I'd bet you may be scratching your head about the name. Well it goes without saying, but I'll say it anyways; it's a nickname. It was given to me by a dear friend of mine, Dan Yates. If you ever have the chance to meet him, take it, you won't regret it. Anyways, this story is about me, not him.
I was born in a little town called Oklahoma City (I can assume you are all rolling your eyes by now...don't worry I won't go on and on about the good ol'days, because they were GREAT and noone wants to know about when life was simple and baggage free- people want the carnage, the dirt, and the tears that create a person that can be named BoomKat Francis.
I've just had my 25th birthday and I would have to claim my teens the most drama ridden years so let me start their.
I wouldn't say that I had a drug problem, I was recreational and experimental. It first started with crack-laced marijuana. Don't judge! I was 15 and I had never, honest as the stars above, I had NEVER done a drug before in my life. I was given the idea by a relative. I'll keep her identity private, after all this is my story, it's not the relative's story. Family was in town for my brother's high school graduation and I had a sense of loneliness and out-placed-ness (that's not a word, but that is exactly how I felt). All eyes were on my brother, I don't know why I felt especially left out, I should have been used to all eye on him, they had always been on him, he was the troublesome son; I was the quiet, shy, moody younger child: sweet but needy.
The night needed a little more mischief as far as my relative was concerned, and I had a naughty best friend. C'mon, we've all got at least one in our lives. She or he is the one that creates your left-shoulder devil that represents your desires and opposes your right-shoulder-angel that symbolizes your conscience and all you were taught in life that was wholesome. I will call her Abby (not real name).
Abby got her little rebellion style from her best friend/ older sister, lets call her Sam. Sam had a Bo. This bo was named Beau. Great, I know. Sexy, yes, to my little teen heart, my god yes. Beau was notorious for dealing. He scared the shit out of me. I was terribly attracted to this boy, but he stood for all the things that my brother, the fuck-up, fell victim to. He was the vice operator and my brother the one in the trap. But I digress. He was sexy, scary, blah, blah, blah. He had the drugs, said relative and friend were game, and little BoomKat Francis in training was in it to prove that her little goody-goody side was falling to the wayside.
Funniest thing about this is, I threw up. Abby's score turned out to be laced and that was on top of the fact that I had worked my nerved up into such a frenzy that the combination was vomit-bound without mercy. I inhaled from the one-hitter (after asking a million questions pertaining to How I was to "Hit" it), my head felt dizzy, like I had held my breath too long, blew the thick smoke out of my lungs and ran full-throttle to the bathroom- luckily, we were living in comfortable means in those days and I, as well as my brother had our own rooms with private bathrooms and walk-in closets.
That would have to be the turning point a pivot really, a dime turn to the dark side. I continued with the fear of being caught but had the odds on my side that anything that I did would not have been half as bad as my brother. He was a test to any parents skills. He was combative. He was hyper. He was an addict. He had been beaten up for drug money, if you ask me he asked for it when he became friends with the 'naughty' crowd, Let me see; what else did he get himself into? Ya know, I have no real evidence of what he did; I only saw the repercussions. Big brother was sent to Rehab for his alcoholism. I would have to ask how old I was when that happened because, to be honest with you, I really can not recall; it feels so distant from me now.
My things were stolen from me, money, jewelry (yes, I had nice jewelry at age eleven, wanna fight about it?), clothes, movies. Brother had some shit holes of a friend circle; incidentally enough, they are alcoholics too, balding, unsuccessful, and living in a town that is notorious for meth labs. Don't you just love lower class Oklahoma? Catch Phrase: Nowhere, Oklahoma, come join our passion for handicapping our youth by poor education, lack of open minds and contraceptives; home of the unwed- listless pregnant teenager; Come, enjoy our(Blank).
Wow, who knew I could be so proud of my state? I sure didn't. Oklahoma does have its good points. I did have a few good opportunities that were wasted upon me due to my depression. Oh yeah, my brother is a huge influence on that. Ya, see, he was accused of something- I'd rather not go into it; He has suffered enough (by his own doing) and the story of my life would become a little too much for me to relive if I delve too deep. His- I will refer to it as his "situation"- was something in need of so much attention that it drew my mother and father away from me. I had free reign of our comfortable means, without parental supervision, because they were 3 hours away in a courtroom- eating fast food and living most of their days in transition. My supervision was an 18 year old girl with a boyfriend that would come and stay from time to time. He had a drug/alcohol addict personality as well- go figure. Instead of planning my future for a better life, I would spend my days worrying about my brother, my family, and my inability to focus. It was too bad that I had all that freedom and no boobies to lure young boys to my lair. Uninhibited, I wish. I never had that kind of personality. I'm a worrier. What a waste.
I look back now and wish I had focused. I look back and wish that my folks had made me go to tutors and made me get my basics out of the way so that I could really have a shot at figuring myself out. Now I'm 25 and I am still curious.
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