The Headache The Madness The Killing .....

Yesterday was a mess. I woke up all twisted over not seeing Bethany before we left. Head pounding. Only thing I had to eat was fish. My body screaming for more, my mind hung on what I couldn’t control.

Then my brother rolls in at 7pm with his girlfriend, leaves, comes back at 9pm with food for the youngest. That’s when the chorus of complaints started — why I’m always on the PC, what I do, what I don’t. Old grievances repackaged, served fresh. So I did what I had to do. Walked out. Took my cameras. Let the streets witness my frustration.

Dad got on me too — talking bus routes, city navigation, knowing the way. But how was I supposed to know a bus wouldn’t drop me at her mom’s house in the subdivision off the service road? I caught a cab. Simple. Efficient. Correct. And yet somehow that’s a problem. My brother likely twisted it, fed the narrative: “He doesn’t know where he is. He’s reckless.” Truth? I knew exactly where I was. No bus stops. No route. Only logic. Only action.

Then came the blame — my failures, my testing, my learning curves, all pulled into a public spectacle. My older brother thinks my PC is a playground for nonsense, thinks I only burn CDs for profit, thinks I only play games. The truth? HTML, digital art, multimedia, creation. I graduated high school three years ago with this tool. Not a toy. Not a playground. A weapon of intellect.

Aaaah… the weight of assumptions. My father, my brothers — insane worlds colliding with mine. All I can do is let it flow through, not against me.

I walked. Circulated the hood to clear the static in my head. Saw Danielle from elementary school, smiled in quiet acknowledgment, hid my anger. Stopped at an abandoned porch to rest. Hamburg Street later — cats prowling, shadows shifting. Green beam of my camera cutting through night. People scatter. Energy shifts.

Somebody got shot while I was out. The hood whispers. Streets pulse with lives I observe, not touch. My father tells me my brothers feared for me. I stay calm, betray no emotion. Headed upstairs, body tired, heart restless.

And yet, through it all — the soundtrack of memory. Destiny’s Child plays. That song — the first full listen in the car with Bethany. Prom night. Loss and longing pressed together like vinyl under needle. Reminders of leaving, of love, of small tragedies that matter.

Today, I bought back my tux. Hope they get the stain out. Life presses on. Grape juice bar mitzvahs, ordinary chaos, extraordinary moments.