not a blind person, but I feel like I’m living like one. Some questions in my life were just left unanswered. I hated that.

The last time I mentioned his name, my mother just sat there in her seat and ignore me. That was one of the reason why I wasn’t so persistent with her, because she returned the treatment back ten times harder. So much of trying. After we both left the villa, we stayed in this little cheap motel for a few days. Later on, she managed to pull some money together and we eventually moved to Miami. I guess it was better for me, because I was able to forget about him. But the memories would come back to me - eventually. I grow up as an antisocial person, once I started enrolling in school. I didn’t really talk to anyone like that. Besides, I was in a new country. A new state, new background. I stood out the most in my class. I was so different; and although that was so, I wanted to find some similarities between me and the other kids. I wanted to see what we have in common. All til now, I couldn’t find what I began my quest on. It's a crying shame. I’m such a weird kid.

At age 13, I started to hang with a bunch of cool kids from school. That time I had just started the sixth grade. The month after I started my course there, I was expelled. My friends and I had pulled on this huge prank on the school, and to make a long story short - they didn’t find it “appropriate”. Then the school kicked me out. Surprisingly, I was the only one that was subjected to such actions. But what the hey, I wasn’t going to back down. I guess that was when everything started to go downhill for me. And of course like any other parent would be to their child's first expulsion, my mother was furious. I remember that the day so perfectly. If I had received a test on what happen that day, I would pass with a 100 percent average - effortlessly. It would be pretty redundant to bring up such a sticky situation; and now my mom was stuck with a bigger problem; Finding another school.

Everything went back to normal - but not for long. I lasted about several weeks at this new school. And then the whole cycle started back over again. I swear the longest I ever stayed at one school was about two years. And that was because I met this cute guy that I grew very fond of. He was the reason why I actually stayed for so long. My mom actually thought I changed my “thoughtless actions” for the better but she thought wrong. Like always. His name was Kevin; he was a nice guy. He wasn’t so perverted nor acted like a douche when the time comes like the other assholes in Miami. I like him for his humour; Kevin could always find some way to make me laugh. But not everything is what it seems. I guess I took my relationship with him for granted. I was naive to what was going on; not because I wasn’t looking. I just wasn’t paying attention. If I was to describe what happen, it would most likely relate to a dream. Like the ones that you would have for like ten minutes and poof; it disappears. Sometimes I sit by my bedroom window looking down into the street, and just wonder what I did wrong; for him to do what he did. Twenty minutes later, I can’t find the answer. And then I realize, I didn’t do shit to make things go down the toilet. I guess that will be the last time I will ever put my trust in a guy. No sir, never again. That's how life is for me ever since then.