Relationships menu
Back to relationship preface
I sat at the church in the rain with a woman that walked with me. One block from Wood Street and 20th Street where I lived. She was my girlfriend at the time. Her name is Sara Summerlott and she was important to me but no matter what I did, she couldn't take women flirting with me and I couldn't take her as she was - aggressive love isn't love. It's a last-ditch effort to retain something you cannot have because you feel you do not deserve it. And she didn't deserve me. She deserved someone normal, consistent and dull.
I wanted to bang heroin, maybe snort some. But I didn't want her around when I did it. I never wanted anyone around when I did it. Heroin was my not frequent but very caring friend that knew I would love to die but didn't allow me to. Reliable in ways I couldn't be. But I was reliable in a way heroin couldn't be.
What can I say? it was a weird relationship between the three of us. I mean four. Me, heroin, my ego. And.... who was the other person? Oh yeah. Sara. She was a funny, lovely boney lady. She reminded me of heroin that I could fuck. I wanted to tell her I loved her but I didn't know how to love in a respectable way anymore. But I loved heroin. Enough to not do it anymore after I drove Sara away. I knew what our future would be - the four of us, as she sat next to me on the ground, next to that church, sharing god's tears. Just us. me, Sara and my thoughts of heroin.
She understood.
Being a friend means you put your neck out there so your friend won't be hurt. At least I used to think that way until these people showed me otherwise
I had a friend and him and I were aware of each other when we were younger - teenagers.
Raebecca Grabowski and I went to the Adam's Apple and she's being a bitch. In front of my friend, Adam, who's telling me a story about saving another friend of ours from drowning. My friend was there and other friends like Tom and Derek Wallace. Raebecca was talking about dicks, crack or whatever her bullshit is and I had enough. She was being dismissive to my friends - had her manipulation agenda and I let loose. I called her everything I could so she'd know not to attach me to her crack, crack dealers and other non-sense. She's a heavy drinker at The Winery, in Decatur Illinois, two blocks from where I was guaranteed stalked by black gang-members.
My friend looks at me wide-eyed like I just told the President to fuck himself. Then, after that, I saw him at the Wild Dog Bar and he smart-assed said "I heard you got kicked out of your mom's basement," knowing my mother died many years before. I said "What, are you talking to my sister or some shit?" He smirked and said "Yeah, maybe a little." I placed my feet on the footrest of the barstool, leaned into his face and said "Did you kiss her in the fucking mouth too?!" He didn't like that. I went to prison because I went to my house to get a gun because he was in Carle hospital in Champaign for getting stabbed in the back at the Adam's Apple bar as well as Fred Born getting his teeth knocked out. The next time I saw my friend was at the Wild Dog bar when I was forced to live at Freddy Born's. He kept going on about being in the club for 25 years - you know, the same club that did absolutely nothing in revenge for his stabbing. Tough asses. My friend and I never spoke again even though we used to speak on a weekly basis.
Up next
Introduction