“Sometimes I feel so happy, sometimes I feel so sad. Sometimes I feel so happy, but mostly you just make me mad. Baby you just make me mad.”

The song’s sparse instrumentation played steadily under Lou Reed’s vocals, bringing me a quiet comfort. His voice, rough like sandpaper yet a soft and delicate coo, wrung into my ears and disseminated throughout my body. The song was slow and soft with a rough and wild undertone. I stood in my room, feet rooted to the floor, staring at myself in the mirror. I’ve had this same mirror since we first moved to this apartment, when I was eight, so it was too short for me now. I moved the mirror up the back of my closet door so it would reflect my body stretching from head to knees, as opposed to chest to feet. I stared at myself for a minute, my green eyes reflecting back at me like a scared kitten, my gaze piercing and pleading. Lost. I had never really done this before… observed myself, that is. I spent most of my life observing others so I’ve never really taken the time to look at myself as if I were another person. What do people think of me when they see me on the street, without any context or knowledge of my life? Do they think I’m confident or shy? Handsome or ugly? Smart or stupid? Caring or selfish? I suppose you can’t really tell that from a fleeting encounter… but maybe you can. We do it every day; we judge others based on our first visual impressions of them, regardless of their current circumstances. We gather an impression of them in our minds; we make up a back story, who their family is, where they work, what their problems are, what makes them happy…we do this mostly subconsciously, but as humans it is our nature. We are terrified of the unknown. I stood there staring at myself with dissatisfaction. My auburn hair stuck up stubbornly atop my scalp. My ears felt too big, my nose too pointy. I wish I had a nose like my Dad’s. He had a great nose… not too big, not too small. But I have my Mom’s nose. The only piece of my Dad that I have is my eyes. I let my gaze travel downwards to my body. My limbs protruded from my torso as if they had been screwed on the wrong way. The Kooks stared back at me from my grey t-shirt, my jeans clung to my skinny legs like glue. I used to have freckles when I was younger, but it’s almost as if they have melted into my skin; my skin is now pale and clear like a piece of soap that’s at the end of its days. I think my freckles disappeared because I don’t go outside much, now.
New York City has lost its appeal to me; a city that I once breathed and lived, I can’t relate to anymore. Living in New York is kind of like being an animal in a stampede; there’s always a chance that I could fall and be flattened, but it feels so exhilarating to be part of it all. Right now, though, I feel like that animal at the back of a stampede; that lonesome gazelle falling behind the pack, heels barely out of reach of the inexorable wildfire that will soon envelop its body… maybe I spent too much time worrying and thinking; maybe I should learn to turn off my brain and operate on autopilot. Life would be easier that way.
I turned off the lights and slowly began to feel more confident in my own body. My small bedroom was transformed into a galaxy from outer space, its blue walls became nebulous boundaries in the darkness. With the lights off I’m under lock and key. Safe. Dark. Invisible. I lay down on my bed and closed my eyes, letting my body melt into the sheets, the darkness’ warm fingers enveloping me. I breathed, for what felt like the first time in months. Inhale and exhale, in and out. I felt the music funnel into my ears and suffuse into my soul… I took off my shirt…. then my shoes… socks…. pants… finally my underwear was off, all of my clothes strewn about on the floor. I felt free. I was free to breathe, to be. I felt a sudden urge to disappear… for my body to assimilate into the air, into the earth… I stretched my arms out behind my head. My toes stretched over the edge of the bed; my body was skinny and fragile. And yet here, now, in this place, it didn’t matter. Is this what dying feels like? I thought, then it’s not so bad. Maybe dying isn’t so bad. Then the questions that had been torturing my mind for the past two years came back once again. Did he feel anything? Did it hurt? What was it like for him? Did he feel the crash or did it all just go black? My body seemed to disappear into nothingness, my feet didn’t feel like my own, I couldn’t feel my hands. I breathed again and again, letting the darkness warm me with its gentle touch. My limbs felt like individual entities, each part of its own being, separate from my body. My face felt as though it had been peeled away and lifted off. Never had I felt so calm, never had I felt so alone. I continued to breathe… calmly, deliberately, letting my mind fall out of focus. The music began to drift away, and all that was left was the course static of my memory…
A sudden flash of light, followed by a shrill scream broke my trace.
“What the-“ I sat up instantaneously, and automatically covered my eyes with the backs of my hands. After a moment my eyes adjusted to the light and I was confronted with my sister, Alana. She stood in the doorframe, her mouth agape, an expression of horror written on her face.
“WHAT THE HELL!!!!!!!!” Alana shrieked in such a high-pitched voice that I was concerned the window’s glass would shatter.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” I shouted back automatically, feeling the back of my neck tingle with embarrassment, as my ears began to turn a deep crimson.
‘WHY ARE YOU NAKED???” she screeched at me.
“WHY ARE YOU IN MY ROOM?!” I hollered back defensively,
“I was just returning your stapler!!”
“Why didn’t you knock?!?”
“Well I didn’t exactly think you would be lying on your bed, in the dark, NAKED”
“I’m sorry, I-“ I paused. I didn’t really know what to say, how to explain to her what I was doing, partially because I didn’t know what I was doing myself.
“Max you are so weird” she said before I could summon an explanation, and with that, slammed the door behind her. As Alana’s footsteps receded down the hallway, I let out a long grown and flopped down on my bed, crippled with embarrassment. Oh my God. It wasn’t even like I was doing anything, but this seemed to be worse. I ran my fingers through my hair, causing it to stand even more end, and sheepishly began to pick the clothes up off my floor and put them back on.
Knock, knock, knock.
“It’s me” Alana’s voice came through the door.
“Okay” I said, “come in”
“Can I come in?”
“I just said come in”
“Are you dressed?”
I sighed, “Yes, I’m dressed”
“Are you sure?”
I groaned, “Alana stop. What do you want?”
My sister opened the door slowly, her long brown hair peeking around the corner.
“I’m going out”, she said in a voice that was a little too confident, I thought.
“Where are you going?”
“None of your business”
“Well Mom’s not here so I’m in charge”, I said, and stood up a little taller.
Alana snickered, “You’re not an adult”
“I’m eighteen in a month, you’re only sixteen”.
“Whatever. I’m going to Eric’s” She paused, then opened the door a little more, revealing a sheepish expression. “Don’t tell Mom, okay?”
I rolled my eyes, “Fine”
She smiled at me, “thanks”. Alana paused for a moment and looked at me, her similarly green eyes boring into mine, an expression of pity mingled with concern on her face. “Do you have any plans?”
“Yes”, I said quickly, “I’m going to a party”.
“Oh! Cool” Alana smiled, her concern clearly alleviated, and shut the door.
That was a lie. I’m not going to a party tonight, but I can’t disappoint Alana… not after all she’s been through. I’m happy that she’s doing well. It’s easier for her to show her emotions, I think. People don’t question it as much. When Dad… well, when he died, it was easier for her to cry. And she was able to get it all out. I wasn’t.
I remember when my family used to go to the movies together. I pretended to hate it, but I secretly loved it. Now I miss it more than anything. What I would give for one night at the movies with my entire family… with my Dad. My Mom would insist on asking questions to things that only the writer or somebody who’s seen the movie before could know the answer to, like “what’s about to happen?” or “does her character come back in the end?” My sister Alana would insist on talking about different things during the course of the movie. Apparently, she thinks that I paid $12.50 to hear a story about the party she went to last weekend. My Dad knew how to really watch a movie, though. While my Mom was too busy living in the future and my sister was too busy living in the past, my Dad and I lived in the present. We let ourselves be enveloped by the film and swept away on a journey. I always used to sit next to my Dad so I could cry if I needed to, and it would be okay because he would cry too. Maybe tonight I should go see a movie. It won’t be the same, of course, without him, but I haven’t been since he died so maybe it would be a good thing to do. It could be like an homage of sorts. To my Father. Maybe I could finally obtain some sort of closure after the past two years.

So, I waited for Alana to leave the house, then I followed suit. I wrote my Mom a quick note explaining that I had left the house and would be back later tonight. I tried to remember where she said she would be tonight… probably at a business dinner or out on a date with Robert. Robert is her boyfriend, and I don’t like him much. Not that I’ve made any real effort to get to know him, or to try to like him, but what do you expect? He’s my Mom’s boyfriend. He’s trying to take the place of my Dad. They met at Deutsche Bank last year, where they both work, and he finally worked up the courage to ask her out about six months ago. To be honest, I think she’s kept him around due to loneliness as opposed to love. She’s certainly more attractive than he is. I guess he could be more attractive if he wore clothes that didn’t make him look as though he were from the 18th century. Thinking of my Mom and Robert having sex makes me want to throw up an infinite number of times. Maybe they don’t have sex. I can’t really picture Robert having sex, with anyone, let alone my Mother, though I wanted to picture it just about as much as I wanted to go skydiving.
It was 7:30; if I walked down to the theatre I could catch the 8:30 showing. I set out at a leisurely pace, letting the slight breeze caress my cheeks. As the night got darker, the cool air bit my ears as I walked; it was dark and cold. The garish lights flashed in the dark night, blinding me. The air was suffocating and hot, the buildings bared down on me ominously in the dusky light. I felt like a fly trapped in molasses, helpless in the city’s depths. The city has trapped me inside its claws, ready to eat me alive and leave the vultures to pick over my remaining flesh. I am hollow. Alone. Frightened… void of life and love, of wonder and curiosity. I am bored, bored with the world as it is. I’ve thought about it before… you know, death. Dying. I’ve thought about what it would be like. Not the physical act, but what it would be like after it happened… after I died. Not to me, although I suppose that would be interesting to think about too, but to the world around me. I’ve come to the conclusion that nothing would happen. That everyone would carry on with their lives and the world would keep turning. If I died, it would be as if I was never even alive. I don’t know how much further I can keep going. I don’t know for how much longer I can keep this up. I feel as if I am living in a dream… everyone around me is asleep. I am sick of living but not being alive.


“Next in line”
I stepped up to the front of the line. “Hi, one ticket for The Artist, please”
“How many tickets?” The woman at the ticket booth had her hair up in a messy bun, strands protruding this way and that, a large amount still left on the nape of her neck. She pursed her lips studying her fingernails. I imagine they are very interesting to look at.
“Just one”, I repeated, confidently. I wouldn’t let this woman get in the way of my evening.
The woman diverted her attention from her nails and turned to face me curiously. “If you buy two you can get a discount”, she said.
“Really I’ll just need the one”, I replied stiffly this time. What? Had someone never asked for one ticket before?!
“Okay”, she said and shrugged. What was it to her if I wanted to be alone.
I accepted my single ticket gruffly and headed into the theatre. It was about one-fifth full, most people situated in the middle rows, the others scattered throughout. I chose a seat in the second-to-last row.
“Mind if I sit here?” I looked up to find the source of the deep voice. I could just make out his figure in the darkness; he looked about the same age as my Dad would be. It was slightly creepy that he wanted to sit next to me given there were about fifty other seats that were open in the theatre, but there was nothing I could do but oblige, so I nodded slightly.
“What movie is this?” the man said, his head tilted towards my body. His breath reeked of alcohol.
“Um The Artist” I said, leaning away slightly.
The man let out a bark of laughter, though I could not figure out in the slightest how the title “The Artist” was funny.
“Some Hollywood bullshit huh?” He said and laughed again. I couldn’t help but notice that his laugh was similar to my Dad’s.
“I guess you could say that”, I said, “but it’s supposed to be really good actually”
“What’s your name kid?”
“Um Max”
“I’m Greg” the man said, and stuck out his hand, which I reluctantly shook.
“Are you alone?” He queried.
“Aren’t you?” I replied.
He chuckled. “In more ways than one”
“I suppose I am too”, I said. I didn’t know why I was telling him this, but I guess even though I was looking forward to being alone it was nice to talk to someone, especially if he’s too drunk to remember that I exist.
Finally, the film started. I sighed and stretched my neck out to the left then the right. Now it’s my time to relax. After a couple of minutes I realized that the man was doubled over his seat; at first I thought that he was looking for something… but then he let out an unpleasant choking noise and I realized he was throwing up. For a minute I contemplated slipping out of the row, in which no one else sat, finding another empty seat and watching the movie in peace, but my conscience took hold. I couldn’t just let this man vomit all over himself and pass out in the movie theatre alone. So as soon as he came up for air, I tugged at his waist and guided him out of his seat. The man was a good fifty pounds heavier than I was, and with my slight build, it was a challenge to support his weight. His chin pressed against my shoulder, digging into the bone uncomfortably. I cursed myself for wasting my night on a drunk stranger, but steadfastly escorted him to the door all the same. I knew that the movie must be getting good because I didn’t see a single person turn their head as we made our odd trek out of the theatre. Once the theatre’s doors closed behind us, I pushed the man off of me and rested my hands on my knees, catching my breath. Maybe I’d start weight lifting this summer… I heard the man cough again and feared the worst, but to my relief, nothing came out. He sat himself down on a bench and I followed suit. The hallway was quiet aside from the intermittent ‘ping”s of the concession stand employee’s phone. Once we were in the light I could get a better look at the man’s face. He wasn’t as old as I’d originally thought; he looked about forty-five but his hair was graying and his face unshaven. I surveyed his body and features and thought that he could be very good looking if he took care of himself. We sat in silence for a minute. Finally, the man spoke.
“I’m so sorry, man” He said, “how can I make this up to you?”
“Well, to be honest you’re probably never going to see me again” I said.
The man looked at me for a moment, confusion playing out on his face, registering what I’d said. I sighed, “look if you really want I’ll give you my email or something and you can buy me a movie ticket sometime since… well since I didn’t really get to watch this one”
The man laughed, “sure, kid” He said.
I fished around in my pockets for a pen. I wrote ‘[email protected]’ on the back of my movie ticket. “Here” I said and put it on his knee.
“Look”, I said, “can you get home-“
“I’ll be fine”. The man interjected, “Thanks Tex”
I smiled, “Max”, I corrected.
“Oh”, he said, and ruffled his hands through his thick, greasy hair.
“Take care…” I said quietly, and then walked swiftly away, out of the theatre.
Though I knew that there was no way the man would remember to email me, some small part of me hoped that he would.


It had been four days since my trip to the movies, and the man had not emailed me yet. Not that I was surprised, I mean, he was drunk out of his mind and he didn’t know me at all, but I couldn’t help feeling a little bit disappointed. I’m not even sure why I wanted this strange man in my life, but I knew that I did. I clicked the refresh button on my computer for the billionth time, though it was to no avail. My mailbox stared back at me with no new messages. I stared at my computer screen with a slight sense of disillusionment.
“Hello” A deep voice caught me by surprise. I looked up to find Robert, poking his head into my room, flashing a cautious grin at me. He was the last person I wanted to see right now.
“Hi”, I said gruffly and raised my eyebrows at him. “Are you, uh, looking for my Mom?”
“Oh, no she’s not here.”
“Where is she?” I said, feeling annoyed that Robert knew of my Mother’s whereabouts better than I.
“At the office”, Robert said. “May I come in?”
“I’m a little busy now, Robert” I replied testily, and directly my attention back to my computer screen, though I was really not doing anything of importance.
“Oh sorry” he said in an apologetic tone “should I come back later, or…”
I sighed out of annoyance, as if he was interrupting me in the middle of an important meeting. “Fine come in”, I said, and shut my computer. I enjoyed the power I held over Robert; ever since my Dad died, people have felt cautious around me as if I were a bomb ready to detonate. At first it annoyed me, how people constantly tiptoed around me, but I’ve learned to wield the power it gave me to my benefit. It worked especially well on Robert, since he was in a particularly tricky position, dating my Mom.
Robert entered my room, his hair looked stupid in a comb over, though I found myself somewhat pleased that it looked as if it was greyer than usual.
He was wearing his usual blue pinstripe suit with a garish red tie. Robert stood awkwardly in my room, shuffling his shiny shoes around, waiting for me to offer him a seat. I purposefully watched him with narrowed eyes and did nothing to relieve him of the awkwardness. I knew I was being harsh on Robert, but I didn’t really care. After a few minutes, he chose to half-sit, half-stand on the edge of my bed.
“I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner with me tonight. Your mom isn’t going to be here and I don’t have any plans and so I thought I could spend some time with you” Robert said, studying me carefully.
“Why?” I asked, an element of repulsion apparent in my tone.
He cleared his throat and spoke slowly. “Well, I am um, kind of like a Father figure…” I pursed my lips and made a clucking sound with my tongue. Robert seemed to sense that he had entered dangerous territory with the “father” remark and hastily corrected himself “Well, that is, I thought this could be a good opportunity for us to catch up”. I let out an audible snort. Robert saying that he wanted to “catch up” with me sounded almost as ridiculous as the Queen of England saying she wanted to pop, lock and drop it.
I watched with amusement as his cheeks began to turn a peachy-red. “I mean you don’t have to, I just-” “Fine” I interjected, seizing control of the situation. “Let’s go to Shake Shack”. Both he and I knew that I had the upper hand in our relationship. I was a loose cannon. I could go off anytime. He had no control over me. If Robert wanted to play a game, we could play a game. And I could play it all day.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
Robert sat across me at the table; he looked ridiculously overdressed in his pristine suit and tie combo, his dark hair in a delicate and neat comb over. I had a sudden urge to ruffle his hair with my hand and smear ketchup on his face, but I restrained myself and just stared at him with a pseudo-smile on my face. He assessed his burger with the utmost caution as if it were a crying baby. I almost felt pity for the man. I bit into my burger and licked ketchup off of my fingers. “You better eat it before it eats you” I said, smiling sardonically at his prudish and uncomfortable manner. He looked at me with distaste lingering on his face. “Look, Max”, Robert said and put the burger back down on the plate. “The real reason I wanted to take you out to dinner tonight is because I’m concerned about you” Robert was concerned about me? I did a double take and looked at his face to check if this was the same man who had showed literally no emotion towards me over the past year he had, unfortunately, been part of my life. “Why?” I said, eyeballing him suspiciously. What did he want from me? Obviously there must be some underlying reason behind this aside from compassion because Robert had shown as much compassion towards me in the past year as a rock. He cleared his throat. “I heard there was a little trouble at school” Trouble? What trouble? How had he heard about this ‘trouble’ that did not exist. “No”, I replied defiantly and finished off the last of my burger.
“Well we received a call from your teacher who said that you have been very ‘reclusive’ lately” I paused, slowly becoming more aware of my body and surroundings. Robert’s words seared through my brain like needles; my mind was still, numb. The other people in the restaurant seemed to disappear and all I heard was his words. My silence forced him to continue. “Your Mother called me about this and we agreed that maybe if you and I talked, we could come up with a solution”
I willed myself to stay on task and not let this man dominate me. “You mean my Mother”, I corrected.
“What?” he said.
“You said ‘we’, but you mean my Mother.”
“Oh”, he said, thinking it through. Then he sighed and continued.
“Max, from what I’ve observed, you sit alone in your room all day, you’re disengaged at school, according to your teacher, you push your family away, and you don’t really… well, you don’t really seem to have any friends”. He said the last part quickly, knowing that at any minute I could explode. “Is this about your Father? Do you need someone to talk to about it, a therapist or something? Look, Max, I know that you don’t like me. You’ve made that pretty clear. But I’m here to help.”
I let his words wash over me like a salty wave, stinging my reopening wounds. Thinking quickly, and willing my tears to stay hidden, I leaned in over the table and pulled my face right up to Robert’s. “Well in that case let me make it even clearer, Robert” I whispered in a deadly tone, putting an inordinate emphasis on the ‘t’. “You are not part of my life, and you never will be. You are nothing like my Father. I know that my Mother is still with you not because she likes you, but because she is lonely and you are another human being. Don’t kid yourself into thinking that she’s spending her time with you because she likes you. There is nothing to like.” I paused, feeling the adrenaline surge through my body. “If you propose to my Mother and attempt to tear this family apart even further, you will have me to deal with” I stood up, my nostrils flaring. Robert looked pathetic as he struggled for words. I leaned in one last time, resisting the urge to spit on his stupid face. “Now leave me the f*** alone”. I walked swiftly away from the table and out of the restaurant, without a backward glance.
My augmented anger was not directed towards him, but towards myself; a hate that I have held inside of me for so long, that has been brewing inside of my chest like a dormant volcano, finally erupted. I was overcome by a burning in my chest; I knew that Robert was right. I was pathetic. I was alone, and tired of being alone. Hot tears spilled out of my eye sockets like fiery lava. I could leave this city and no one would notice. I could die and no one would care. I feel as though the world is closing in around me. This city used to make me feel alive, but now it made me feel dead. My Dad used to say that I was a King and the city was my castle, he used to make me feel alive. But now I am a ghost, a phantom, lost and unknown to all. I hated myself for being alone. My Father would have wanted me to live. He would want me to be happy and to embrace the city. I looked up at the night sky that shone with the glimmer of the city lights. I closed my eyes and let myself inhale and exhale, in and out. I walked onwards, across the avenues and down the streets. I just wanted to go away from it all and leave it all behind. As I walked, the pain and hate inside of me began to dissolve. The air was humid but it didn’t seem to suffocate me now; instead, it caressed me with its warmth. The city’s lights beckoned me like long lost friends, urging me onwards. I felt part of it all: the cars, the lights, the horns, the noise, the clutter, the garbage. With each step I took, I felt lighter, freer. Step after step, I forgot myself and all I felt was the vibrancy of the city. My senses were alive; my brain had been awakened from its slumber, my heartbeat was louder than the world. The night air was my friend, my guiding spirit. I let the tears run freely, now. There was no point hiding them, from myself or from the world. I felt empowered, enlightened, ensconced in the city’s arms. I was okay. I was going to be okay. I was able to breathe- FINALLY. Just breathe. The same sensation that I felt before when I lay naked on my bed washed over me, but this time I didn’t feel like dying, I felt like LIVING. Emotion coursed through my veins; I wasn’t angry anymore, I was passionate! I wanted to SHOUT OUT. To SCREAM! I wanted to jump up and down until my feet blistered in protest! The sidewalks, the city’s skin, crawled with under my shoes, urging them onward. I walked faster and faster until I broke into a run, my feet flying over the pavement. The people I passed were blurred, as if they were out of a low quality photograph. I didn’t care what they thought anymore- I was part of the city now. I felt high, higher than the Empire State Building, higher than the Earth, higher than the sun, the sidewalks and the sea, the fumes and the breeze. I had come out of my own skin and become an element of this city. I was hurdling over dog s*** and stray paper bags, over hardened gum and forgotten pennies… I was free. After all those times I felt like dying, now I was alive. I was free from myself, free from my body, free from my hate. I knew it wasn’t over, I knew that this would be a fight, a battle. But for now, I was alive. I was okay. Right now, in this moment, I didn’t have to think about anything. I could just be. At last, I was alive and I was FREE. And with each step I took, I knew that the city was mine once again.