*wrote this last night when I couldn't get to a computer, but I still thought I'd share....tried my best not to do any editing...*
It's 12:30 and I want a cigarette more than I want to breathe, which, is the decision I'd be making since the change in weather is aggravating my asthma. Staring at my Bible and Gradebook, wondering why God had to go and say that only fools give themselves to strong drink, and if my fourth period even cares that I haven't had one since my birthday.
I am a teacher now. And if that alone isn't enough to keep you awake at night consider this:
One of my students tells me that she has to quit Drama Club because she needs to be at home to take care of her son. Another asks me whether I think she should get an abortion, or keep the baby and drop out. Found out, the day after he gets expelled, one of my students is homeless. His best friend just got sent to a group home. I feel like searching the streets to tell them they've both pulled a C-...their highest grades since they started school here in 7th grade.
If this were a movie, now is when I'd buy a leather jacket and "get Emilio", but the problem here is not with respect. I am not the "Great White Hope" that they despise because of money or race...I'm just their teacher. And they've got better things to do. Like not starve.
I may have bitten off more adulthood than I can chew.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I know what the key to reaching them is. I try to remind myself what teachers said to me when I walked in high or crying...
I need some vices.
Some legitimate, guilty-pleasure stress relievers to throw myself desperately into. Because all I've got these days are coffee and chocolate...and I'm going to have to give up chocolate for the sake of that stupid dress my brother's making me wear in his wedding.
A smart person would long for healthy choices. Prayer. Meditation. More consistent journaling...but I'm sick of healthy choices. Because I've done the right thing. Been doing the right thing every day when I decide not to quit my job and run away. Every minute I decide not to pick up the phone and call the last person to break my heart. Every time I walk away from the comfort of a pain that is familiar, I'm doing the healthy thing...the healthy thing which has me stressed and lonely in a small town that I love, but wish I could get away from.
I miss my brothers. Want us to be 4, 13, and 16 again spending the day downtown buying Christmas presents for our folks. More than that, I miss my grandmothers. And great aunts. And Maurice. Which is strange, because I never miss them all at once like that...but it's after midnight and I think my subconscious is calling out to anyone that has ever made me feel better.
I need to sleep. Gotta be at my best for my kids in the morning.
Peace Be