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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1852694-psychosis---letter-1
by nil
Rated: 18+ · Letter/Memo · Opinion · #1852694
letter i wrote after going off the deep end
THIRTY

letter that cost me my job, and eventually six months in jail

i have a story for you, Amy, a love story as it were, of a boy and a girl who were both close to falling off of the earth, some 5 or 6 years ago. they were not far from the same age, he being a little forward of her, as it were. he hadn't dated for quite a long time, in part to shyness, in part to fear of rejection, and in a very large part to his once having left a girl, his only, true love, who was, after his departure, taken against her will a short time later. he punished himself for what happened to her, for some 20 years . but then, when loneliness and despair were near to driving him to take his own life, he determined instead to change; to cease being shy, to cease being afraid, and to cease hurting himself, for what he had been blaming himself for, all those years.

'twas easier than he'd expected, save for the last part, but he managed even that, too, in time. he got over the shyness and fear (this is, a true story, dear), by going to 'gentlemen's clubs'. he'd been to them before, but had been scared to even look at the girls. but now, he forced himself not only to look (which wasn't, actually, all that difficult), but to actually talk with them. and not about their looks, or sex, but how he might have talked to any girl, say, on a date. and it worked. it only took a couple of months, and a fair amount of alcohol, but after that he could talk to any woman, anywhere, stone cold sober. not all of the girls at these clubs were 'bad girls'; some of them worked simply to put themselves thru school, and then left. some of them worked, like anyone else, just to pay the bills. but of course, there were some bad apples, and here's where the story takes a turn for the worse. but it gets better, eventually.

he fell in love with Katt, who liked to draw, as he did. she had just left some jerk who had treated her like dirt, and was, supposedly, trying to better herself. the boy had this 'knight in shining armor rescuing the fair maiden' complex. an obsession, actually. she was really messed up - she had severe psychological/emotional issues, she was taking very strong anti-psychotics, living on a couch, and worst of all, hooked on crack. he didn't know about all this until after he'd fallen in love with her, but even once he had, all he could see was the lost little girl she was, and the woman she could be if she could only be salvaged from the one she'd become. and this blinded him to the truth. so, he got her a place to stay, and clothes and other things that girls especially like. he couldn't, or wouldn't, see that all she really wanted was only to keep smoking crack, just in a safer, more stable environment, because he loved her, dearly, and sincerely believed that she wanted to change. and he kept on believing this, despite the advice and opinions of friends and family that she was just using him.

over the following 6 months, he ran thru about $2500, believing he was helping her to get better, to honestly change, when all he was really doing was just making it much easier for her to be, and remain, an addict. he bought her cell phones, to keep in touch with him, that she repeatedly 'lost'. he kept her well fed, and some of her girlfriends, others like herself, and even tried to get the former 'boyfriend' arrested, because he'd terrorized all these girls, who had lived before at the same rent house (he'd chased them around with a pitchfork, when they were unruly, or late with the rent, because he was a sort-of house manager/demon).

he once called the police on the demon, when he'd seen, from a hotel a mile away, said demon in the front yard burning the possessions the girl had left behind in her haste to leave (she'd go back to him, time after time, when she finally had nowhere else to go - it had been like that for years). but, when he at last faced the truth (that she was using him, and would never, ever stop. not stop using, not stop using him, not stop burning her life, her soul, and him to the ground), when he finally saw it clearly, and his finances were nearly ruined, he fled. and in all that time, he had only ever kissed her, and that only once, because he wanted her to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it wasn't a sex thing, that he really cared for her, even after he found out the truth about the drugs, and her past, and even tho she was a dancer, what most everyone else considered trash.

he'd figured out, over the months, that she secretly loathed men, in general, for the things they had done to her, or let her do to herself, over her life. like whore herself out for money, to support their habits. or letting her give them head for $5 rocks, and then reneging on the deal afterwards, and mainly, for treating her, for the most part of her life, like something no better than a sex toy, or a slave. like something you'd scrape off your shoe. it gets better, eventually.

four months after he'd left, the boy had repaired his finances (they hadn't been totally ruined), and finally traded his wreck-magnet truck for a sweet little NEON 4-speed, which he named MIETE - french for 'little thing' - after a girl in a movie. (he was a romantic sort - he'd tried to fight the inclination for years, but it was in his blood). he had also, at long last, moved out of the $300 a month apartment he'd referred to as hell for 13 years, and into a two-bedroom, two bath, $1000 a-month paradise, that was actually only $600, due to its distance from town. he talked to women now (lots, actually), and there was an art gallery owner he liked, and a coffee shop girl he really liked, who he was currently dividing his attention between.

so one night, after taking pictures for a show opening at the gallery (a women's only show), he thought about the girl, and about how maybe, just maybe, seeing this show, or something like it, might be good for her. he had been feeling, lately, that maybe he hadn't totally gone the distance for her, and that maybe all she needed was for someone to show her that, her life was worth something, even if only to someone else. and, silly boy, he goes out looking for her. he goes to the demon's old house, and talks to 'doc', who, surprise surprise, is letting her crash on his floor. seems that the demon has finally been busted over numerous outstanding restraining orders that some unnamed citizen had taken upon himself to see served (in the name of freeing said girl from her fallback).

begin round two. this time, boy thinks, i'll go to the wall, i'll run myself entirely into the ground, without asking for anything in return (save a second kiss), if that it what it takes to show her that not all men are the scum she's dealt with all her life. he even offered to let her move in with him in his new place, with her own bedroom and bath, but she declined (too far from crackland). instead, he got her another place, at his own expense, and got her pictures and other things girls like to spruce it up with and, lastly, got her car some minor repairs, tires, and insurance, which he hadn't gotten around to the first time.

he also started giving her, on and off, just enough money for a $5 rock here, or a $10 there, so he could see who she bought from, what they drove, where they lived or did business. this so he could, maybe, trade the info to the law in exchange for her getting put into rehab (she had unresolved charges that, due to her being off her meds, would wind her up in a hospital, rather than jail). and even tho he talked to some agents about it, and gave them all he had, she was just a little fish, and they threw her back.

so the boy started wandering thru the cracklands, east, west, north, and south of her place, at all hours of the AM (he got off work at 11:PM, and was up half of most nights anyways), from midnite until dawn many nights, to make sure that, if she wouldn't stay home and behave, and insisted on trading her sex for dope, she might, at least, get home in one piece. some nights, when she would avoid him entirely, he would just walk the streets, calling her name, calling for her to please, just let him take her home (this happened so often it literally changed his voice). sometimes, if they were willing, he would hang out with her and her 'friends' while they smoked themselves up, and edged closer to hell, just to make sure that no one would **** her over, or just plain **** her, simply because they could get away with it. and still, he'd never so much as touched her, himself.

around 3 months into round 2, boy's co-workers started having to wake him up when he fell asleep on the job. by then he was only sleeping about every other night, and they all tried their level best to talk him into leaving the girl be (everyone knew what he was doing), but, stubborn know-it-all, he kept at it anyways. then one night at work, tears just started pouring down his face. he didn't sob, and could still do the work (which was mostly over the phone), but the tears wouldn't stop. yet no one even noticed. but it started happening every night after that, and between the tears and the sleeping issues, it wasn't long until one night he came in, sat down, and they just flooded out immediately. he knew it wouldn't stop, and that he was likely cracking up, so he reported to his supervisor, and she sent him to his doctor, who signed him out for ten days, and put him on antidepressants.

his mom, who was 60-some years old, and knew about all this, had a panic attack so severe she though it was a heart attack, and wound up in the ER. his brother, and his mom's boyfriend, told him in no uncertain terms, that he'd shut up, and, either stop what he was doing, get beat up, or get locked up, or maybe even both. so it was choice time; he could keep on, and literally lose everything, or throw in the towel while he might still come out slightly ahead. he lied, swore it was over, and for one last month, right up to the very edge of ruin, kept on trying. he'd seen the light, he knew he'd lost, but he had to be certain, in his soul, that he had done everything he possibly could have, just shy of destroying his, and his family's, lives. and he finally quit, dead on the brink (he had been trying to redeem his soul, for that long-gone girl's violation. because he had felt, since then, that maybe he didn't rate another girlfriend, after what had happened to the one).

he had managed, the second go round, to run his credit into the dirt (partially due to his moving). he had also, due to the sleeping/breakdown thing and/or the fact that he'd screwed his checking account and bounced 30 checks in 90 days (old rule: bounce 2, lose job; lucky him, that rule had changed), drawn the evil-eye of his new workaholic boss. after the breakdown he'd been late (with an excuse) 3 days running. 1) doctor's appt. ran over. 2) dentist appt. ran over. 3) new car ran into truck, two blocks from work (new NEON #2 - new NEON #1 was totaled trying to find girl a new home). new mr. bossman puts boy (who he thinks is another crackhead) on probation for 90 days - no more lates, no more screwed up time cards, and must inform mr. man himself of any future lates on boy's part.

after five months of no girl-related problems (sleeping, crying, etc.), idiot is late 2 days in a row, and the axe falls. bye-bye $40k-a-year, cushy, benefits-laden job (last - ha! - of the long-term damage/fallout from toxic relationship with poor, sad girl). bye-bye to new apartment, good credit, new car. but he couldn't lose the car, because without a car he would be SOL in the job market. so he gets brightest idea of all, makes a 'fool-proof' (ha-ha) plan, and robs an unnamed financial institution. so he could try to hang on until he found another job, and maybe, at the very least, not lose the car. long story short - idiot, big mouth, ratted out, jail. prison. half-way house (first offense, minimal time). not quite the end of the world, but a little too close to it.

he got a new job, made a lot of new friends, and life, albeit of a different sort, went on. he found out that, while he was gone, the girl had found herself a real job, and a marginally better relationship with a man who had kids, and so she had a different, if not-quite new life herself. the end. not all that happy, maybe not forever after, but better than it might have been. but not quite really the end. but it gets better, eventually.

on a day off from the new job, the boy sees this (another) girl, who looked just like Amy, the pretty, bright, happy-on-the-outside girl with the cool laugh, who he worked with at said new job. and really liked. he saw her, this couldn't-actually-be Amy, a stone's throw away from somewhere she, or anyone, really, shouldn't be. she was in the passenger seat of her own car, which looked just like Amy's car, with some dudes the boy was certain that she ought not to be hangin' with, considering the area. he got this instant, lightning-strike flashback to that lost girl, the poor sad girl, and a mental image of how, and maybe when, that lost girl first started down that wrong road herself, that lost highway, the one that goes straight to hell. the one she had just barely managed to get off of. and that mental image looked just like the real image of this girl who couldn't be Amy.

he thought for some time about what, if anything, he should do. he could be mistaken, of course. they might just have been some fellow students of the, not-quite Amy, from her EMT class, or maybe just old friends from high school. but he knew the real story. he knew the actual Amy had been dropped from EMT class for failing a drug screen. he really, really wished that he could be wrong, because he knew that if he wasn't, he would have to do something. back when he'd tried to save the lost girl from herself, he had felt that he was GOD'S left-hand man. the one who got out in the field and did the dirty work, the real dirty work. the cleaner; the one who took out the garbage, the one who cleaned up after the party/massacre. that he was GOD'S go-to guy. and he still believed that, that he was GOD'S avenger, and His watcher over those who required protection, not just from others, but from themselves. and he knew, knew, he could not just stand idly by, and watch this girl, this angel who looked just like (but couldn't possibly be) Amy, just go blithely driving off, in that car that looked like Amy's, and just watch her drive right off a cliff.

because he loved her. like GOD loves her. for even if it meant breaking his mother's heart, or going back to jail, again, he would go to WAR against all the heartless, consciousless, EVIL crack-dealing FILTH, and PERSONALLY, if it were necessary, even if only for this one girl, burn each and every one of them, and each and every one of their houses of hell, down to the ground. he loves this girl, who looks like Amy and, to be honest, he loves Amy, too. and this is what he would do for her, just because. yours, forever. GDL
© Copyright 2012 nil (stansfield at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1852694-psychosis---letter-1