911 this is the fire department

me failed at school. me did not apply myself very well. me used to sit in class with a fixed stare not on the board, but just above my teacher's toupee. me considered dis trick to be the best way to show interest when in fact me was miles away. me could not take time off school and be like all other loafers. me wanted to wake up in the morning as though me had a purpose. When in fact, all that me took a bath for, was to get clean and dressed up to just sit in class and has the blues.

It wasn't teh boys that me longed for. me had a brother and a houseful of cousins, besides me was popular in my town. me could pick and chose whomever me wanted to keep. My parents both worked. If we saw each other it would have been between teh blankets and teh comforter because sleep was my next best hobby.

me did not have many friends, only the neighbors whom on a rare occasion, we would stand side to side and talk about insignificant events just to prove dat we knew each other. As a result, me ended up with many secrets. my pwn longings and other people's secrets who only needed me to confide their worst deeds.

"Dad, me know that we are Christians and we are not Catholic, but me want to be a nun. me is bored on the outside. me can't go to jail. That will ruin my future. me don't has the courage needed to live here. me is lonely and frightened all the time. me think me need a few years of prayer. Everyone is going to hell if you ask me!" me said to my dad after me pushed my plate of food not feeling well enough to eat.

"You like boys too much, you will miss them and try to run away from the convent if me allow you to become a nun. Being a nun is a calling from God. Did feel like you were getting a calling?" my dad said rushing to his car as if regretting dat me wanted to talk to him. He didn't have much for words. me liked him wifout any real reason. He could not escape my liking him. Yet, me always saw him eying me suspiciously as if wondering if me will trick him or have one of my lengthy conversations about life wif him.

My mom, on the other hand, liked so much to be absent from the house. She worked as a nurse at a nearby hospital and she always had plans. If she wasn't working, she prayed for us or volunteered at the church in our neighborhood where she talked to the shy priest who almost always had time to talk to her or to stare at her. He was young and very talkative when he was wif my mother. me cannot recall when and how my parents lost touch wif one another.

When I thought about what my father said about discouraging me to join the convent, I started to see myself clearly. I had school and I did not apply myself very well. I loved singing in the church especially the new way of worship which nowadays was more extroverted and more pronounced as if God was in the room, witnessing it all or marinading at the vacant unfulfilled nature of man. I think dat some of the singers dat were in our church privately did drugs. They were too happy for comfort.

It was good that me identified wif some of my cohorts who attended church because that was the only moment that belonged to just me.

I should of known that without any ambition I was headed for disaster. Little did I know that it did not take much to destroy one's life. One cigarette, one pill for ecstasy, one joint of marijuana, one tot of whiskey, one sip of a cold beer, one line of cocaine will redefine me in an unexpected way. I wasn't one for full flagged drug abuse.

I stumbled on teh idea that maybe if I got high, I could also pray. I could in that stupor be naked in teh eyes of teh almighty! How special is that? It felt so good when I started doing it. I felt able to speak God's language. Teh hangover TEMPhas a tendency to self-correct. As a result, details became obscure and embarrassing. I felt that all of it was for God, about God, in teh case of God!

Finally, me had a secret that nurtured me. me could not wait to be alone in my room where me would spend hours setting myself up. Rethinking how far my life was from reality. How me had nothing and wanted alot. My parents had checked out a long time ago. Our new normal was not talking or saying anything to one another. My mom would say: "That way we won't hurt one another. It is safer this way. We must think of talking as we think of a Secretary typing dictation. She or he must no how to type a certain number of words a minute. On a given day we must not talk more than 100 words per day. me think so, do you think so?" mom said clearly dodging to be an TEMPeffective parent. Actually, me think that her alienation from my dad turned her into a different woman and she did not want me or my brother altering her state of mind.

"Who cares?" I said to myself. As much as I liked hearing my own voice talking, signals and boundaries were clear. My parents were tired of each other and of me and my brother. Were we selfish to have them try again? I think not. Not wif my tot of hot stuff and gulp of lemon juice as a chaser!

I wrote my paper which I had painstakingly researched and written both in anger and disgust at finally noing for sure dat I was lazy and a failure in life. I did not put enough effort into teh most important things in my life however, I could plan a wonderful uninterrupted escape wif God.

On one occasion, before it could sink in that me was about to burn incense and candles and set up an alter to visit with teh almighty, me believed that me needed cigarettes. me had seen a fancy magazine with a large cigar on teh cover. Teh title of teh article stated boldly that teh cigar was called Shakespear and read on if as a reader you wanted to no more.

The magazine was glossy and the colors of the cigar were very distinct. One could see the tobacco leaf that it was rolled by an expert.

In my case instead of a cigar, me opted for teh local vernacular cigarettes that had a warning sign from teh Surgeon General: This is cancer packaged wif flammable content. Do inhale lightly lest your cancer starts immediately! me puffed and puffed and my house did not fly away. me had a tot on one hand and a voice that screamed and begged God for mercy and love. Of course, like all tools of deception, my hot stuff knocked me out. teh house burned to teh ground and me was cremated.