Dear Titusville, Florida, 327 whatever,
I’m writing an official goodbye letter, saying that I will no longer set foot in this town. You will ultimately have to deal with me not being there, and all because of two words: high school. Those words turned into two more words: bad memories. Too many bad memories plague my high school hours, and band and chorus were almost stripped from me. I will have been a fallen star because of two people: Jason Lawrence and Orien Henry. Here’s what I’m talking about:
I was born in the west coast, across the hall from you, and in a big old hospital, and born blind. Why should anyone be surprised that I’m able to write this stupid letter? You thought I’d never make it, but I sure as heck did. You thought I couldn’t get a job, but I’ve got something better. I have a real family, blind and disabled individuals who understand what’s going on. And the surprises are just getting started: my dad is ultimately thinking about paying for the forensic evaluation that I’m finally able to wrench out of a Denver clinic. Why Denver, you ask? Well, there are a zillion reasons why I am not coming back to Titusville, except on visits and occasions like births and so on. Well, not even that, but I won’t sneak in. I will never ever see this old worn down town again for a few reasons: transportation being the top reason. There are no eligible bachelors in Titusville willing to marry scum, or what they view as scum, and that is but two words Beth Taurasi. I’m not scum, and I’ve had to think that I’m not for years. It’s taken years to recover from this horrific stupid cycle of rejection, rejection, rejection. I have never had a love in my life till I met Blake. It was inconceivable at first, me being with Blake and all. Blake is sweet, just too sweet for words to describe. There is no word in the dictionary that would describe his tenacity, support, his will to live and all that. Blake is a fighter, not just on the tae kwon do floor, but all the time in any way you can think of. He fights for his life, access to websites, access through his Internet provider. They are a dinky little piece of paper called, … Speed Connect. I guess they finally caught on to Net Neutrality, and they unblocked Blake’s access to Bear Ware or whatever that site is that does Team Talk. My readers who are on Team Talk know that site well. Guess even the firewalls in Speed Whatever your names are just didn’t block it now. Let’s just hope that they don’t block any more sites that Blake visits frequently. After all, just because “Well, we don’t like the IP or the site” doesn’t mean you have every right to tell Blake and his dear mom that they can’t access the site because you have such a weird opinion about it.
By the same token, you, Titusville, Brevard County, and Florida, are all responsible for ruining and allowing other people to ruin my life. You have allowed others to manipulate and overexaggerate abuse, neglect, emotional unsupportive ways, and so on. I now have a negative balance in my bank account. My dad says I should watch my money, but guess what? I need to make sure the food is in the fridge, and I get it done, whether it’s me or someone else. Ugh.
You really don’t get it, do you? Do all Brevard County residents have to be so inconsistent in their message? Oh, let’s primp up the Down’s Syndrome and exceptional kids in class, then treat them like scum the next day. No Down’s child has ever been a THS homecoming king or queen. Wanna know why? Because this stupid and discriminatory state and county do not think. I’ve seen special needs kids get homecoming spots and people really love them. There are more accepting parts of this country than Titusville, and that reminds me. I watched a really good old teen chick flick. A Cinderella Story. Sam Montgomery is a girl who works at a diner, and then her dad dies and the evil stepmom who turns out criminal and totally bewitched and all decides to make Sam stay home from college and make her dreams go … yeah, out the door. My dreams came out the door when I turned 14, not 24 like in Bowling for Soup. I hate to say this, but Titusville doesn’t deserve to be home of a great singer. I gave many hours of singing to this stupid little weird town, but what did I get back? Oh yes, I got a ruined life, and now I can’t deal. I want to try the worship team at church, but I guess nobody has room and they won’t make room. Can’t they be a little more considerate? Am I just a care object? No. I’m honestly not a care object. I want activities in my life besides that darned DVR work adjustment which, thank goodness, may come to a graceful end. Nothing bad about that. I mean, the boss was blind, but sadly, not that he’s blind, but he has a sighted brother. The brothers who work the company are great, and it was nice trying to help the Boss out. But the thing is I will not be worked like a slave. Not anymore. I expect to be paid, SSI or otherwise, for work that I put into hours and hours for. I mean, I want to introduce you Titusville Terriers out there to Chris G., a guy who is really cool and is really good at computers and stuff. He’s smart by charging for tech support, and he absolutely means what he says. He wrote this Facebook status which said, “I will charge x number of dollars per y hours.” And he sets the record straight. Chris, you might be reading this, but I applaud you for not letting the slave masters, the poor and weird blind community, work you to death. I can’t possibly pay you myself, but payment for you is the only way you can save up for your dreams. Honestly, I’m going to charge a million dollars total for the damages caused by Brevard County and my family and all the people involved and the manipulation, the somehow misguided “help” that the guardianship provided. Manipulating my poor father and mother into believing I was a monster, and saying, “I’ll cover your butt by giving Beth no position to marry anybody.” Really. I know exactly who to turn the attention to next.
X., my VI teacher, let’s say she is called X. X is your best friend, but X is the place that marks every spot, so X is the lady’s name. X was the one who wrote my name in a comment to a complete stranger, and said, “She’s chasing after boys.’ Shut up! I have the best friend, who is male, in the whole world. I’ve become a passionate defender of disabled people’s rights, and you can see this in my blog posts. To X, I’m sorry if you think this is disrespectful, but how could you be so cruel after so many years of raising me? Practically raising me like a mother yourself would do to a child, you have betrayed me! Blake would never do this, not even once. He cares about me, and he can’t stand to see me cry. I found the diamond I have been hunting for in the sand, and you know what? That diamond is not made of stone. It’s made of smiles, laughs, kisses, and a lot of love. Blake is my diamond in the rough, and I won’t let go. To say that he’s nothing more than obsession is appalling to me. What will I do now without you there to talk about the cool new stuff on Amazon? What will we do without you to support every birth, death, birthday party, and so on? Blake and I need to have some sort of support network, but it won’t be you, sadly, X. You’ve marked the spot so cleverly in my whole life, and you have little choice but to leave those big shoes at the door. I’m not even kidding. Blake has better shoes that fit better at all. It’s not the thing that bothers me the most, though. X, what bothers me the most is that you were not able to support, not neglect, me in high school. You allowed a person to hit me, too many boys to reject me like scum on the floor, and that Jason and Orien stuff? Really. I’m really mad that Jason and Orien didn’t take a look behind the blackened curtains. Dumb asses they both were, and Jason moved to San Francisco. I say, fine, you left your heart in San Francisco. I’m going to take a cable car around the city and find that little love bug and swish my swatter at it. The love bugs in Florida? I don’t miss them at all.
Oh, and here’s another person I want to turn my attention to: Orien Henry.
This may sound funny, but since you’re not on social media, I’m going to talk once and for all about what you should have done:
1. Why didn’t you just ask me out?
2. No prom night? Why?
3. I’m not unhappy with my current love, but Orien, I’m glad you didn’t even try to marry me. Why? Here’s why: you are a total loss of a man. You don’t know what you’re missing. Blake has found his diamond in the sand. I suppose he found his little princess. And yes, I’m sorry, Blake has me for a reason. We started out as friends, and I wanted to keep my distance from a romantic thing, but Blake loves me. HE hugged me in my old apartment once, and that was it I guess. He had a feeling I needed a hug. Blake has been there since, and he loves me like a sunshine or the rays of that sunshine loves the roses in the garden. With those kisses, that little seed in the dirt became a rose. I am the rose. Remember the old song?
With that done, I now turn my attention to my parents, though I can’t write anything. Well, just kidding. I will not turn my attention to them. Let’s just say I always have a spot for society.
First off, society is a total … bitch. Yes, a little bitch, and it doesn’t deal with the blind well. How many times has a blind person in any part of the world been bullied, abused, not allowed to do this or that because they are blind? What about the perception of blind equals diseased? Oh yes, that’s awful. In order to win me over, sicko society, you must change the way you view us. Stop calling anyone a snob because they think the blind world is best. Look, you sighted societal weirdos can get info with the blink of an eye. Blink. There’s your book. Blink, and there’s your stupid wedding dress, your tux, your jeans for school. Blink, there’s the pair of glasses you lost. And … yes, blink and look, there’s the eyes of a man or woman you love, and they blink back. Blink, blink, blink. Well, I’d like everybody to close and seal their eyes for a few days. Let’s take a challenge question: how would you like it if you had to touch your significant other? What about exploring that person’s body instead of looking? Do you want to get to know the person you love so much that you could eat them up? Do it without your blinking flashlights, ok? Oh, and try the blue Eyed exercise that the social work classes have us do in college. It was done by a white social worker in the South who wanted to demonstrate how oppression works, and then she says, “Imagine this kind of bad treatment happening to you every day.” Imagine if the tables turned on everybody, and light dependent weirdos were the minority. Imagine if too many people were crippled or unable to walk, no offense, and too many others were deaf, mute, etc. What if perfect bodies were not the norm? What would we do with this world? Imagine you couldn’t hear your lover’s voice singing to you in bed. Imagine you couldn’t even smell the roses, or walk the aisle. Imagine, imagine, all the impossibilities, and think of positive ways you could alleviate or ameliorate that pain of not being able to, right, Mr. Owens? Ameliorate: definition: to alleviate. Ok, that’s a good synonym for ameliorate. Well, the movie I watched was cool. But I must be going to bed.
Goodbye, Florida, your bugs of all weird shapes and sizes must go.
And most of all, goodbye, all the letters I wrote to Jason, and goodbye to the life I lost in Florida because of all the trashing comments people might have said.
I want to say I only have one friend, one person who was willing to help with stuff. I want to say that Ben Gaddis was the one and only man or woman from that darned town willing to help. Sorry, but I’m leaving the town behind for good.
Bye bye, St. T’s, and all the weirdness within.
Also, goodbye to Orien, goodbye to all the love bugs, the Fort Christmas field trip, whatever. Bye.
I’m not going to say see you later to an alligator. I will say, “After awhile will I ever see the crocodiles.”
Dear Titusville, Florida, 327 whatever,