April 30, 2010
To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,
Seth, I never knew being homeless was this rough. I thought it would be camping outside, under the stars, and the occasional commando toileting in the alleys of New York, but I was naive and dumb. I wanted to get out of the house because my Dad called me a slut, but I think God was looking out for me.
The Police Officer who I met at the 9/11 Memorial building took me to the station, and got me cab to meet Sister Mary McGeady at Covenant House a couple days ago. I was anticipating a nun, but I got some lady who said he was a counselor when I got there at close to 9 pm.
"Maria, is it?" she said. She had glasses on that looked too big for her eyes and nose bridge. She looked young, with streaks of copper and blonde highlights on her black hair.
"Yes, I'm Maria. The NYPD sent me here," I said.
"I know. I'm happy they sent you here. I didn't want to see you get arrested for sleeping in restricted areas. The building you slept in weren't designed for the homeless. It was built to commemorate the fallen," she said. "Josey, that's my name."
"Thank you, Josey," I said. Her voice was soft as she enunciated every word perfectly. "You're not from around here, are you? Are all New Yorkers as nice as you?"
Josey smiled, and told me, "I'm from Jersey, and I went to school in the Midwest, Wyoming, actually. I'm a peer-counselor."
I nodded, and my backpack felt so heavy and my stomach growled as I tried to move my hands over my belly to hide my embarrassment.
"You're starving. Let's go to the cafeteria," said Josey. "You'll meet new friends there. It's also a sort of coffee place and a study hall place for group work."
"Thank you," I said.
The cafeteria was a large dining hall with just long tables like in high school, and a kitchen.
"I was told Sister McGeady will meet me," I asked.
"She's already home, and she might join us tomorrow, but she's been ill lately, so we might not get to see her until later on during your stay here," said Josey.
I looked to my hands and felt dirty and wanted badly to wash myself. On top of feeling hungry, I wanted to meet Sister McGeady because perhaps I would be forgiven for the wrongs I've done.
"The one who is in you, is greater than he who is in this world," said Josey.
I looked to her, and my eyes mist into tears, and I asked her, "I'm filthy, why do you think my insides are still great?"
"You're not filthy in my eyes," said Josey. "Everyone deserves second chances. You deserve yours."
"I'm so scared," I told her. My thoughts were full of fears. I haven't taken my meds, and I don't have any meds anymore. Everything I had was in my backpack.
"Let's get you something to eat, and I want you to meet someone," said Josey.
We walked towards the back corner of the cafeteria and a young man was sitting at the last chair with his belly over his jeans, and his cheeks red. His brown eyes were forthcoming, and he opened his arms to me, expecting a huge hug.
"Will you be my friend?" he said.
I looked at his face and his husky body, large and sort of obese. Actually, he was obese.
"Everyone has a different walk, Mary," said Josey. She pulled out a chair next to the young man and sat down. "Meet Joey."
"I'm Fat Joey," he said. He laughed and looked into my eyes that were moist. I didn't want to repeat what he said, because I didn't want to call him Fat Joey.
"Okay...okay....just Joey," he said. "I was just joking."
I offered a hand shake and he got up and walked around the table and hugged me, gently. "I don't want to squish you," he said. His smile made me smile, and he poked his stomach and started to giggle. "Marshmallow man!" he said. "Get it! Ghostbusters!!"
I laughed with him, and remembered the iconic movie. I loved Ghostbusters.
"My Mom kicked me out of the house because I was fat. She didn't know how jolly I can be. I make other kids laugh, even with the depression I have," said Joey.
My tears began to peek out again, as I wiped my eyes out of the thought of how kind Joey was being and how cruel his Mom was to him.
"We were poor," said Joey. "My Mom couldn't feed all of us and I was always eating most of the foods."
"I hate your Mom," I told him. "You're such a wonderful friend already."
"Mary, we want to show you something," said Josey.
Joey walked back to his chair, and took out a piece of paper with a drawing on it. It has words written down, "Welcome, Maria. We will make you feel at home," it said.
"I made it. I was told to make you smile tonight, but I didn't do that, yet," said Joey.
I smiled at him, and gave him a huge hug.
"Ooooh, you smell funny, Mary," said Joey. I laughed out loud.
"She will shower in her room in the girls hall," said Josey. "For now, let's get her some chicken pot pie, and we've got to let her just enjoy her dinner. Mary, you can shower afterwards."
"Thank you, Josey," I said.
A woman with an apron walked to the table and gave me a tray of a chicken pot pie and some fries on a plate, with a glass of milk next to it and chocolate pudding. "Her name is Maria, too, Maria. Oh wow...this might get confusing," siad Josey.
"You can call me M, like in 007," said Maria, the woman wearing an apron.
"Nice!" said Joey, and he clapped. "You'll get to know Maria, Maria. She loves movies, and she can give you a quote of a movie and we'll have to guess where it's from."
"Oh wow....I never knew anyone who can do that," I said.
"Oh, I kid you not," said Maria.
"Is that from a movie, Maria?" asked Josey.
"No," said Maria. "But, if I would have said 'I shit you not' then it would have been from The Rock, that film on Alcatraz Island."
"Holy moly," said Joey. "See....she's like Bollywood Jeopardy."
"I know Saturday Night Live," I said. "I can impersonate any of the characters on the sketches."
"SNL sucks!" said Maria.
"WHAT?!" I said, surprised. "I write to Seth Meyers almost every night!"
"You're nuts," said Joey. "But, you should send him those letters."
"Maybe we can do that later," said Josey. "Let's let Maria eat and have some sleep."
"We've got a lot of adventures to come," said Joey. "We can walk everywhere. I gotta lose weight."
"Pace with him," said Maria.
"Thank you, Joey. I can't wait to spend some time here," I said.
The night proved to be one of the most endearing bonding moment in my lifetime. Seth, I never knew Covenant House was this kind, and I never knew it was here. I was lucky that I wasn't harmed the way some of the children of the night were, as I knew from the past and from stories of other highschoolers who knew of so and so who ran away and got trafficked. I was about done when I walked out of my house, and I thought my life would be short. But, having Covenant House and Joey, Josey and Bollywood Maria, made me realize there were good people in this world. Jack wasn't one and he didn't love me, but I never knew there were so many others who loved me. Tonight, I felt the hand of God.
Hoping I found my help,
WishesOoohWishes.
May 1, 2010
To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,
There was an ambulance early this morning, and I woke up from the noise of the girls outside talking loudly.
"She just had it," said a brunette with her puffy eyes. "I didn't know she would do it, but she did."
"What is going on?" I asked her.
"A girl wanted to run away and the staff told her she couldn't so she took all her meds," said the brunette. "I'm Geraldine, but you can call me, Pillow."
"Pillow, why Pillow?" I asked her.
"That's what this guy used to call me and it just got stuck," said Geraldine.
"May I just call you Geraldine?" I asked, politely.
"I guess so, but everyone, and I do mean everyone, calls me Pillow. It's because I'm a comforter."
"I would prefer to call you Geraldine," I said.
She smiled at me, and told me, "The ambulance will take good care of her, and you won't turn out like her."
I nodded, as some strands of my hair fell to the side of my face and I tucked it behind my ears.
"Why are you here? What's your name?" asked Geraldine. "You must have came after hours. We turn off the lights at 8 in the evenings, every night."
"Mary, or Maria, I ran away and was arrested by the 9/11 Memorial building," I replied,
"What happened to you?" asked Geraldine.
"Rape, my ex-boyfriend did it," I said, my eyes low.
"All of us here were raped once or more before. It's common," said Geraldine.
I looked around me and all the girls gave me a smile. They were all of different races and mostly teens and some were a little older, but mostly about my age. It felt bittersweet, knowing I wasn't alone, but I didn't want the things that I had to endure to happen to us. I didn't want my life to happen to someone else.
"All of these girls?" I asked, my head turned to Geraldine. She nodded, and said, "Girls...what do you think?"
Some of the girls also nodded, and some waved at me. Seth, I didn't know it was this common. I wondered if there were so many versions of Jack in America. How many of them were there? Why did they do this to us?
"You're not alone," said Geraldine.
"It's a horrible way to find out," I said. I covered my eyes and realized that most of the girls in my hall now were once raped or violated by someone even worse than just a boyfriend. Perhaps it was their Dad, brother, cousin, uncle or someone random who hurt them, but we all had something in common, we were girls not yet women, and we didn't know what to do.
"Stay here, until you get better. The peer advisors will help you," said Geraldine. "Are you in school?"
"I dropped out," I said.
"You can get into the education program here," said Geraldine. "Don't run away this time. Do your parents know you ran away?"
"I don't know if my Dad knows," I said. "He's an alcoholic."
"All good girls finish best," said Geraldine. "You're a good girl. Be kind to yourself."
I didn't finish talking to Geraldine, but I knew that there were stories to every soul who occupied the rooms about me. I wasn't the only lost soul and the only weary heart that came to this place. I wanted to say to myself that I was strong, but I felt so weak and I felt so scared. I supposed God sent me here, without knowing. Maybe my high school buddies were right, maybe somethings do work out when you work hard enough.
Seth, I would never know if you'd care for me, and I would never know if you'd appreciate me if I was a run away and if I was a survivor. I won't know if you'd be scared of me, because I was trying to stalk you at the Rockefeller Center. I really wanted to meet you, and ask you to help me with a pep-talk and to reason on my behalf, but I won't ever know if that would happen. All I knew right now was that I was no longer alone and I met those of the same circumstances, and we were not happy. Seth, I wish you could tell me a story that would make me laugh, and make all of us laugh. I could always pray.
I'm forever your girl,
WishesOoohWishes.
May 2, 2010
To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,
I didn't get out of my room. I stayed here after breakfast. I had cereal, with flax seed with six grams of fiber. Won't be enough to get me to the toilet, but not joking. I didn't leave my room.
I stayed in my room for lunch, too. There was just a bed and I signed up to go to the computer room, but I'm considered crisis intake youth, considering how I was just homeless a couple days ago and got arrested. I guess that made me a crisis.
You know how people know where to go when they got off the elevator? Mine keeps going up and down and my mood swings from side to side and it's mostly low to the ground in drastic mode, and when the elevator door opens, I suddenly forgot what I was doing. It's no wonder my Dad didn't want me to drive. I never drove, and I didn't have a car. I walked everywhere. Even with my money from T-Bell. It was barely enough to make the rent and the bills.
I wish I could talk to you, and ask you to help me. I wished you truly was a big brother of mine, and someone who cared for me. I probably wouldn't be this way if I wasn't the only child, but it felt alone most of the time, and I had no one to confide in. I used to talk to Jack and Mabel but I mostly wanted a man to help me. I looked up to my Dad, but he was barely there.
Don't get me wrong, I loved that he worked at Target and made ends meet with me at our little home, but I wished he didn't drink so much. I wished for so many things. I wished I never worried about what other people would say, and what Mabel would tell others. I trusted Sam, but he wasn't cool, Seth. Jack was cool, and I looked at their appearance more than their hearts. I got in trouble because of it. Is your heart good, Seth?
I used to watch these shows on the television, as much as I watched SNL, but I wondered if they really were good enough to be on the shows or if they hurt someone to get there. Did you ever screw someone over in modeling or back stab someone? I thought about Jack and how he will get on in his life. I couldn't handle my tears at the thought of him walking on graduation, being loved by his parents, then going to college and meeting someone else, and getting on with his big life and who knows...at my luck, he'd end up at SNL or even another acting gig and become famous. What would you say to someone like me at my position, Seth?
I didn't get out of my room because I would walk out there in the world as the loser. The teen pregnancy case that aborted because she asked for the rape. What would anyone say to me? How was I supposed to fix this now? My life ends here, I think.
I want to go end it,
WishesOoohWishes.
May 3, 2010.
To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,
I ate cereal again with six grams of fiber. I ate the same cereal and if I added up all the fibers, I might as well take Dulcolax, but the strange thing is, I'm only urinating, and not anything else. Sorry, Seth, it's not like you'd like to know, but I guess that was a dirty joke from a girl on Bipolar Depression.
I stayed alive, and today I sat near the television but only stared at it. I couldn't do anything except write on these journals. My peer counselor asked me if I would ever want to go back to school to major in English. I told her, "If I'm still alive, probably."
I've been writing on my existensial mood swings all of my life and that's all I know how to do. Aren't English Majors, also Literature Majors? Aren't they supposed to read? Well.....I haven't really read. I've read trashy magazines that Dad had under the sink. But the writing is all shitty and some were supposed to be from world class writers, but they all write narcisist so well that I could only look at the nude pictures and adds.
Forget it, Seth. I was never born to write. I'm a shitty writer, too. My life IS shit.
Shitty life, Mary,
WishesOoohWishes.
May 5, 2010.
To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,
I took my meds, that's all I remembered for today.
Medicated, Mary,
WishesOoohWishes.
May 6, 2010.
To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,
Joey pounded on my door, and I was really upset. He told me that the peer counselor has been asking me to get out and I missed my appointments with her. I told Joey, "I'm in crisis.....forever."
"That's not allowed," said Joey. His belly somehow closed the distance between us, and I was pretty sure our faces were about three feet apart. Anyway, he's big, and I looked at myself, and I felt big, too.
"You're new. You have to obey the rules, besides staying in your room and resting. There is a whole world outside. Let's go," said Joey.
I couldn't do anything else but cry and tears just kept flowing. I didn't want to go outside. Everyone had a compass in life, and I had an abortion. I had no assets, and nothing to live for. I felt like a loser and I didn't want anything else to do other than just sleep it off. I had a comfortable bed now and since I'm in crisis, I will just sleep here and not get out. Not write to anyone but you, Seth.
"You have to do something else. Get out of that head or yours," said Joey.
"I'm comfortable here," I replied. It was true. It was all that I knew how to do, Seth. Write to you, write what I know and it's all the shitty things in life and not get out of the world inside my head. It helps me cope and it helps me to be safe. I was becoming a hermit, but who the fuck cares? I killed a fetus, and unborn child, because I asked for the rape. I had a choice and I was pro at it, but it wasn't my fault but it felt like it was all my fault. What would you say to me, Seth? What the fuck was I supposed to do now?
I saved myself but lost my soul,
WishesOoohWishes.
May 7, 2010.
To the Forever Gorgeous Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live,
My peer counselor came to my room this early morning, and she told me to shower first and eat breakfast then to go for a walk with her. Her name is Joy.
"The first thing that happened to you, the first trauma," she asked.
"My Mom left," I answered.
"Good. What's it like?" asked Joy.
"She hates us. It was her way out to get out of town," I said.
"Did you hear her say this?" asked Joy.
"No, but why would she leave?" I said.
"Was your Dad loyal?" asked Joy.
"As far as I know," I said.
"But you never asked him what happened?" asked Joy.
"She just disappeared, and never came home," I answered. "It's been like this since middle school."
"That was just a few years ago," said Joy. "You're 16? 15?"
"17," I said. "I tell people I'm 21."
"You look 12," said Joy.
I frowned. I hated Joy.
"You think all girls and women are mean?" asked Joy. "Or is that leading"
"They can be bitches," I said. "Irresponsible. I felt like I had to parent my Dad because my own Mom didn't want to take care of us."
"I see," said Joy. "What about your Dad? Is he okay?"
"He drinks," I answered.
"Did anything wrong happen? Abuse? Hitting, or did he ever hurt you at all?" asked Joy.
"No, he's too drunk when he gets home. His friend Sam is always with him, but he's passed out, too," I said.
"You're lucky Sam and your Dad didn't hurt you," said Joy. "Alcohol changes you."
"My Dad has a temper, but I wasn't hurt. I just worked a lot, and when I was little, I used to go in my room and wrote on my diary or watched tv by myself," I said. "Especially on Saturday Nights."
"What would you watch on television?" asked Joy.
"Re-runs of old shows, I love Lucy, Friends, and SNL on Saturday Nights," I said.
"Is that the journal you have?" asked Joy.
"I'm writing it inside my head and on these papers on real time," I answered.
"Okay....," said Joy. She shook her head and said, "SNL is a bit older for you."
"I like Seth Meyers," I said. (Seth.....I'm only 17, but my heart is 45).
The rest of the time with Joy was answers and questions about my Dad. I supposed it was where Jack came in, for my yearning for male attention. Joy didn't need to ask me more because I said, "I wanted to own my own love. Something irreplacable. Unlike my Mom."
"I'm sorry, Mary," said Joy. "I wished I knew why men rape."
"I still love my Dad. I just got scared that he would hit me and raped me that night when he got angry," I answered.
"He called," said Joy. "He asked me if it would be okay for him to talk to you?"
"How did he know I was here?" I asked.
"The Police Department called his house, because they found your ID, and found out your Dad was home. They told him," said Joy. "Don't be scared. Your Dad sounded kind. We will supervise your visit."
"I want to stay here," I said.
"You can stay," said Joy. "Especially if there is alcohol abuse inside your home."
"Thank you, Joy," I said.
"I think we can still walk outside and get some air," said Joy. "Want to get lunch, later?"
"I'd like that," I answered.
"Let's go to Be-wich-ed," said Joy. Be-wich-ed is a sandwich shop nearby here, Seth. If you've never been there, you should go because I got myself a tuna sandwich and it was delicious.
The rest of the time with Joy was walking down memory lane, the first time I fell down, the first kiss with Jack, and some talks about SNL and how you were never really on any sketches or I felt you looked incognito in all of them, until Weekend Update. Joy said she liked you, too, but she said you will most likely be married within a couple of years. Well, ...since it's 2010, I'll just count my blessings on having you in my heart and at the tip of my pen each night. Until then, Sethy. I supposed with Joy as my peer-counselor, I have so much to work through.
Somewhat making sense today,
WishesOoohWishes.