But Teacher, I Am Trying (My Best)

I love the feelings I have when sitting on rooftops.
I always have and I always will . . .
I have always liked this, since youth, or since the time when I realized
that my thoughts needed more than just my bedroom to settle down.

I can see how our thoughts can be infinite, like the stars
and I can see how our dreams can be ongoing –
like the universe.

You know, I was a kid once.
I had dreams. I wondered of the moon was really made of green cheese.
I wondered if there was a cow that really jumped over the moon –
and if there was, I always wondered what happened when the cow landed.
I mean, that’s a far drop from way up there, to way down here,

I remember the firs time I decided to venture outside and climb on my rooftop. . .
It was winter, although the cold was fine for me.

I climbed out the side window of my childhood home and stood up at the top of my family’s garage and then climbed up to the top of my house.
I was just a kid.
I was an old soul in so many ways, tired, and wishful
I was unsure.

Does love really exist?
What does the word love mean?
Can anyone feel this way?
Does everyone feel this way?
Or wait, does anyone feel like me?
eager and afraid . . .
hopeful and discouraged . . .
excited and disconnected . . .

I sat on the roof for hours, late at night,
quietly looking down from my spot on a street known as Merrick Avenue.
I saw the lights from the turnpike.
I saw the glow from the college stadium that was not too far away.
I felt this sense of comfort and quietness.
No one was there with me, which meant there was no one to impress.
There was no one to convince.
There was no one to tear me apart
And there was no one who would tell my secrets.

No, I had the sky and the stars to hear my dreams.
I placed my messages in bottles of air and let them drift upwards.
I made my peace with God and I vented my resentments.
I saw this as cleansing.
And I suppose we all need to cleanse.
Otherwise, we stay clogged or congested with all the shit that goes through our heads.
The roof . . .
I needed this place.

The air was cold and yet; I was fine to feel the breeze.
I was fine to take the wind and let the air press against my face.
Cold is not a bad thing.
At least, not like this.

I sat to contemplate the ideas of say, who would I be had I grown up, two towns over or who would I be if I was born later in the day?
Who would I be if I went left instead of right or chose to stick to my truth and who would I be if I stayed true instead of following the crowd and believed in their lies?

I have always liked the idea of walking away to find my freedom. I love the ideas that come with escaping the traps we find ourselves in, like the everyday routine with everyday or common people who do everyday or common things.
I have reached my limit and yes, there are times when I am fed up with the bullshit.
I want to scream.
Sure I do.
I want to break things and feel the crash of broken glass.
Of course, this makes sense to me.

Fast forward to older times when I was doing older things and living with older worries.
I tried to leave my childhood behind but abuse and the memories of betrayal had embedded themselves in my daily routines.

Fast forward from youth to young adulthood.
I was not so young anymore. But I was still young, nonetheless.
I still thought about the consistent need to either break away or to end the treaty between myself and the life I never asked for.

I could change my mind right now.
I could get up and walk away.
I can stop. I can say this is it.
I can make a commitment to myself
and stick to it.
What an amazing idea . . .

What if I had said no instead of yes?
Or what if I had said yes instead of no?
I love these moments of clarity.
I love when I allow myself to realize that the truth and my opinions
are not one and the same.

I love the truth of being introspective.
I love the ideas and the emotions that come with deciding to go, be or do;
and rather than rehearsing my goodbyes,
I loved the idea of standing up from the table without warning,
pushing my chair back in, and walking away without saying a word.

I wonder how many people would wonder.
I wonder how many people would ask,
“Wait, where are you going?”
but even more, I wonder the freedom that comes with not caring
If my absence was noticed or not.

I do not want to make more enemies.
And I do not want to hurt anyone anymore
than I have already hurt them.
But I know where I belong.
And I know when I don’t belong.
And sometimes, this angers the locals.
However, the end of the day comes for us all
and at the end, all we can do is come to a constructive conclusion.

Years later, my life had been altered a hundred times over.
I was no longer a young man.
I was equally lost but equally curious and wondering, how long?
What needs to happen for my life to begin?

I have been all over my city.
Uptown, downtown,
Eastside and Westside.
SoHo, Tribeca,
Alphabet city, Battery Park.
Chelsea, Stuyvesant Town
(or Stuy Town )

I have been on different rooftops.
I have seen my city from the uptown roof before The Towers went down.
And a piece of me died too on September 11.
More died later that month and the month after

I know he world is always changing, same as I am, and so is my body.
I don’t know what my plan is.
And sometimes, I need a moment on a rooftop somewhere.
I need this just to breathe or feel the air splash against my face.

I have never been out of the country.
Well, not really . . .
And I’ve only seen a few places that I can say were the most beautiful to me.
Hawaii, for example.
I was there.
I was there to see the most beautiful things.
But I was there under ugly circumstances and all of this
was built on a lie and predicated on an upcoming divorce
which was obvious.

I should have held to my guns.
I should have taken a different turn.
I knew it then and of course;
I know this now.
But knowing something after the fact is after the fact, which means
learning too late makes it took late to change our minds.
All I can say is I will never do that again . . .
settling is the worst thing anyone can do to their dreams.

I don’t need to go to too many different places.
And I don’t think I need the million dollar vacations.

I know what I need though.
I know who I need.
I know what I have done and I agree;
I know all about the collateral damage
and the casualties that came due to friendly fire, if there is such a thing.
I live with regret and I live with the nightmares of mistakes from my past.
Then again, I suppose we all do.

I have my list of regrets, which coincide with my list of amends,
to which yes, I am willing to make amends to them all,
—even if those who I need to amend with
are not ready or willing to amend with me.

That part is beyond my control –

I have never seen the sunrise in Aruba.
And I’ve never seen much in Mexico
and come to think of it, my time in Puerto Rico was short
and again, my choices were limited and
so was the company I kept.

But not anymore.

I suppose if I were to sit on a rooftop now,
high above the rest of the world, I would look to sip from my coffee.
I’d take the wind as it blew across my face.
I would look at the sky and see the variation of the clouds
or notice the sunrise.
And if it were nighttime, I would look at the moon.
I would look at the stars.

I would breathe in, nice and deep.
And I would think about what it means to find myself,
as in “finally,” and thus, I would finally have the bravery it takes
to stake my claim and go after the one thing
that no one can take away from me.

My dream. . .

I know that I have not found what I’m looking for yet.
And I know that partly; I have found it
but we are living in two separate places
And I know that you and I are in different places at the moment.
I know that animosity can kill us all; and yes,
I know what animosity has done to you and me.

I know what I have done.
But I am done with what I have done
and now,
it’s time for me to do more than I have ever dared.

Maybe I’ll grow up someday.
or maybe growing up isn;t the move.
Maybe I need to be the way I was when I was a kid
because that was the real me, the true me,
and this is the me who I’ve always wanted you to see.

Maybe I’ll be less afraid.
Or maybe I’ll find a way to rid myself from the toxins, which I call my past.
Or maybe you and I will find ourselves on the right side of the tide.
Maybe . . .
Maybe we can be on some far away beach,
where the waters are clear and bluer than the sky.
The sun will be high, and the winds will be warm.
The sky will be clear and you and I –
we can take a nice, long walk down the beach
with our feet in the water and the sun on our faces.

I am sorry for so many things.
Most of all, I am sorry for my lack of bravery
or when I said no, when the truth is;
I’ve always wanted to say yes.

I confess this to you with my mouth
my heart, my soul
and with all that I have
the day you give me your hand
is the day you will see all I can show you
and then
you and me . . .
we have places to see
things to do
and then, I think the rooftops will have a different meaning to me
I swear. . . .