Buying food & sleeping at motels on a servers budget had eaten up my money so with my last $40, I brought a one way bus ticket to New York City. A trip that I’ve made over a dozen times before the age of 16 as punishment & a symbol of dis-ownership over my existence from the Caller. As I was making the confirmation final on my phone, it started to rain. My phone was about to die & I was no where near a charger. I was so distraught that I voluntarily make this trip that my phone got some water into it, furthering the list of things that were going wrong.
Attempting to clear my head & create another plan of action in the midst of this chaos, I decide to take a long walk up Old Harford Rd. I didn’t have a destination only a general direction, North. I was so stressed I considered walking to Pennsylvania. Slightly drenched by the passing rainstorm, I didn’t bother to take cover. Too much in my life was going on that I couldn’t control. So I decided to tough the rain out.
I gained a brief moment of clarity from that walk & later that night I met up with my cousin to get some advice. They knew my current situation & how I felt. At times it seemed that they were enjoying my suffering & knew more about my situation than they let on. A brief bouncing of ideas with them turned into a yelling battle. I was fed up with their shitty advice & fake wanting to help me. Instantly in that moment I realized that they had been feasting off of my misfortune & pain.
I needed someone help me, someone to guide me, someone to rely on, someone to help me make sense of what the hell was going on. They had proven time & time again that they weren't wasn’t that person. This time I them go.
So with my book bag that contained my most cherished items, I made my way to the bus station in White Marsh to catch my midnight bus trip to NYC from Baltimore. The trip it self was soothing because of the familiarity of the trip its self. The circumstances of the trip made this the most painful trip to NYC I’ve ever taken. I arrive in the city around 4 in the morning, electric energy in the air. I bask in it as if I knew the City was expecting me.
My feet make the way to my destination. I take the 1 train from 28th St to 156. My feet are tired, my heart is heavy, my shields are down, I am complexly vulnerable. I walk up 11 flights of steps & ring the distinctly nostalgic doorbell 11F. I reach the place of where the life line from a distant relative was offered. I arrive at my mothers door unannounced at 5 am on my 24th birthday, looking for shelter, love, & a relationship that was seemingly interrupted at 17 years ago. . . . . .