The Hole In My Heart
When the state of Texas closed down Camp Green Lake, it had been like a blessing from heaven. After 5 months of doing nothing but digging five foot holes every day under the blistering sun, all I wanted to do was lay down in my own bed and get a good night's sleep. But that would never happen. I wasn't meant to have a good life. I have the worst luck. From the moment I got to the police station, and saw that my mom wasn't there waiting for me, I knew that my life hadn't changed at all. I knew that things could still get worse. I knew that they would. Because they always did.
The fact was, Camp Green Lake had not only been my temporary prison, but also my temporary home. I made friends like none I had ever had before. I was at least a little bit respected for who I was there. I was being honest to myself when I was there. But not honest enough. I still told myself that I wasn't supposed to be there. I still knew that I was getting punished for what I did. I still knew that I would carry that burden wherever I went. I decided, however, that I didn't care. I wouldn't be there forever, so I might as well make the best of it that I could.
Then Stanley came along, and he was my breaking point. His love for life, his thirst to keep going, his strength to save Zero, they all made me break. After Zero and him left, I felt empty inside, and I wanted to go home. Imagine my surprise when two weeks later the state of Texas closed down Camp Green Lake! It was perfect timing. I was so happy to be going home, I figured I could start all over again. I had Stanley tell my mom that I was sorry, and I hoped she had forgiven me. Things would be great. But, as I said, I wasn't meant to have a good life. When I got home, I realized that there was only one place that I would ever truly be happy. One place that I could ever be truly myself. One place that I wanted to remain forever. And that place wasn't at Camp Green Lake, and it wasn't at home, either. That place was far, far away, in the city of Austin. And there was no way I could ever go there again. It was in that city, nearly a hundred miles away from my home, San Antonio, that I was arrested. It was in that city that I grew up. It was in that city that I learned the lessons of a lifetime, and it was in that city that I received this hole in my heart.
Home, for other kids, was a place of refuge. A place where they could come home everyday after school and play video games, or watch TV, or just sit around and do nothing. Home for me, however, was nothing of the sort. Home was a prison to me, a prison even worse than the real one or Camp Green Lake ever was.
When I was home, I was faced with the torments of my parents. Most of the time they only yelled at each other, which was bad enough, but sometimes they would yell at me, as well, and when that happened, let's just say I would have rather been in prison than there.
On most nights of the week, my mom would get drunk, and pick a fight with my dad about something. One night it was food, another it was about the laundry; the subjects changed daily. But every night it was the same. She would start yelling at Dad and then he would yell back and no matter the origin of the argument, it always ended up the same way. My mom would scream that she did everything around the house, and Dad would contradict her. Finally, Dad would leave in a huff, go to the bar for a couple of hours, then come back and apologize to Mom. She would forgive him, and nothing would ever get solved. That was a nightly routine.
One day, though, my dad didn't come back from the bar. Every time he left I stayed up and waited for him, because I was afraid that he wouldn't come back, and one night I stayed up all night, and he didn't come back. That was the worst day of my life.
After that, my mother started drinking even more, and even worse, she started dating. The guys she brought home were not exactly my favorite types of people. Most were druggies, or alcoholics at the very least. I hated being at home, and started trying to find ways of staying out late. I didn't really have friends at school, because since my mom barely went to work, I was very poor and didn't dress like everyone else. The friends I did manage to make weren't all the great of people. I did manage to make one good friend, though.
Aaron was the same age as me, and was very much like me in a lot of ways. He had dark brown shoulder-length hair and brown eyes. He was much richer than I was, but he didn't show it. When my mom started dating, him and I would go places and do things together, such as go to the movies, or sometimes bowling, and once we actually stayed at the high school until about ten o'clock.
On the weekends I spent everyday at his house, much to the dismay of his parents, since we blasted our rock music very loudly on most occasions. We both had problems, and sometimes we did pretend counseling sessions where we tried to help each other out. This rarely occurred, however. Most of our time together was spent trying to forget we had problems.
Aaron, unlike me, was obsessed with Japanese anime. He had various posters of such shows as 'Vampire Slayer X' and 'Tenchi Muyo!' in his room. Sometimes he would make me watch old shows with him, which would bore me to death, but I would get back at him, by making him watch my favorite movie of all time, The Lost Boys. Aaron hated horror movies, but I loved them. I loved watching gory things, I thought it was funny.
But no matter how many differences we had, he was still the only person I met that was even remotely like me. But that was before I met Charlie. That was before we ran away. That was before Austin. That was before my life went down the drain for good.
When the state of Texas closed down Camp Green Lake, it had been like a blessing from heaven. After 5 months of doing nothing but digging five foot holes every day under the blistering sun, all I wanted to do was lay down in my own bed and get a good night's sleep. But that would never happen. I wasn't meant to have a good life. I have the worst luck. From the moment I got to the police station, and saw that my mom wasn't there waiting for me, I knew that my life hadn't changed at all. I knew that things could still get worse. I knew that they would. Because they always did.
The fact was, Camp Green Lake had not only been my temporary prison, but also my temporary home. I made friends like none I had ever had before. I was at least a little bit respected for who I was there. I was being honest to myself when I was there. But not honest enough. I still told myself that I wasn't supposed to be there. I still knew that I was getting punished for what I did. I still knew that I would carry that burden wherever I went. I decided, however, that I didn't care. I wouldn't be there forever, so I might as well make the best of it that I could.
Then Stanley came along, and he was my breaking point. His love for life, his thirst to keep going, his strength to save Zero, they all made me break. After Zero and him left, I felt empty inside, and I wanted to go home. Imagine my surprise when two weeks later the state of Texas closed down Camp Green Lake! It was perfect timing. I was so happy to be going home, I figured I could start all over again. I had Stanley tell my mom that I was sorry, and I hoped she had forgiven me. Things would be great. But, as I said, I wasn't meant to have a good life. When I got home, I realized that there was only one place that I would ever truly be happy. One place that I could ever be truly myself. One place that I wanted to remain forever. And that place wasn't at Camp Green Lake, and it wasn't at home, either. That place was far, far away, in the city of Austin. And there was no way I could ever go there again. It was in that city, nearly a hundred miles away from my home, San Antonio, that I was arrested. It was in that city that I grew up. It was in that city that I learned the lessons of a lifetime, and it was in that city that I received this hole in my heart.
Home, for other kids, was a place of refuge. A place where they could come home everyday after school and play video games, or watch TV, or just sit around and do nothing. Home for me, however, was nothing of the sort. Home was a prison to me, a prison even worse than the real one or Camp Green Lake ever was.
When I was home, I was faced with the torments of my parents. Most of the time they only yelled at each other, which was bad enough, but sometimes they would yell at me, as well, and when that happened, let's just say I would have rather been in prison than there.
On most nights of the week, my mom would get drunk, and pick a fight with my dad about something. One night it was food, another it was about the laundry; the subjects changed daily. But every night it was the same. She would start yelling at Dad and then he would yell back and no matter the origin of the argument, it always ended up the same way. My mom would scream that she did everything around the house, and Dad would contradict her. Finally, Dad would leave in a huff, go to the bar for a couple of hours, then come back and apologize to Mom. She would forgive him, and nothing would ever get solved. That was a nightly routine.
One day, though, my dad didn't come back from the bar. Every time he left I stayed up and waited for him, because I was afraid that he wouldn't come back, and one night I stayed up all night, and he didn't come back. That was the worst day of my life.
After that, my mother started drinking even more, and even worse, she started dating. The guys she brought home were not exactly my favorite types of people. Most were druggies, or alcoholics at the very least. I hated being at home, and started trying to find ways of staying out late. I didn't really have friends at school, because since my mom barely went to work, I was very poor and didn't dress like everyone else. The friends I did manage to make weren't all the great of people. I did manage to make one good friend, though.
Aaron was the same age as me, and was very much like me in a lot of ways. He had dark brown shoulder-length hair and brown eyes. He was much richer than I was, but he didn't show it. When my mom started dating, him and I would go places and do things together, such as go to the movies, or sometimes bowling, and once we actually stayed at the high school until about ten o'clock.
On the weekends I spent everyday at his house, much to the dismay of his parents, since we blasted our rock music very loudly on most occasions. We both had problems, and sometimes we did pretend counseling sessions where we tried to help each other out. This rarely occurred, however. Most of our time together was spent trying to forget we had problems.
Aaron, unlike me, was obsessed with Japanese anime. He had various posters of such shows as 'Vampire Slayer X' and 'Tenchi Muyo!' in his room. Sometimes he would make me watch old shows with him, which would bore me to death, but I would get back at him, by making him watch my favorite movie of all time, The Lost Boys. Aaron hated horror movies, but I loved them. I loved watching gory things, I thought it was funny.
But no matter how many differences we had, he was still the only person I met that was even remotely like me. But that was before I met Charlie. That was before we ran away. That was before Austin. That was before my life went down the drain for good.