And The Worm TURNS!

You would think I would be happy... fracking flipping fantastically happy! You wouldn't think I was sitting here, alone, crying in the dark. You wouldn't think that my phone was playing REM and Bruce all day... but it was. You seriously Wouldn't think that tears were rolling down my cheeks as I write this, but they are and I am. The slim moments of relief, from having pushed a huge fucking bolder up a hill, every single day, for three months. I was convinced  at times, that the pain I felt when people I loved promised to help, yet walked away with back turned without giving a care.

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[caption id="attachment_231" align="aligncenter" width="300"] This is a shot of Darrell and Danny in about 1966. We visited Galveston via the old ferry, that day and had steak that night. It was a great day.[/caption]

(When... Why, did your hand leave mine?)

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I thought that pain would kill me, until today. Today the momentary relief was replaced with a greater sense of loss than any I have ever known. Than I have ever known... I awoke to a world of terror and pain... twice now, in this life... alone both times.... Now, a new fresh hell has throw itself at my feet and dared me to pass. I just wanted to relax, I just wanted some measure of peace... it was not meant to be. In the growing lonelyness that comes with each dusk, I found my new fear, at the foot of my bed, just waiting there with baited breath. A terror, a fear, that has gripped my very soul.

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[caption id="attachment_184" align="aligncenter" width="300"] Danny and Darrell in 1959, I am the Blonde Driving[/caption]

(I used to look over my shoulder, and you were right there...)

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All this time... all these days without rest and nights without sleep... all this... writing. Oh, Jesus people, do you have any idea... do you have any clue what it is like? What it is like to RELIVE THOSE TIMES? Between 1971 and 1977 I tried to kill myself three times. You didn't know about that, did you... Bobby... Russell... Joe. You all knew 'Dan' so well... Reeaallly? Seriously? You knew me? You knew the pain it was to come from a broken family? You knew the pain of a brother, back from Vietnam... but broken? You know this pain?

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(Danny, Ken and Darrell... His Three Sons)

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...going back... You asked me to go back... I barely made it out, the first time. But, hey, let's go back to Pearland! ROFLMAO The daily bullies, the bus rides from hell, the humiliation and rejection... isn't that what every America wants.? To live, then retell? Before I started, before I sat before these keyboards and opened these flood gates? There was a dark hole, over my shoulder, looking back. I was comfortable, with what was there, just as long as it stayed there! Now, I have willingly walked into it's trap.

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[caption id="attachment_183" align="aligncenter" width="280"] Darrell and Kenny Ray Playing on the Old Buick[/caption]

 

(What... what did I do to drive you all away?)

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I almost made it, too. I almost made it through the insane torture that was my freshman year. I made it through the theatrical debacle that was 'Bye Bye Birdie' (great memories there... some damn fine young men I had the great pleasure to work with... damn fine men... Leo...) Then it came to.... Doc leaving my side. Than is when the darkness enveloped me, all around. Nobody else sees it, nobody else knows its there, but it is. It reaches out from inside me, where it has been lying quietly for years and years. Hell, even a blow from a falling (not flying) typewriter couldn't keep me from this destiny.

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I was only 16 years old, and I was loosing my second father in as many years. Not only that? I was asked... asked because... I didn't write it there... I did not want anyone to know... the shame. Doc had written and asked... Doc had made this last request... in the moments before he died, he asked. He reached out, from nearest the grave, and made a request. A request of repose. And in his last breath, he asked that these two... these two young men, take a night out of their lives... and to sit in repose. And they said "No thanks..."

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[caption id="attachment_187" align="aligncenter" width="286"] Danny in 1963[/caption]

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NO THANKS?!! This man, he gave you a life worth living! He gave, of himself, every single day... and yet from some dark place... some place of arrogant entitlement... and you say "No thanks" to THIS MAN!?! They had no problem eating his food... riding or driving his car... they had no problem taking his money and time... but, in the end, they had no time, for Doc. No time for Doc... the man who always had time for us! It burns inside me to this day, yet my tongue I will hold.

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The next day, at the funeral  they were seen. Long after that night's vigil was done, the duty of honor discharged by another, you both did show you faces. I saw them, there. Only from a distance, could I see, but you both were there... smiling and chumming, as though nothing was wrong.

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I made it to that point... that really is, pretty far. If only you knew, just how the beatings made the days pass so slowly. Yet, I went back. Back into that darkness, behind me, just for your support. I had my back to a wall, you knew that, right? I had just spent eight months of time, days of appointments and doctors and examinations.

"Just one more poke, right here... Just one more measurement and twist and turn... just one more humiliation at our hands, and you will be done..."

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For month after month I endured and kept calmly quiet. All along, I knew. I knew that I was too poor. I knew that I no longer made the rich, richer, as i did before. I knew that another hand, theirs, had left mine... as well. I know that I stand alone.

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So, back into the darkness I must go. To pull fairy dust from bones. Again, why is it me?