Emily

My name is Emily.  I’ve never been able to relate to my mother.  My mother grew up in Oklahoma City as a ¼ Cherokee girl in a poor neighborhood and blames all her problems on her early home environment and her difficult deficient education.  Although I sometimes don’t believe what she says about her past, I can relate to allot or her stories.  I live in Dallas, Texas.  I come from a poor background and since my birth mom hasn’t made much progress in pulling us up in life.  Even though I don’t agree with much of what my mother does, I know she does it out of a good place in her heart.  That gives me some piece of mind when I can’t sleep some nights when she has one of her boyfriends over and they make too much noise in the room next to mine for me to get any sleep.  We live off of welfare in a small two room apartment that has a dilapidated little kitchen and a TV room.  Mom and I don’t like being together much, but seeing as I don’t have many friends except Jammy we end up spending more time together than we want to. 

 

Mom’s friends consist of people whom she meets anywhere she happens to go and glob onto.  What I call leaching she calls socializing.  Not that my social skills are anything to brag about.  My first boyfriend only wanted me for sex and after I gave it up to him he left me and bragged about it to his friends.  Since I have a hard time retaining friends for very long at school no-one was willing to stick up for me, so me as the conquest was a popular school story for a year that successfully killed what little popularity I did have.  It seems the girls at school hate me for my looks, and the boys when they are interested in me, only want one thing.  The interest of the teachers in me is a joke, I mean I wouldn’t care much about me either, considering that during a good quarter I make a C.  Which brings up my anxiety that I’m almost sure I’ll fail the 10^th grade.  This and my relationship with my mother are the reasons why I have been experimenting with more drugs lately.  When I was in 6^th grade I had my first cigarette.  No-one warned me that it was lassed with Marianna.  After that I assumed it wouldn’t hurt me to smoke pot.  So in 8^th grade I started smoking weed heavily.  Mom never even noticed.  My usage of pot is constant when I can get my hands on it either from my work money or otherwise.  I tried dealing for a while, but that was a bad idea.  Mostly now I get my stuff from Jammy.  We do allot of X together to get us in the mood and make the experience even better.  Jammy is the first guy I have ever loved.  He gets me any kinds of drugs he can whenever I want them, and sometimes surprises me.  I met him when I was trying to deal.  He tipped me off that it was a bad idea, so I just get my stuff from him now.  He’s the nicest anyone’s ever been to me, and I hope that one day he might purpose to me, but for now I just hope that he would use less coke, it scares me.  You hear really bad shit about people who use coke and heroine.   He’s been around for a while in the biz though, so I think he’ll be cool. 

 

I’ve figured out about two things in life: 1. It sucks, so get used to it.  2. You have to look out for yourself.  I used to think that Mom believed something like that, but I haven’t been sure in a long time.  When I started spending less time at the house our communication all but disappeared.  Since then she’s acted so weird it has scared me.  And the guys that she brings around now are either weird or scary, it used to be that I just didn’t like them because they were guys.  My mom got knocked up with me when she was 19 by my Dad whose name she doesn’t even remember some days; and she’s been bitching to me about how much she hates how my existence affects hers ever since.  I take it because, hey, who else is going to deal with my ass?  She does put stuff in the freezer for me to microwave most the time, and she gives me a place to crash.  And on top of that if I bitch too much she’ll kick me out, she’s come dangerously close on several occasions.  And like who is going to take my sorry ass in?  Jammy?  Get real, he can barely find a safe place to stay on his own most the time.  So I’m screwed when in comes to that, and the way things are looking I won’t be leaving anytime soon anyway.  So I keep my mouth shut about what mom has to say about me, even though some of it is so mean it really hurts for weeks, when she’s drunk.  Like I said, I really have no choice.  But I’ve been thinking about something for a long time now that I think may solve the problem between mom and I not understanding each other.

 

I figure that the big split that separates mom and I is that I have no big event in my life in order for me to act tragic over.  And the best event I think I can possibly pick is to get pregnant myself and have a kid.  I mean, what can it hurt – if mom has another kid in the house we’ll just get a bigger unemployment check, right?  So I thought about it for a while and it seems to work; so one night I just told Jammy to stop wearing his condoms, and he was more than happy;  Although I still made him wear them when I was going down on him.  So I got pregnant a little while back; I’m not sure when exactly and I’m starting to show.  Sometimes I think I feel the baby move and that inspires me and gives me great hope for the future in life.  But there is still a problem with mom.  She doesn’t have a clue that I’m pregnant, I don’t think.  So right now I’m on my way home to break the news to her; which I decided I would do without Jammy’s approval about an hour ago.  We had a fight about it and I’m really pissed off – so this is how I figure I can get him back some.  I hate the stairs I have to climb in this place, they’re really gross.  That’s weird, the doors unlocked.  “Mom!”  I yell into the apartment.  I walk in – everything looks about normal.  Should I go into her room?  The door’s halfway open, weird it’s usually shut and I’m not allowed in.  Well, I’ll risk it…”Mom!”.  Hmm, still no answer, I’m going in….

 

                                                                                                                OH MY GOD!  MOM!!!

Oh Fuck, this isn’t good, she looks totally gone, oh shit, oh shit, of god please no….I had no clue that mom was on heroine.  OH GOD, PLEASE NOT NOW, NOT TODAY!!!!!!!!!!!