"Do You Have A Lifestory, Jimmy?", chapter 1
I lit my last cigarette and started walk down the Boulevard. It was getting late. Clouds hung over town, ready to splash some water.
I wasn't really just a person that you just pass. A) I didn't look like anyone. B) I was anarchist C) I lived on the streets. Mostly on the Boulevards.
The thin smoke from my cig died slowly in the rain that started to drop over me. Oh well. Time to find a home again.
There was really no "home." Not since my mother died. I never had any father either. You see, mom was a prostitute from that she was only 16 years old. It was sad.
My dad was one of her, so called, customers. He offered her some booze. And then some more. And some more.
She told me that story pretty many times, trust me.
And when they both were really drunk, I was made. Yup, that's how she expressed it. How they "made" me. That's why I almost never label myself "human" or "a guy like anyone". I'm a thing, a product.
I am Whatsername.
I settled down in the tunnel. There were already a lot of guys there. I looked for anyone I recognized, but I seemed to be alone. I really had no friends, and I didn't want any either. I just wasn't social.
As time ticked by, more and more people started dropping in.
Now I was out of ciggs. I guessed I'd have to steal some tomorrow. I was used to stealing. It was just like when you real people (not things, as me) say you have to go shopping. To me, that means "I have to go stealing."
I just sat there in the tunnel, as one of the all lost kids. We all were doomed to something we didn't deserve. No one deserves a fate like ours. That was the only place where I could be one in the crowd.
That night I didn't fall asleep at all. I sat up all damn night long, watching the others fall asleep, one by one, with dry tears in my eyes. I was in a bad phase again.
"02:16am," I stated, as having a look at my watch. Every minute seemed like a year. I really should get some sleep.
I pushed my backpack up as a pillow, but my eyes were unable to close. I blinked. Come on, you need some sleep, I tried to force myself.
Suddenly, another guy dropped into the tunnel. I tried to keep my eyes off of him, just like I hadn't seen him. But I was the only one around who was awake.
His eyes met mine, and I nodded with a forced little smile.
"Hi", he said as he made a gesture to the little space beside me. "Can I sit down?"
"Sure", I replied and pushed my bag beside. He smelled pot.
Embarrassing silence. I had no courage to look at him, and he didn't seem to have either. It took me about three minutes to figure out something I would say.
"Um", I began and forced my head to face him. "What's your name, by the way?"
Then I realised how beautiful eyes he had. They were dark brown, and looked so sad, although he gave me a smile.
"Jimmy", he said. "And your name?"
I bit my lip and sighed.
"I really have none. I'm not a you, or a she. I am an it", I eventually told him and stretched out my hand. "Whatsername."
He shook my hand carefully, and smiled that mystical smile again, I just couldn't interpret it.
"Correction: I'm St. Jimmy."
I was glad he wasn't one of these dickheads, saying like "Seriously, what's your name?" Jimmy just got it.
As he didn't say anything else, I took the time.
"Do you have a lifestory, Jimmy?"
Jimmy grinned.
"Yeah I guess I have."
"Can I hear it?"
"Are you really that curious?"
"I am."
"Are you really sure you want to hear a misery like me?"
"Yes." I smiled, and he smiled back.
"Let go. Honestly, you'll get really bored, I'm like a boring poet." He grinned again.
"Hey! I want to hear it, come on!"
"Okay, okay!"
We burst into laughter, both of us. I always think like, WOW, when I laugh, cause... It doesn't happen often.
"Promise to not laugh at me", Jimmy begged.
I shook my head and put my hand at my chest, just where the heart is.
"I'm the son of rage and love, the Jesus of Suburbia..." He took a deep breath.
"Is that all?" I asked, moving a little bit closer.
"Please, don't force me... it's the worst story ever."
Then I saw those beautiful eyes glisten with tears.
"Sorry, I obviously didn't--" I tried, but he just held up his hand.
"It's okay. We better get some sleep."
I nodded and bit my lip.
"Really, I am sorry!"
Jimmy gave me a meaning glance, and I lowered my voice.
"Okay", I whispered.
And I knew that I could trust Jimmy. I had never been so open to anyone before.
I wasn't really just a person that you just pass. A) I didn't look like anyone. B) I was anarchist C) I lived on the streets. Mostly on the Boulevards.
The thin smoke from my cig died slowly in the rain that started to drop over me. Oh well. Time to find a home again.
There was really no "home." Not since my mother died. I never had any father either. You see, mom was a prostitute from that she was only 16 years old. It was sad.
My dad was one of her, so called, customers. He offered her some booze. And then some more. And some more.
She told me that story pretty many times, trust me.
And when they both were really drunk, I was made. Yup, that's how she expressed it. How they "made" me. That's why I almost never label myself "human" or "a guy like anyone". I'm a thing, a product.
I am Whatsername.
I settled down in the tunnel. There were already a lot of guys there. I looked for anyone I recognized, but I seemed to be alone. I really had no friends, and I didn't want any either. I just wasn't social.
As time ticked by, more and more people started dropping in.
Now I was out of ciggs. I guessed I'd have to steal some tomorrow. I was used to stealing. It was just like when you real people (not things, as me) say you have to go shopping. To me, that means "I have to go stealing."
I just sat there in the tunnel, as one of the all lost kids. We all were doomed to something we didn't deserve. No one deserves a fate like ours. That was the only place where I could be one in the crowd.
That night I didn't fall asleep at all. I sat up all damn night long, watching the others fall asleep, one by one, with dry tears in my eyes. I was in a bad phase again.
"02:16am," I stated, as having a look at my watch. Every minute seemed like a year. I really should get some sleep.
I pushed my backpack up as a pillow, but my eyes were unable to close. I blinked. Come on, you need some sleep, I tried to force myself.
Suddenly, another guy dropped into the tunnel. I tried to keep my eyes off of him, just like I hadn't seen him. But I was the only one around who was awake.
His eyes met mine, and I nodded with a forced little smile.
"Hi", he said as he made a gesture to the little space beside me. "Can I sit down?"
"Sure", I replied and pushed my bag beside. He smelled pot.
Embarrassing silence. I had no courage to look at him, and he didn't seem to have either. It took me about three minutes to figure out something I would say.
"Um", I began and forced my head to face him. "What's your name, by the way?"
Then I realised how beautiful eyes he had. They were dark brown, and looked so sad, although he gave me a smile.
"Jimmy", he said. "And your name?"
I bit my lip and sighed.
"I really have none. I'm not a you, or a she. I am an it", I eventually told him and stretched out my hand. "Whatsername."
He shook my hand carefully, and smiled that mystical smile again, I just couldn't interpret it.
"Correction: I'm St. Jimmy."
I was glad he wasn't one of these dickheads, saying like "Seriously, what's your name?" Jimmy just got it.
As he didn't say anything else, I took the time.
"Do you have a lifestory, Jimmy?"
Jimmy grinned.
"Yeah I guess I have."
"Can I hear it?"
"Are you really that curious?"
"I am."
"Are you really sure you want to hear a misery like me?"
"Yes." I smiled, and he smiled back.
"Let go. Honestly, you'll get really bored, I'm like a boring poet." He grinned again.
"Hey! I want to hear it, come on!"
"Okay, okay!"
We burst into laughter, both of us. I always think like, WOW, when I laugh, cause... It doesn't happen often.
"Promise to not laugh at me", Jimmy begged.
I shook my head and put my hand at my chest, just where the heart is.
"I'm the son of rage and love, the Jesus of Suburbia..." He took a deep breath.
"Is that all?" I asked, moving a little bit closer.
"Please, don't force me... it's the worst story ever."
Then I saw those beautiful eyes glisten with tears.
"Sorry, I obviously didn't--" I tried, but he just held up his hand.
"It's okay. We better get some sleep."
I nodded and bit my lip.
"Really, I am sorry!"
Jimmy gave me a meaning glance, and I lowered my voice.
"Okay", I whispered.
And I knew that I could trust Jimmy. I had never been so open to anyone before.
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