Ballerina

by Jimmy Esmaeili

  My step-mother raised me a single parent so it’s apparent.

  I got love from my step-mother and hatred from my father.

  It’s much important I’m getting angrier why I shoud use them to same reason! I feel like the bulls; and I need couples of horns to squeeze them into his balls. He got a bunch of Gang of Wolves, killing the future children and fuck with their goals.

  Physically, mentally, drags them into the needles, sends them to streets and makes of them to turn into beetles.

  Every early in the morning, I’m rising to the streets, looking for someone to light my cigarette. My hair will stick out in about fifteen directions; my eyes look all small and puffy from crying. This is me look like in the morning. Sometimes feeling panicked and ignoring the growing pounding in my head. Jumping up, running past my water to the bathroom, stripping down and take a quick survey of the rest of my body to make sure there is no other inked surprises. My sadness will use the shimmering wings of the morning kissed with dew and promise to sail away, and the dark Heart of the night will rush headlong into the blinding light of the day, to kiss it full and hard upon the mouth and embrace life’s brilliant once more. I strap my shoes on my feet, and I look to find a reason why everything went wrong. I am looking for a reason why Sandra should be sacrificed! Life is too short, so love the one you got. Because you might walking on the streets and get run over! Or maybe someone is hiding somewhere to shoot at you! I want to battle and this time I want to kill him, to make him disappear and send him to the hell. I’m looking to who I became today! Someday I was exceptionally bright. My perfect scores on early test papers aroused such suspicion that I carefully achieved only average grades thereafter. What caused such precociousness? My step-mother was intellectually unremarkable, possessing no obvious genetic advantages. Perhaps I decided myself also to be intelligent rather than otherwise? When my mother died I had to face a different decision. My inheritance offered lifelong idle luxury, and yet, needing nothing. I burned with the paradoxical urge to do everything. You see what I’m saying; my intellect set me apart, felt with difficult choices. I knew nobody whose advice might prove useful. Nobody is living. The only human being with whom I felt any kinship died today for me. I idolized her, a mother of love. It don’t matter squat how far I go but he’ll be within my reach and I’m going to kill him at all costs. I returned to the street from the police station and saw that the sun had grown weaker. Beautiful and clear as it had been, the morning (As the day approached the completion of its first half) was becoming dump and misty; heavy clouds moved from the north and were invading the top of the mountain, covering it with a light broom. It seemed to be fog, and perhaps fog also rising from the ground, but at that altitude it was difficult to distinguish the mists that rose from below and those that come down from above. It was becoming hard to discern the bulk of the more distant building. While I was walking home suddenly I felt an irregular heartbeat. It was beating fast and slow. It started as mild chest pain which got increasingly worse. And then it extended pain from my chest up my neck to my temple area on the left hand side of my head. Everyone’s sponges and we all absorb. We are all judged for what we take in, but remembered for what we spit out. I’m tired of earth, and these people. I’m tired of being caught in the tangle of their lives. They claim their labors are to build a heaven, yet their heaven is populated with horrors. Perhaps the world is not made. Perhaps nothing is made. A clock without a craftsman, it’s too late, always has been, always will be. There is no feature; there is no past, do you see? Time is simultaneous, an intricately structure Jewel that human insists on viewing one edge at a time, when the whole design is visible in every facet. We’re all puppets. I’m just a puppet who can see the strings. I’m through thinking about my life, looking back at all my stupid memories. It’s been a dumb life, and if there was a design, it was dumb design. Sandra, she eroded my adolescence, chipping me into the shape she’d have been if she hadn’t had me. She pushed me to adventuring, fussing over my career; I tried to live my life through her. I used to be masked avenger too, remember… I’m used to going out at three in the morning and doing something stupid. This city is dying of rabies, and covered of such those animals like Ray and his kinds! Is the best I can do to wipe random flecks of foam away from his mouth! In the cemetery, all white crosses stood in rows, neat chalk marks on a giant scoreboard. Paid last respect quietly, without fuss! I never said; “The superman exists, and he is American”. What I said was; “God exists, and he’s American”. Ray like a dog carcass in alleys every morning, tire tread on burst stomach. This city is afraid of him. I have seen his filthy face. The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown. The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their wastes and all the whores and politicians will look up and shut “Save us”. I am walking home in the rain and thinking of Sandra. People are looking at me kind of crazy street addicts. I walk in the rain, so no one can see me crying. There are a hundred things I have tried to chase away the things I won’t remember and that I can’t even let myself think about because that’s when the birds scream and the worms crawl and somewhere in my mind it’s always raining a slow and endless drizzle. I’ve been struggling with paranoia and suffered enough for months I was been in that basement, scary and horrible minutes after minutes. People sometimes say that the way things happen in the movies is unreal, but actually it’s the way things happen to you in life that’s unreal the movies make emotions look so strong and real, whereas when things really do happen to you, it’s like watching television- you don’t feel anything. I think young people have more problems than old people, and I hope I could last until me get older so I will have all those problems. Then I look around and see that everybody who looks young has young problems and everybody who looks old has old problems. The “Old” problems to me look easier to take than the “Young” problems. Sometimes we fantasize that people who are really up-there and rich and living it up have something you don’t have, that their things must be better than your things because they have more money than you. But they drink the Cokes and eat the same hot dog and wear the same clothes (I mean “Clothes”) and see the same TV shows and the same movies. Rich people can’t see a sillier version of Truth or consequences, or a scarier version of the Exorcist. You can get just as revolted as they can—you can have the same nightmares. Sometimes people let the same problem make them miserable for years when they could just say, “So what”. That’s one of my favorite’s things to say, “So what”. I am a drug addict, “So what”. Sandra didn’t like it, “So what”. People are looking at me kind of a ghost walking in the rain, “So what”. I don’t know how I made it through all the years before I learned how to do that trick. It took a long time for me to learn it, but once you do, you never forget. At the times in my life when I was feeling the most gregarious and looking for bosom friendship, I couldn’t find any takers so that exactly when I was alone was when I felt the most like not being alone. The moment I decided I’d rather be alone and not have anyone telling me their problems, everybody I’d never even seen before in my life started running after me to tell me things I’d just decided I didn’t think it was a good to hear about. I am a human, just like everybody else. I was under horrible pressure in my life. Perhaps I needed love, and gentleness, and kindness, enough of all of them to compensate for the pressure that I worked with. If I was breaking under the strain of all that, then Sandra herself had to be at fault as much as anyone could be! Well, I (Psychology) a state of mental or emotional strain or suspense, I suffered from fatigue and emotional tension; stress was a vasoconstrictor. She was a beautiful woman, who started with all the advantages. She married for love, and the love turned to dust. Hurriedly she felt she might cover up some fault in herself. What it was that she might cover up she never knew. Nevertheless, when I was present, she always felt the Centre of her heart go hard. That troubled her, and in he
r manner she was all the more gentle and anxious for me, as if she loved me very much. Only she herself knew that at the Centre of her heart was a hard little place that couldn’t feel love, no, not for anybody. Drug dealer time is like being on mushrooms. They are fucking dicks and don’t care about you. They sell drugs and they think it is an awesome way to make money. They can meet coke sluts and have party with them. A drug dealer has two ways of selling drugs: has either deliver or has people stop by his house to pick up. Both ways have their pros and cons. As a drug dealer he is a criminal and you guess what? He is attracting the other types of criminals and thugs. These guys don’t give a fuck about pointing a gun at your face or pulling a knife on you and taking whatever you got, whether that’s drugs or whatever else is on you or in your place When someone has taken drug for so long that they are immune to getting that high. “How long have been on drugs?” “For 25 years. Do you think I’m drug fucked?” “Damn, I hope not. That sucks.” I wonder why is it that innocent persons (I mean Sandra and her fiancée) should have been tortured and killed! In most cases, the police need subtitles for crimes where they have been able to identify arrest the real culprits. Officers in charge of police station were under pressure from their superiors to take effective action on reported to Sandra and her fiancée and all of the others crimes. Higher-ranking officers were under pressure from the public and politicians to show result. Under all these pressures, when police cannot produce real result, they attempt to produce anything at all. As hard as I should push them and telling them that, that mastermind Ray was behind the murders, you have to go and arrest him. But they said they need to have a motive. They even asked me, why I would be so interested with getting him arrested! “Because he is a gamer and because I was supposed to be his next victim but he didn’t kill me. He dragged me along to Narcotic and told me it just wasn’t my time to die”. One of the cops was standing there and with big, wide-open eyes gazing at me without speaking. He had a secret within a secret, something he hadn’t divulged. I thought he knew whom I was talking about! He just started with some small steps towards me, undecided and a little bit sullen for some moments said; “Are you talking about Ray? Ray Dillon? How do you know him? Do you know he is one of the most dangerous and criminal gang masters in this city”? He casually asked me how I knew him and he became extremely defensive and weird about it. I could imagine deep down that he knew Ray was guilty as charged! I could see into his eyes, he was denying fervently. Then he warned me to get off his back and leave him alone. “I said if you were me you let it go just so easy? Let me tell you something, I would be awfully glad to see him behind the bars that make me relax and then as you said I will get off his back”. I said weirdly. “I’m sure you will. But for now, you ought to know you don’t need to be worry. We’ll catch the criminals who murdered your mother and I don’t want you just be quick to accuse people falsely. So get out of here before I put you behind the bars”. I couldn’t control my anger and I believe I was about to explode far many times. My dreams becoming violent every time I think about them. No matter how I try to define it, but I’ve been broken so many times. Too much emotion with no confident! I had no idea what to expect but like the others, I always wanted to be a ballerina, so I built up the courage and finally made it to a class. When I arrived I quickly realized everyone else had been dancing at least a couple of years already and there I was, the newbie, standing in the middle of studio not even sure if I was wearing the correct ballet attire. Every time I get home after class I should burst into tears and felt like giving up. It was just too hard. If it wasn’t for Sandra I should give up many times. I was so hopeless that I thought I could never see myself becoming a beautiful ballerina. I remember, one day one of the students in the class came up to me and asked; “is there anything I can buy to help me get better at ballet”? Those words hit me like a ton of bricks. That student was just like I once was. She desperately wanted to achieve her dream of becoming a ballerina and knew she needed more than her one class of ballet a week to get there. My dream of becoming a beautiful ballerina was very quickly faded away, blown away. I wish my mother was here to see how became of her daughter. I can’t forger, when I was just a small child and fell ill with a cold, she would ensconce me in her big bed, pile the pillows behind me so I could breathe easily and bring my meals there on a large tray. The tray was placed on a bed table painted a cheery green. It had cunning little folding legs and a raised edge to keep dishes from sliding off. Now who is going to take care of? I’m sick, I’m ill. Please mom, I need your help, come help me. Save your child. Ensconce me in your bed, pile the pillows behind me. I’m hungry; please bring my meal on a large tray. A mother is born the moment she gives birth to her child. She is the epitome of love and sacrifice. A smile on her child’s face is what she always craves for. Nothing in this universe can substitute a mother.

  God sent me in this world, with a purpose in his mind

  it took me many years, but today his reason, I did find.

  I was small and helpless; I couldn’t even walk on my own.

  She held my hand, made me stand, and today whatever I am.

  It is because of the difficulties she has borne.

  Those days were so short lived, I remember every second of whatever I did.

  I had no tensions and nothing to worry about, and the things didn’t go my way. But today, time made me to take a step out of my comfort zone. In front of me a lot of challenges, they will take me down. I got scared; I lost my confidence and decided to step back. But I wished Sandra was here, to support me, to motivate me, and bring me back on track. Whatever little I have achieved so far is because of the blessing of her. Like all the moms of this world her sacrifice cannot be compared with any other. Today when time has taken a U-turn, I got a new lesson to learn. All these years she did every possible thing to ensure a smile on my face. Now it’s my turn to remove that filthy and garbage

  (I mean Ray) from his life and makes this world a beautiful place.

  Today, when I am on the verge of living my dream,

  time to kill and wipe away that motherfucker slim.

  This thought is killing me inside, and I find it very difficult to decide.

  Should I stay in this life and suffer, or should I run after that cursed creature duffer! I know mom will say “don’t worry about me, go conquer your dream and win”. This time I will finish what I started even to scarify myself in hopping to win. But how can I forget those trembling legs, stammering voice and a crying face, which used to light up with a smile when my mom took me in her embrace.