Last day on the job

Today marks my last day working at the library. I've been offered a job working in the kitchen at a local diner. Nothing fancy, but it actually pays more than $6 an hour, so I'm taking it.

So I guess until I figure out another way to get computer access, this is goodbye...to all of those people NOT reading my blog.

He's gone

I don't see him in my dreams anymore.  In his place is Catty.  Her lips aren't sewn shut, but she doesn't know how to talk to me anymore.  She doesn't even recognize me.

She looks helpless, confused.  In five years I have not focused so much on my family.  Do they need me now?

I can't go home now.  It's been too long and they can never forgive me.  Small towns have a big memory, as the saying goes.  Or maybe there is no saying.  It's true either way.

I'm getting bored at the library.  I might be looking for a new job soon.  If so, it might be a while until I post again.

Joseph

PS.  Number of total blog views in almost 2 months?  Guess:  0

Another night. Another dream about dad.

I've been dreaming about him for over a week now.  I haven't even spoken to him in almost five years.  Why in the world is this coming up now?

In the dream he doesn't say anything.  Not because he doesn't want to.  His lips are sewn shut...but his eyes they plead with me.  He's begging me.

Why is he begging me?  I have no idea.  I wake up when the tears start streaming from his eyes.

Should I call him?  I've still got the house number, and when they left, they left me a calling card.  Which still has all the minutes on it.

Maybe I should give it a try.

Maybe not.

And the irony award goes to...

You know you are truly helpless, when you are unable to even help those that most need it.  A man asked me for change on my way home last night.  I had to tell him no because I couldn't afford to eat if I gave it to him.

You always wonder how people get in that shape.  Then you wake up and realize you aren't that far away.  Just a few missteps.

I dreamed about dad last night.  Just him.  It was strange.  I'm not used to having my dreams focus on anyone besides her.

In the end, what does it really matter?

100 years from now, a blink in the cosmic eye, absolutely nobody on earth will care about whats going on in the world right now.  Nobody will worry about how awful the president was, and nobody will wonder if the Republicans or Democrats are right.  And for sure, nobody will remember the name Joseph Aaron...unless its on a statue in Friars Point that says "Our Daughter, Killed by Joseph Aaron".

The nightmares are changing.  For the first time.  Is the blogging helping?

Amazing...

It's almost like the universe conspires to keep me anonymous.  For almost a month I have been blogging.  You would think that by shear coincidence, ONE PERSON would have stumbled onto this blog.

You would be wrong.  There have been ZERO outside hits.

Not that I care, I just find it unusual.

My little Catty-bug

When we were kids, Catherine was my best friend.  She had an imagination like nothing I have ever seen.  She could create entire worlds in her head.  Fantastic worlds for us to explore.  She was always the damsel in distress, and I her Prince Charming come to rescue her.

I didn't get to enjoy those times enough.  By the time she was old enough to really get creative, I had decided my kid sister was boring, and was more interested in hanging out with my friends, stealing cigarettes from the store.  Mostly trying to figure out how to get in trouble.

I do remember when we stopped being close.  It was her big day.  Opening night for the school play, and she had scored the leading role.  For months it was all she talked about.

And I missed it.  I was too busy with my friends to be there for my sister.  So how could I have ever asked her to be there for me...

The nightmares

I'm in hell I suppose.  In my dreams I mean.  Every time its the same dream.  Their faces are all there.  Mom, Dad, Catty...

And then I see her.  The face that haunts my every moment.  How did I get in this place where hope seems like a fantasy?

Her face...its not the beautiful face I knew and loved.  Or rather half of it is.  The other half is the damaged, burned, torn face I watched fade to death in front of me.  In my very arms.

And then they are all turning towards me.  Begging me for help.  What can I do to help them?  I've already let them all down too many times.  I barely have the energy to keep breathing, how can I possibly save them?

A week passes.

Blog views in the past week: 0.  That has to be some kind of record.

The mayor of Chicago came to the library to announce a new funding program for kids.  He shook everyone's hand that lined up.  Everyone except mine.  He walked right past me, didn't even offer me a smile.  I don't think I have ever felt more invisible.

In my apartment(closet more like it) I keep a picture of my family.  I look at it while I lay in bed, and I imagine that I'm still back there, and nothing ever happened, and nothing ever changed.

I imagine that I'm still in love with her, and our date that night went fine, and I never took my eyes off the road, and I never hit the bridge embankment, and I never heard her scream, and I never watched the life leave her eyes while I waited on the ambulance.

I imagine all of this, then when I sleep, the nightmares come back.

A blog for the anonymous life...

My name could be anything... but lets just assume its Jo.  Short for Joseph.  If you had asked me five years ago where I would be, the answer would most definitely not be the slums of Chicago, borrowing internet time in exchange for cleaning the toilets at the library.

My life matters to no one.  I said goodbye to my old life the day my old life said goodbye to me.

I'm a man with no belongings, and a man that belongs to no one.  If I died, absolutely nobody would notice.

My family...I miss them, but they look at me with such disdain.  I can't face them.  It's been so long since I saw them.  Catty-did, my little sister.  She's grown up now I suppose...

I think I will go now.  This blog thing is depressing.