Tonight I was reflecting–if you can call it that–on my past and the people with whom I was raised. It’s hard sometimes to think back to the things that I’ve been through or dealt with because it feels like a story. When I have a flashback that throws me back to an unpleasant event, it feels real…but when I just think about it, it sometimes feels like I’m watching a movie of someone elses life. The little girl that I see seems like a stranger and the people inflicting the pain and dysfunction seem like actors. It’s not a good movie, but it feels so unreal that it doesn’t really matter. Sometimes this is good for me because it allows me to step back out of my own pain and hurt to see the emotions and the happenings from a “different” perspective. As I was reflecting tonight on some of the happenings, my brain raced back to a time when I was the only child living with my mom. It was a very scary time for me because it was one of my mom and Unakite’s heaviest using periods. There were many, many sleepless nights sat comforting my mom or hiding from her and Unakite’s massive outbursts. Some days on my way home from school my mom would meet me half way and tell me that we couldn’t go back home and that we needed to run away, others she was dragging me home because she and Unakite needed more than each other for “company”. One day in particular they were both *coming down so were both complete lunatics. I was on my way home from school and my mom met me and told me that she just wanted to spend some time with me. As soon as we walked into the door, Unakite attacked us. He was raging about my mom leaving their “supplies” in the bathroom where anyone could find them, especially the cops. We quickly hid behind the couch as Unakite walked outside and came back in with an ax. After swinging it at my mom and threatening to kill her, he slammed the ax into the tv and walked outside. After a short period my mom followed him, and I followed her. We lived near a railroad track and that is where Unakite chose his revenge. My mom started freaking out and kept telling me to do something, only I had no idea what to do. Because a train was coming I had to act quickly and started to beg Unakite, who at this point was sitting in the middle of the track, to come off the tracks, away from the train, and come home. As the train got closer I started screaming and crying for him to get off the tracks because I loved him and didn’t want to lose him, even though it wasn’t true, I just didn’t want to lose my mom and didn’t know what else to do. We all went home together that night. Looking back from an outsiders view I see a lot of hollowness, there is no life in the entire “scene”. The truth is, everything was empty. My whole life was empty. If you look into my mom’s eyes there is a stiffness that makes you shudder. There is a hollowness that allows you to reach into the depths of her soul, which lies empty. Her outer appearance, affected by the drugs, also appears to be lifeless. She is like a walking shell. Same with Unakite. That’s what drugs do to you. That’s what complete misery looks like. The truth is, crack-heads are just empty and their emptiness starts to seep into the ones they love and who are closest to them. They become so empty that they become incapable. The only people who matter to them is their self. Their life is no longer meant to be lived but meant to be shut out. They become angry and mean. They become an empty shell, searching for something they will never find. They hold an emptiness that is so deep it’s almost scary. Even though there was arguing, anger, crying, laughing, joking, smiling, ect., there was no true emotion behind it. The emotions were mimicked from others around, implemented in proper places and at the proper times. It wasn’t natural and it had no meaning. Life was empty, my mom and Unakite were empty–even hollow–and lifeless. Looking at myself, I too appeared empty, but it was a different kind of emptiness. The emptiness that I held was a lack of understanding and power. Because I saw their emptiness I allowed it to seep into me and cause me to be empty. The difference is, I didn’t do drugs and my emptiness wasn’t hollow. There was a seed in me that told me to keep going because somewhere out there, there was a world waiting for me. I am no longer filled with complete emptiness but there is still an emptiness that I hold, an emptiness that I am not quite sure how to fill. It’s something that I try to cover with material things or clingy attachment, but even that doesn’t satisfy it. It’s an emptiness that creeps its way into my achievements and goals in an attempt to make them lifeless and impossible. The emptiness creeps in like a drug and tries to engulf me into its hollow shell. That little seed speaks up, though, and reminds me that somewhere out there, there is a world waiting for me.

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One thought on “Crack Head Hollowness

  1. Hoping so much you can keep that little seed in the front of your mind to encourage you through the dark moments. The strength within you shows through in your writing…..keep fighting. You inspire me to keep on fighting for my girl to heal. Jennifer

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