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Another Monologue

Updated on December 25, 2014

I sit in my room alone on a slow Sunday afternoon, wondering if things would've been different had I not done what I did. 5 years before, the way I acted shortly after my mum's mother died was despicable but I had my own stresses going on , hidden away just like the years of bullying at school my parents and teachers and other peers knew nothing about, it didn't bother me because I am a good person who knows whilst it's happening to me they're leaving others alone.
I was the sort of child and still am the sort of person who can not come forward with their real problems and ask for help.
I'm twenty now, I had a beautiful baby girl who's mother took me away from her. No reason, she hates me now for trying to hold my family together. It took nine long months to become a father and in less than a flash I became less than that.
At school, I got on with my work, never did homework or revised for my exams but I kept my head down and got on with it, I had no friends to mess about with. I left with solid GCSEs, mostly Bs and Cs and an E, F and D in RE Christianity, RE Hinduism (which I did better in) and Health and Social Care. Now I'm quite a whizz in all of those subjects with a broad knowledge but before, I didn't care for these subjects.
I left home at fifteen, mum couldn't cope, slung me out/I chose to leave, we argue as to which even today, I don't know whether to believe myself anymore or not. I live in a hostel now. The same hostel I was kicked out of at 18 for stealing the TV off a "friend's" wall who had been kicked out that day, he gave me his key before they could change the locks. They knew it was me, couldn't prove it. Got away with it. I admit it now, they gave me the benefit of the doubt.
At 15, social services put me in a hotel where in this hotel with long term residents and backpackers (I'd call it a holiday hostel) £30 a night single room which I got it paid for by social services naturally. Not the best hotel in the world by any means, my next door neighbour was a class A drug user in which I started smoking weed with every day after only ever smoking it a couple of times in college before studying A level Psychology, Biology and English Literature of which I was soaring with all three subjects. My heart broke when at that point, I had no choice but to drop out due to living too far away and the stress of everything sent me spiralling down.
Begging in the streets for food was one thing I am not ashamed of at fifteen years old because I refused to ask for help, but for drugs it was another level of low which I never actually reached due to my pride, the only thing to keep me going.
I was nearly 16 when I left, I stayed at Chantelle's for two weeks who's mother got sick of me, I'd just started smoking cigarettes which I now only just quit after realising the invisible financial burden (although still smoking pot). This is all just before the hotel I know it's back and fourth, it's how it's going through my head so bear with me. This is unedited thought right here. There is no plan or structure this is just how it is minus the parts I believe no person are privy to other than me.
I took to the streets for three weeks through winter at sixteen after sofa surfing around my handful of secret friends through school who understood why our friendship couldn't be public for fear they'd be ostracised. I pitched up with a homeless couple and ex-policeman in a tent he lent me in a sealed of park, having sausages and soup from the homeless soup kitchens on Wednesday night by camp stove, these guys weren't rookies and even then I still went to college a few times for a shower at the gym but it was impossible to go unnoticed, the college tried to help but to no prevail, they had a flat in college that was for a disabled exchange student when they have the programme going which they still haven't so I couldn't live there.
During my time in the hotel, I dabbled in drugs, begged (not the sort who sat down having lost the will to live and mutter spare change, I was always clean although not as clean as I could have been, personal hygiene suffered. Just before I was 17 I was put in a hostel with mainly care leavers and tearaway kids where I started smoking weed and partying and stealing beer from shops and running away with crates and stealing Sat Navs from cars, meeting criminals and drug dealers, learning about benefits and how to live on benefits and how to sponge the system and commit crime and steal cars and catalytic converters and one day do a house burglary at the age of eighteen.
I go to jail at this point.
Just before I go to jail I'm living with someone who I used to steal catalytic converters with and after finding a new drug called MCAT, illegal at that point as it is now, I allowed him to rip me off £13000 of dirty money. It was in this bedsit he introduced me to a man who wanted something doing. I had a line and he was arrested and sent to jail for the house burglary I did... I handed myself in, got sent down and got him out , an evil man, drug dealer who sold mcat and heroin and he respected me, people were scared of this, I moved in with him with plastic bags tied around my trainers holding them together, he gave me the resources to get more, taught me but when he went to jail, I was rich but I stopped selling drugs and one by one everyone left until the flat was seized by police. I tried to live a good life from here. Went to church and then back to court, I didn't care about whether or not I went back to jail for breaching probation or my community orders but they never sent me back and one day I left court and I met an angel twice my age who was the devil in disguise who mothered my daughter and I love them both still, neither of whom as I mention before will care to remember me because of the mother's choices. She turned my life around , shown me happiness not greed , she lied to me and left me. Built me up deliberately to destroy me.
When I left his flat, before meeting her. I lived in a hostel for just one more month full of heroin users and alcoholics and prostitutes,neither of which I was. I moved into a shared house for a year where it was an old crack den, my room was robbed, the walls put through, plasterboard ripped out until bare brick wall and electrics were exposed , asbestos, my room was trashed. I was robbed, only me, they all denied it.
A year later I left , cared for my best friends 30 year old diabetic brother who after I got a job and he was in hospital my best friend stabbed me in the back turned him against me after five months of cleaning his mess and wiping his arse and cleaning him, being the only one to call an ambulance and feed him and give him his insulin, without me he would have died. The paramedic said when he nearly entered a coma. Next thing I know I'm on the street. But they will realise their mistake one day.
Later the drug dealer came out of jail and caught up with me, wants £200 for his passport I lost and his white goods. But it wasn't my fault. I think he knows this and understands as when I told him I have some money for him, to this day I have no reply. I don't know what this means, does he still want his money?
I'm back in YMCA and I've pushed all my friends away. I'm now lying on my bed and after all this I have nothing to show for it. I'm alone in this world, I reflect on where I went wrong and how my choices led to this but at the same time I was never a bad person, I was just unlucky and got in with the wrong crowd caused by bad people before them. We are only human.
I wonder where I want to go in life. I am torn because I love my child and her mother but I also want to just leave and never look back until my child one day wants to find me.
I want to find a job but I also want to progress with my education.
I want to find somewhere to live over toward Thurmaston, but I want to move out of the city...
I don't know what to do.
It's half 6 on a slow Sunday afternoon, I feel demotivated with life, fed up of the stress. I feel dirty but can't even be bothered to have a shower. My room is depressing and dark and lonely and a mess and I will be happy when I get the motivation to clean it up, probably the day of room checks (Thursday).
I think about dad leaving mum, getting a divorce and mum selling the house, her threats of suicide and how I feel the same about my baby's mum leaving me. So many unanswered questions. I think my dad could answer the questions I ask Michelle because maybe their secrecy is for the same reasons.
One destroying thought I had one time was that due to the similarities in the way they left the person they apparently loved is that perhaps they got together. But they wouldn't, I don't think dad would even remember who she was.
Sometimes I feel the same as my mum to give up. Me and mum talk nearly daily now as dad talks to none of us much at all anymore, it's like he's forgotten me. Never texts me first but I'm used to this ... This is the same with everyone I know.
Sometimes she yells at me because of dad and I know it isn't my fault and I don't blame her, I hate seeing her like this. I want them to get back together like nothing happened, like I want me and my baby's mum to. I want my family to stay together ... My parents haven't even met my daughter, the mum wouldn't allow it.
Just writing that brings my eyes to tears as my stomach rumbles I realise I've not eaten in four days. I've lost so much weight.
I never liked children, I never wanted one but I love my daughter ... Do I go to court and take her away from her mum? She's worth more than an arm and a leg to me, every penny in the world. I can look after her, I know how to feed her and bathe her, change her and give her the support she needs, I can show her how to not have a past like mine and how to not make the wrong choices like I did. When I go to work in the future my mum can look after her or even my daughters mother if it suits her, I believe a child should have a strong bond with both parents but I believe I will be a better role model as I have the freedom to be a better parent, more focused on my daughter than her mother because I have no commitments as she often points out. If my daughter lived with me she would have a real relationship with both parents whereas with the mother she will be used as a weapon so her mother can use me as a play to as and when she wants. She told CSA that our entire 18 month relationship was a 1 night stand.
Her son sniffs MCAT and his best friend smokes weed and boasts of being a criminal, when my daughter was in her mothers stomach he brought two of his friends round who faced criminal charges after for beating me up, after being told to keep away from the witnesses the two boys who attacked me are still friends with my baby's mother. It hurts me to know of her betrayal. She told me often that my baby wasn't mine and wonders why I go for a DNA test. She gets angry, begs me to drop it and now hates me but doesn't want me to drop it. I don't think she knows the outcome.
Weed tastes like alcohol now, my stomach rumbles to tell me it's hungry but I can't be bothered ... I just want to sleep but know I will wake up at silly hours of tomorrow morning


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