Brooklyn

Posted by Madelyn Malloy in English 2 · Pahomov · C Band on Tuesday, November 21, 2017 at 11:27 am

I shut my laptop proud but overwhelmed by what I have just written. I know I just need a walk, I’ll feel even better, even though it’s like two in the morning. Eh I’ll be okay. I grab my coat and walk out of apartment 512.

I love Brooklyn with all my heart. Every time I look around, I feel like I get a new perspective on how beautiful my city is, even though I’ve lived here all my life. Actually, no. I have lived in Manhattan all my life. But anyway, I still enjoy the beauty of my city. I moved to Brooklyn a few months ago away from my mother, and it’s honestly hard living on your own. Being eighteen in a big city is terrifying because you have no support; you’re kind of just out there. I mean my whole life I have basically been living on my own. My mom has never supported me in anything I do; my first job I had to get on my own at fifteen and it was stressful. I needed the money though, because my mom did not want to support me anymore. All I had was me, myself and I. I also had been going through a rough time at this point in my life, which was actually recently. My boyfriend dumped me, my mom didńt want to support me anymore, and I was just all alone. It sucked, it really did until I found my calling which is poetry. I desperately needed to purge the negativity I had, and I am not the one to turn to alcohol or smoking, so I found that writing was the thing for me. It’s funny though, how amazing it felt to write. It’s almost like an angel appeared to me and was watching out for me.

I feel so much better that I’m out and walking. I feel as though all of my negativity is gone. I start to walk back and pass my favorite store ‘El Tenampa Deli and Grocery’ or as like to call it, ‘mi tienda’, which sells the best Latin foods ever. Mi tienda is a special place for me and my poetry because one of my first friends, Lucia, works here. I usually stop in for food of course, but also I show her my poetry. It’s closed sadly, but again, I’m out at 2am.

I finally make it back home and my phone actually rings. I pick it up and my heart drops. It’s my mom-this cannot end well. “Eres egoísta y siempre serás!” I never had been more mad in my life. Whenever I get annoyed with my mom, or get into an argument I speak Spanish to her because she can’t speak or understand it. What a perfect end to a perfect night. I can’t even believe she’s arguing with me, this is exactly why I moved out.

I can’t sleep, so I turn on my T.V and Seinfeld is on. The night slowly fades and I actually see that the sky had brightened. I get up from my couch to look for my poem that I threw somewhere but I can’t find it. I then hear an aggressive knock on my door and my soul nearly leaves my body.

“Yes, I completely understand, thank you.” I can’t believe it. I can’t live out on the streets. I can’t. I need an extra job. I grab my coat, and walk out in the cold air

Every shop I pass by seems to be full of employees and my hopes just wear down. It’s no use. So I walk the empty streets of Brooklyn back to apartment 512.

I pick up a letter from Lucia by the door, and I close it behind me. I sit on my green dusty couch in awe. Someone had answered my prayers. Although I feel a little violated, I just cannot believe what is happening right now. Five hundred dollars. I can’t believe it just came in the mail. The letter said:

Dear Mi Chiquita,

I know that times have been tough, I’ve read it from your poetry. You’ve been through a lot. I decided to try to help and sell “Don’t Take From My Tree.” to one of my friends that work in the New York Times. I have received money back from her, and people seem to enjoy it. Please take care of yourself, amorcita.