A New Understanding

Once again I wake up cold. However, after seeing my phoenix rise from the ashes I know it is time for me to change. Looking around, for the first time, I realize how screwed up this stupid apartment is. I have clothes strewn across the floor and clothes filling laundry baskets to the brim because I have not been able to afford the basic dresser or any sort of shelving. With this new sort of vision, I am shocked at the filth I have been living in. How could I be such a disaster?? I used to be the epitome of youth. I used to be the one everyone looked up to! But... now I have fallen too low and must pick myself up.

After looking at this disaster of a place, I begin picking up the pieces of my life. I know it is time for me to move back to where I should be. For the first time since I have been here at Watershed Heights I step out into my hall and begin knocking on doors until I find someone who would have a box. When nobody answers, I run back to my room. Looking around, I think about where I should start. My clothes are the worst part of the filth. There is one pile at the end of my bed and I begin there. Little by little my pile of crap turns into a neat folded pile of life.

I finally sit back and look at my work. My clothes are folded. My torn, raggedy sheets are pulled up. Besides the dust and the cracks it looks decent. I find pride in what I have accomplished. It is the first thing I have managed to do in a very long time. I walk to the window and look down at the watch I have which surprisingly still ticks. Time has slipped away from me and my stomach grumbles from lack of food.

I wander down the stairs breathing in what I am dreaming to be clean fresh air. I follow my nose to the smell of roasted pork. I find myself in the gloomy darkness of the local Vietnamese restaurant. I can only see one other man through the darkness and he is shoveling down food like he has never eaten before. I sit down across from him and he does not even notice me. I try to ask him how his food is and what he is eating. I tell him I have never been to this restaurant before and I do not know what is good. He grunts back at me. The waiter walks up and asks me what I want and I merely tell him "I will have what he is eating."

My food arrives within a few minutes after I order. I begin eating and the taste of the roast pork dumplings is not what I expected. It has a sweetness that reminds me of an old desert my mom used to make. As soon as I get used to the flavours, the man across from me jumped up and ran out of the restaurant. All I could do was watch as he ran out and fled whatever he was scared of.

Not long after he left, I began to feel a pressure. A sense of being watched and a slight paranoia. I gingerly finished my meal. The sweetness still felt like a shock in my mouth. I paid. I walked out thinking I finally understood.