Page 55 of The Breaking Pointe
“Don’t apologize to me. You wanna vent, then vent,” he says.My hands drop, resting my elbows on my legs as I hang my head.
“How does one find peace?”I ask him, hearing the weariness in my own voice.
Iwasn’texpectinghimtohaveananswer.Iguessit’s a rhetorical question.But I wish there was an answer. Everything feels so loud sometimes. The volume is slowly turning up as time goes on. Finally, it reaches its maximum capacity, and then everything feels too overwhelming to handle.
“I think you have to make it for yourself, bro. Nobody can do it for you,” Trey chimes into the conversation again.
Wandering my eyes to him, my head follows as I fully look at him.
“I’m not happy, Trey.I’m tired.Not physically, but… mentally. I feel like I’m losing everything. I can’t seem to keep anything good in my life.It never stays, or sticks,” I lament.“My mom is sick—I have no idea what to do with Steven.He’s not even processing it, I don’t think,” I add, pausing.
“And neither am I. Go figure.I’m being hypocritical to him.I’m just not good at this shit, Trey.Ifeel like I’m a lost
kid. I have everything and nothing all at the same time.” Treysighs.“Look,Colton.That’swhereyou’resowrong.
Okay—it’s not about having everything or everyone.Or anyone,” he gloats, firmly shaking my shoulder.
“It’s about having yourself, brother.As soon as you realize that part,” he stands up, looking down at me now, “you will be fine. I promise.” He smiles.
I sigh, looking down before standing up. “Yeah. Sure.” I nod, still feeling defeated even though he made his point.
He is right, in a way.It’s just that I have felt alone so much recently, I’m starting to find words of comfort to be not as strong. But it’s different, knowing that he means what he says. “Now c’mon. You wanna get to work, or what? Let’s get it!”He laughs, holding his fists up, squaring up with me, even bouncing a little.
Giving a half-suppressed laugh, I quickly get into my stance, holding my fists up, too, as we make our way back to the bag.I have myself, but having myself doesn’t feellike enough.Not to me.To everyone else, I’m tough, or I have a good head on my shoulders. I’m not strong in other departments. In the departments that matter, I’m sensitive, insecure, and confused about a lot of things.My outsides don’t mean anything when everything around me is dying or leaving me hanging. Or when I have to pretend to continue to be someone I’m never gonna be okay with.
I’ve lived with a lot of guilt for leaving Steven behind with my mom. Sure, I take care of them however I can. But they each could have a better life.It wasn’t always happy forus. Mostly for my mom and me. I’m grateful to have made Steven’s path to adulthood nicer than mine was. It wasn’t really until I started working with Trey that things changed.
Before that, I was just like anyone else.Or so I felt.I just didn’t get along with people.They didn’t like me.I wastoo smart, or too fat, or weird.The stereotypical bullying archetypes.
At home, I could be comfortable, but only for so long. My dad would have a drink.Then my mom.Then they would fight.Then it was my fault, and my mom was fighting to protect me. Next thing you know, he had violated her, and she’d go on pretending nothing happened the next day. She claimed she didn’t remember.
When I was old enough to get out, I left without the remorse I now hold onto.I was angry, desperate to get away. But by that time, my dad was already gone. I wouldn’t have left if it weren’t for him.I could never stay in that house after he did all those things.It’s why I bought my mother a new one and crushed the old one. It’s haunted me in a way that’s life altering. I don’t think we’ll ever know the exact time it started to eat at me, but I know that when I watched him put that gun to his head, I wasn’t going to be normal anymore.
I was coming home from school at thirteen. Just about to finish middle school.
I remember I had just gotten braces, and I couldn’t stand the pain.I needed some kind of relief, and I knew one of my parents would have an answer.My mom was at work, but Dad? He didn’t do that. So, he had been at home for the regular work hours of the day.That meant that he was in his office. Pretending to be the big wig that he once was. He would sit and re-watch his matches from his fighting days. Reminiscing and drinking. Never doing anything with his lifethatyoucouldlookbackonandfeelaccomplishedabout.
I wanted to ask him where the medicine was. This stupid numbing gel that was supposed to make it better that had been prescribed.The year was 2007, so they were doing anythingcrazytohelpwiththepain.Itwasthatorforce a few over-the-counter pain pills down.And any pill that came through our front door never lasted more than two or three days.My mom’s way around that was buying anything but pill form or drowsy supplements.So you could speculate that being sick in our house was a living hell to endure.
The house was really quiet that day.When my mom wasn’t home with Steven yet, there were some days I would hang out with my dad until they’d get there. That day, I had the normal plan. I came straight inside and walked around the house, calling around for my father before I noticed his office door was closed. At first, I gathered that it could’ve meant he was doing something that I had no business witnessing. I was frightened, thinking of how I would’ve had to explain that to my mom. Thinking about that, I stood outside of the door for what still seemed like it could’ve been hours, butit wasn’t. I wanted to see if I could hear him, but all I could hear was his television playing some tape.
After I contemplated enough, that’s when I decided I would be strong and open the door.Subjecting myself to my very own horror movie.
Trey’s way of thinking sounds morally correct. I thought about it all the way home, justifying what excuse I could think of to disagree, but I can’t discredit his opinion when it’s that genuine and true.Yet it’s hard to make yourself funnel your thinking enough to abide by a mindset like that when you’re juggling billions of issues. It reminds me that he’s my manager for a reason.I feel guilty being bigger than
a handful, but I don’t want to confide in anyone else. I have trouble even with my therapist—who also says I should try to work on expressing myself better for the sake of defending myself in my relationships. It wasn’t in those words, but she toyed with my brain until I understood it as such.
I think I want to be with someone, just as much as I want to feel better because I’m tired of being alone. I’m possibly stuck in the moment with Noelle, but I felt something before the sex.A very different and fanatical feeling, leaving me with the agony of a cliffhanger. It’s already been almost two weeks of me fighting the urge to call her or text her any more than I have. I’m never one to give up on something I want. But she isn’t just something. She’s much more—and they say that if it’s meant to be, it will be.
So,that’swhatIkeeptellingmyself.
* * *
After my shower,I made sure to feed Bonnie,and then myself.I made a sandwich and got a bottle of water from the fridge.Usually, when I’m off and I’m awake like this, I’m doing some form of artwork.This time, for once, I’d rather not look at a sculpture or a drawing for at least one day. Television doesn’t seem close to being tempting, either. Sitting on the couch, I pick up the remote and turn it on, anyway.I start flicking through channels, getting to TBS to see Chandler Bing and Monica Geller squabbling across the screen. Sticking with that, I take a bite of my sandwich, grabbing myphone.I had a few notifications, but none of dire importance.Not even one.My mom texted me about dinnerthisweek,whichIalreadyknewabout,followedby
a loving message that I wasn’t ready to get myself into— and the other being Steven requesting money on Apple Pay. There is a shit ton of social media notifications.Those matter the least. It’s either hate or creeps.
Unlocking the phone, I go to my messages and then navigate to Noelle’s contact, tapping it to open our messages. It sucks her first thought was to leave me on read, since now I can’t stop staring at the last message I sent.
