Wayne Interrupted

When I was 10 years old I went crazy. I knew what reality was and knew how to function in your world, but I was crazy. I had OCD flashes of horrible violence, blood and razors. It was horrible.

I tried to kill my father. I put rubbing alcohol in his Listerine bottle. This may not sound like a lot to you, rubbing alcohol is pretty harmless to gargle with.

My father owned a bar. My mother knew that we knew people drank alcohol. She told me that if a person put rubbing alcohol in their mouth, they would die.

What kind of kid does that?

I've been sitting on the number of the cold case squad in the precinct in Brooklyn where it happened. I asked a friend if it was his daughter, after 30 + years, would he want to know something so horrible.

He shook his head no without hesitation.

We were sitting at Dustin Hoffman's kitchen table. Yeah, that Dustin Hoffman, I was painting his kids playhouse.

Anyway, do I call? My memory is so fucking weak. I don't know which building it even happened in. All I know is that someone got away with murdering the girl I loved.

I repressed the memory through the Elan School and prison. But in the end I had that memory come back to me. It was a long time ago and I've dealt with it through my writing, but to deal with it in RL after all these years. My legs get weak thinking about actually going and finding that building, that metal staircase. I have to admit, I'm afraid. I'd spit in your eye if I knew you could clobber me, but the idea of going back there after all these years scares the shit out of me.

I have a lot to think about.