Spiraling Vortex

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is actually a real journal, but it has some fictional attributes embellished into it.

Submitted: December 11, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 11, 2012





Her long red hair and soft green eyes was loved by all. Her ability to calm maelstrom was needed in the house. My father adored her and me, yet she left only a few pictures and memories in her place. I mean it’s not her fault, if anything it was my fault. I was the one who needed medicine. She went to the store to get it and got killed, never found the killer. I don’t remember much because I was four, but from what I’ve heard it was a bloody mess, thanks Dad, not really. I’m Thomas P’Poolee, and this was the beginning to my spiral.

Being an only child living with an alcoholic dad and a druggy step-mom isn’t a fun life. Dad always tells me, “You have blonde hair and blue eyes, but neither me nor your mom had that. I knew that whore was sleeping around. Well faggot, how does it feel to be a bastard child?” Dad walking around with his beer gut out, seeing an angel in Angelica; his teeth are rotting out and his hair has migrated from his scalp to his back, EW. Angelica, God I can’t stand this woman. She gets all of Dad’s disability check and buys herself some crystal. She looks like the stereotypical crack head, which she is.

The family portrait- A balding, overweight, pirate as father; a crack head, twenty-eight year old who looks ninety, with hair that looks like oily pasta; a blonde, seventeen year old who looks like a normal teenager. Yeah, I want that on a Christmas card… If someone was to see this they’d think my I was a happy teenager, they would be severely wrong. I am never happy, I am used, I am angry, and I only know one way out, but I don’t want to take that path.

If you don’t know what I mean by one path out, just think. Do the words: BANG, pills, gun, or rope ring any bells? Ok, same page now. Well, it’s late and I have school tomorrow. Goodnight Journal. Wednesday, August 31st.


Today was the first day of school, shit. Senior year is here and I am not ready. I haven’t filled out any college applications and I haven’t taken the placement test. If I have taken the test I know I would make 50 out of 500. I get there driving my dad’s beat up Mercury Zephyr. I walked in school and the first words I heard, “FAG!” God, I hate that word. I hear it like it is my name, oh wait, everyone thinks it is. The one group of people I actually like to converse with sometimes makes me feel like no one wants me. I mean I don’t understand with they would and I think they would just tell me, but I can’t read peoples’ minds.

Sometimes I think it would be cool, but I mean it would turn into exasperation after a while. People’s thoughts are their own personal property. I wouldn’t want people reading mine. If they did, it would be World War III. It’s not like I wish death upon people, but I mean sometimes I think why people are liked as much as they are-being they have a personality of a dead rock. I took all AP classes, stupid me. I have homework in every class and two essays on Monday. You know what, screw it. I can go one day without doing my homework it won’t kill me.

I’m home. “Thomas, go pick up Angelica! She got into some trouble today, so you have to pick her up at the jail.” Jesus Dad, you have great judgment. So I went to get her playing none other than Skillet and The xx. She is inside the jail, drunk as hell. What was she in for, Public Indecency. OF COURSE, WHY WOULD I THINK ANY DIFFERENT! The crack head is in jail for flashing her tatas to a cop trying to get out a speeding ticket. Gah, please officer, just put me in here to get me away from all these people. That was my day; Thursday, September 1st.



I got into a fight today. Not like a fist fight, but like an argument with very heated words. Everything seems to be going down the drain in counter clockwise. I get tired of people correcting me! I mean my “Friends” are the ones who are doing it. I lost one last night and two today. The first was because I voiced my opinion and the other two was because I accidently hit one of them. That leaves me with one.

I wonder what I can do to mess this one up. It would be my luck. The house has been empty lately. My loving father ran off with the lovely Angelica. Can’t you just see the sarcasm dripping off of that? An alcoholic and a druggy running around a big city are not going to be very secretive are law abiding. I’m just waiting for the call that says I have to go pick them up half-way across the country, being I don’t know where they went.

All I have left to talk to is Danny. Anytime I talk to him, I think I’m annoying him with the problems with my sucky life. He says I’m not, but I feel like I am. Tonight I am jamming out to Mayday Parade. It’s been a while since I’ve written in my journal. I kinda missed it, being able to express my feelings and ideas without people judging me or making fun of me.

I wonder if Mom was still alive I could have similar conversations with her about my life. They always say “a mother knows best.” What happens when you don’t have a mother or even a mother figure?  I really miss her. Tomorrow is going make another year she has been gone, the thirteenth anniversary. Today was her birthday too. I went out to the graveyard earlier today. I laid there next to her grave stone wanting to feel her warmth once more. I set flowers on her grave and said a few things. It’s late. Happy Birthday Mom, I love you, and miss you…November 8th, 2011.


It the thirteenth anniversary of Mom being killed and I’m done! I have thought so long about it. No matter what I do I either regret it, get mad, or get sad. I just don’t wanna keep going on the hell hole where no one cares for you. I started crying in school today and got made fun of called a female dog, wuss or something that rhymes with wussy. No one asked me what wrong and no one cared. If I kill myself I get to be with my mother, someone who would actually care about me.

I have made plans, since father wasn’t home. He called earlier today. “I got a call from school, Thomas. What happened? ... I know it’s hard, but hey, me and Angelica are going be gone for a little bit longer. Be home sometime. Got to fend for yourself. Time to be a man, not a child. I know how hard it will be for you to do that, Fag.” Click.

I thought it was going to be a good conversation at first. I was wrong. I have written up my “I’m sorry” letter telling people that “it was nothing they did” and that “life was just too hard to handle.” Half of that was right. I have everything set out: pills, water, and music. I keep hearing like someone is outside. Maybe it’s just my mind trying to stop me…It’s not going to work. Good Bye. November 9th, 2011.


Man….It didn’t work. I took nine phenergan and it didn’t freaking work. You know, one puts me to sleep for a couple of hours, you think; nine would let me sleep forever. Danny found me. Why was he at my house and How did he get in? Was he the noise I kept hearing outside?

Maybe it’s a sign. I’m getting in touch with my mother’s belief that there is more in the world than what we can see and understand. I have a few of her journals that she kept up until that night. She was happy. Dad was happy. I was happy. Those times are long gone. I was in the hospital for three days they said. I had to get my stomach pumped, and now I have to go to therapy. I looked like a mess. I lost about 20 pounds. It doesn’t show much on my torso, but it shows on my face. I look like death.

All three days the nurses told me people would line up in the hall to see me. That’s what always happens when a kid is in the hospital no matter the reason. Last year, a girl tried. She got a room full of flowers. Thousands of people came to support her. When she got back to school, everyone loved her. I had one person come. Not my father nor Angelica, but Danny. I don’t know if he came just to give me homework or if he was really worried about me. The nurses asked if he was my “Best Friend.” I didn’t know what to say so I shrugged my shoulders. Maybe he is.

I finished reading all of Mom’s journals and it got me to thinking. Did my father read these? She talks about how after I was born he changed. He was the best man in the world to her and wanted nothing more than her to be happy. I was born and he got distant. That’s when the alcoholism started. I need to talk to him about this, but I had cognitive therapy today just to make sure my brain still functions. You think they would be able to see that. I mean I read the entire stay. I need sleep. November 13th, 2011.


Today was the day. I asked dad about before me and after me. I was shocked. Here is the story from the beginning (just in case I want to read it again). Mom and Dad were high school sweethearts. They won homecoming king and queen almost every year. They got cutest couple every year. Their senior year they won prom king and prom queen. One night, they were being teenagers. They were at my mom’s childhood house. Grandma and Grandpa weren’t there. They were having fun and I was made. It was right before graduation. They were shocked. I was born, and they decided they wanted another baby. They tried and tried and tried. It never worked out in their favor. They decided Mom was infertile or Dad was sterile.

They both got tested. It took months before the results came back. Mom’s results came first. She was able to have kids. No problems everything was fine. Then Dad’s results came back. They found the problem. It showed that Dad was incapable to have children. It crushed their hearts. Mom wanted three kids, and Dad would do anything for her to be happy. He starting drinking to cope with the depression and regret that came with his idea that he couldn’t make mom happy.

They were a married couple and still did married couple things. They didn’t take “precautions” because it wasn’t necessary. They did the married couple thing and a blessing happened. Mom got pregnant. Dad stopped drinking. They were so happy. I was three so when my parents were happy I was happy. Mom was so far along, and they knew what gender baby it was and everything. They even had a name picked out. Alesea Rose P’Poolee; that was my sister’s name. It is beautiful. She was due on November 14th. When Mom was killed Alesea was saved. My dad put her in the care of my grandparents. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to take care of two small children alone. This was the first time I saw my dad cry, November 14th 2011



After the other day, I haven’t really seen dad. I know him and Angelica got into a huge fight because of some reason. It had something to do with her crack addition, she wasn’t happy with it. She stormed out. Well, at least that gets rid of that problem. I hope he isn’t at the bar all night, if he is, I have more problems than I can count.

I forgot to get the mail today, but I just ran down and got it. The apartments look filthier than ever. We live on the ground floor, so I’d hate to see the upper floors. There is something about night classes at the community college. Maybe they’re for me or just put them in the wrong box, they just say for the current resident.

The school has been on the seniors’ case about college stuff, lately. Majors, FASFA, living, jobs, advice, minors, extracurricular, and all sorts of stuff I really don’t know anything about. I want to go to a good college, get a degree, and have a good live. I want my future kids, if I have any, to have a good life too, well better than I did. I thought about some majors: Biology, Psychology, Pre-Med, Chemistry, Education (maybe), Communications. I don’t know, I want to help people though.

I hope Dad is nicer now. I mean either way, we will still probably be distant. I’m done with the verbal assaults though. I have threatened him in various ways: running away, taking his debit card and running out all of his funds, calling social services, etc. He actually seemed to care. I kind of wonder if he is changing; the last fight we got into was about mom and school. I’m kind of hungry, so I need to go back to my vulture ways and scavenge. November 30, 2011



When I said I thought things were changing, I was right. Dad dumped Angelica (the night of the fight). The apartment has been clean every day when I got home. Dad was even home. He cooked supper early and then went to bed. He said he had a long day and that he may go out tonight. I don’t know where he is going; maybe the bar. When I went to empty my plate I saw all of Dad’s alcohol bottles in the trash. If they were empty, I don’t know.

I started trying in school and looking at some colleges. I got my schedule changed from the “easy” path to the advanced path. The counselors were all for it. I don’t feel like typing much because I have tons of homework to do. December 1, 2011












Dad got sober. He got a good job and went back to college (that explains the pamphlets). He is now studying to be a Nurse. He has been working at a nursing home as staff in the dining hall and a janitor. We got a new house. Dad even got a new girlfriend; she is a classmate in his nursing class. Her name is Lora. I LOVE HER! She helps me with school and she is a motherly figure. Danny and I are considered “Best Friends” now. He really helped through it all.

With all the good stuff happening for us, Dad decided it was time. We went to Manhattan to see my grandparents……and my sister. She was the carbon copy of my mother. The red hair and the soft green eyes were there; if you saw her you would think she was an angel. She is coming back home in a couple of months. I applied to a few colleges nearby. 

She finished this year of school. All this time I thought my mother’s belief in something beyond what we see was kind of stupid, but now I know for a fact she was right! Here is a little something for anyone whoever reads this for whatever reason and thought their life was as bad as mine.

Don’t let life be taken for granted. We all go through hard times, but they make us who we are. Never try to escape them. Something great can be just around the corner.

I decided to go into psychology and become a counselor to help kids like me make it over the hurdles in their life. I know how it is going through it, and I understand. I’m going to Manhattan with Dad, Lora, and Danny in the morning so I need sleep. Goodnight and may your dreams become reality! May 1st, 2012

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