Here I am again, the only spot in the world that makes sense, 806 N Michigan AveChicago, IL, the Water Tower. There is nothing better than walking in depression, while knowing that everything around you is happy. I come out here some times just to hope that some of the good vibes that are around me will rub off on me. It hasn’t worked yet, but I feel confident about this time. I just walk around, moping, hoping that someone will ask me what is wrong. I just want them to ask so that I can tell someone my troubles. All I want is for someone to listen to me, for someone to slow down their day and speed up on what someone else is doing. Does that make me selfish? Well, so be it. I am a 15 year old, African American, selfish man.
As I moped around Chicago, I noticed that there was no one who seemed to care enough to stop and see if everything was alright. Until a homeless guy walked up and asked me, “Hey young fella. Havin’ a bad day?” I guess that he was just trying to strike conversation to have a way into my wallet. He looked like he had just dipped his clothes in a Porto-Potty. And when he opened his mouth I could have sworn I had gotten hit by a bull that was encased in fecal matter and French onion dip. But at this point I didn’t really care what he looked like; I needed to talk to someone. I needed to “vent” if you will.
“Sir, I am having the worst week of my life.” I told the homeless guy. “My girlfriend is pregnant, my family is fighting, my schoolwork is putting way too much stress on my shoulders, and it seems to me that no one is interested in my issues. I try to involve myself else’s problems to make them better. But no one seems to be repaying the favor to me. So I have all of these other people’s issues on my mind, in addition to my own. What am I suppose to do to relieve some of my issues? All I want is for someone to take two-”
“ What is wrong with kids these days?”