I came to East Hartford, rather ironically, to start over. It's funny, 'cause that's exactly what I want to - no, need to - do now. I need to start over, escape this damnable town and all that's occurred within it.
I came here to gain things, and now everything that I came here for is gone. I'd say I'm lucky to be alive. But the thing is, I'm not. I'd perhaps be better off dead, though I've lost the courage to go ahead and find out.
I came here to escape - my family, most of all, but much else, too. Myself, my mind, my past. I thought I had outrun it all, but as it turns out, I can't. No matter how far and how fast I run, I'm always two steps behind. I've only managed to dig myself deeper into a bottomless pit of hell that we call life.
You know that old urban legend about alligators in the sewers? Many an old man would tell me that back when I was a kid, and I never really believed them. I was a smart kid, too smart for my own good. (I still am.) I've learned that there are gators in our sewers and under our streets. They live behind closed doors, in dark and through the cracks. They're men. Plotting, ruthless, scheming men. Psychopaths and sociopaths and everything in between. And I've met a good few of them. Some of them are evil. They're terrible men that deserve to hang from a rope of their own sins. And others are good men in bad business. Good men that took a wrong turn.
There are alligators in my mind, too. They're eating me alive, from the inside out. They're in my head, in my brain, and no matter how nicely I ask, no matter how hard I try, they won't leave. They're with me day in and day out. They tell me things, like that it's my fault. It should've been me. I should be dead, not anyone else, and none of this would've - or could've - happened without my presence. They tell me I'm a bad man. I'm one of the alligators in the streets. But I'm not. And And they're not like the alligators in the streets, either. They're all bad, all good-for-nothing. The worst part is that there's nothing I can do about it. So I just accept them. They're here to stay, and they're my own fault. I deserve them. I accept them.
The worst part is, I was really starting fresh. Things were starting to look up in my life. Things were good. And then, suddenly, they weren't. For the first time in my life, everything was okay. I could really mean it when I woke up in the morning and say everything was no problem.
I came here to gain things, and now everything that I came here for is gone. I'd say I'm lucky to be alive. But the thing is, I'm not. I'd perhaps be better off dead, though I've lost the courage to go ahead and find out.
I came here to escape - my family, most of all, but much else, too. Myself, my mind, my past. I thought I had outrun it all, but as it turns out, I can't. No matter how far and how fast I run, I'm always two steps behind. I've only managed to dig myself deeper into a bottomless pit of hell that we call life.
You know that old urban legend about alligators in the sewers? Many an old man would tell me that back when I was a kid, and I never really believed them. I was a smart kid, too smart for my own good. (I still am.) I've learned that there are gators in our sewers and under our streets. They live behind closed doors, in dark and through the cracks. They're men. Plotting, ruthless, scheming men. Psychopaths and sociopaths and everything in between. And I've met a good few of them. Some of them are evil. They're terrible men that deserve to hang from a rope of their own sins. And others are good men in bad business. Good men that took a wrong turn.
There are alligators in my mind, too. They're eating me alive, from the inside out. They're in my head, in my brain, and no matter how nicely I ask, no matter how hard I try, they won't leave. They're with me day in and day out. They tell me things, like that it's my fault. It should've been me. I should be dead, not anyone else, and none of this would've - or could've - happened without my presence. They tell me I'm a bad man. I'm one of the alligators in the streets. But I'm not. And And they're not like the alligators in the streets, either. They're all bad, all good-for-nothing. The worst part is that there's nothing I can do about it. So I just accept them. They're here to stay, and they're my own fault. I deserve them. I accept them.
The worst part is, I was really starting fresh. Things were starting to look up in my life. Things were good. And then, suddenly, they weren't. For the first time in my life, everything was okay. I could really mean it when I woke up in the morning and say everything was no problem.
