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Tired of Crying

 

Tired of Crying Excerpt:

 

 

Ronald. At first, I was very happy to hear from him because he was the only one I was close to in that family and he understood me. My happiness faded when he started cursing me out, telling me that it was my fault and that I had killed my son. He told me that if I had stayed with Jesse and kept my family together, none of this would have happened.

 

 At that moment, I blacked out. I started yelling and going off. I threw the phone at the wall and ran out of the house barefoot. I had no idea where I was going. I vaguely remember running into an intersection, and just as suddenly as I started running, I stopped and started to walk very slowly. I saw the car coming faster and faster,but I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop! I didn’t want to stop! I told myself that everything would be okay very soon. I had stepped off the curb,confident that everything would be okay no matter what occurred. I walked into traffic never looking to the left or right; I kept my eyes straight and kept walking, waiting for it to all be over. Yet, the impact I had braced myself for never came. The car swerved and I heard aloud honk, but I didn’t care. I just kept walking until I realized I was on the other side of the street. Looking back, I couldn’t understand how I made it across untouched. Still in a haze, I didn’t even try to figure it out. I just kept walking, and when I did look up, I realized that I was at Christina’s house.

 

She’d moved out of the back of my grandmother house into a large two-bedroom apartment just a few blocks from my aunt’s house a few years earlier. Keithshon was staying there and I hadn’t planned to go see him. Actually, I really didn’t want to see anyone; but as I was walking up the steps to her apartment, I knew God had sent me to him. I went into the house and he was sitting on the floor watching television. I gathered him into my arms and held him tightly—never wanting to let go.

 

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