Notes from Overground: Part 1

Notes from Overground: A roommate in his own words.


The world is a sick sick place. How have I survived? It's a miracle to me, truly. The world has always been against me, has always struck me back but each time I have risen against it. Do you know why? Because I'm a fighter that's why and I don't let anyone, anyone stand in my way or stop me from being who I am.

I had been studying law. I'm 32 maybe 33 and I felt that I should do something with my life, after all, I'm as good if not better than all of these people who go on to make millions in the banks or at law firms but wait... I'm jumping ahead. I said I had been studying law, but that all changed. As I say, the world stands against you. But I am the hero of my own story, I am the hero of my own world and no one can take that away from me. Let's go back, I think it's 1977.

I was born in Portland Oregon, I believe so anyway, but at least if I wasn't, my family had moved there by the time I was five or six. I lived there with my mother and my sister. You'll notice that I don't mention a father at this point in the story but anyway... My mother was a devout Catholic and for a time she pushed for me to become a choir boy. I tried it... You see those dots I put there? They're there to imply things. I mean we all know the reputation of the Catholic church! I tried it for a while. I made my own version of the Catholicism; homosexuality and crucifixes on my own terms. You'd laugh if you could have seen me, I had long and I mean long dyed black hair and I was always off my face on something, on anything actually. But what else can you do as a teenager in Portland?

But I'm jumping ahead again. Let's see... I was fifteen when I really started drinking. My mum was living with another man then and well, he was my step-father I guess. From time to time we would visit a farm that was owen by a family friend and whilst the adults all sat inside gossiping me and a few of the other local children would sneak out to one of the barns and drink whiskey. When we were done we'd strip to our underwear and run out to the lake, completely drunk and half drowning. But you know, even though I went a bit wild with the other kids I knew that I held a privileged position, that my family did. I mean, not every family in the neighborhood would be invited out here for dinner but ours would.

What else should I tell you? Oh! I was a good looking. Am good looking!
I wasn't really surprised when I was picked up in my early twenties and some guy asked me to be a model. I just shrugged, sure, why not. It made sense to me. I moved to Milan, learned Italian and made unthinkable amounts of money. I lived like this for two maybe three years. I got used to seeing myself in magazines, on billboards and so on. I was pretty unfazed by photographers and photo shoots, I mean after all, wasn't I the reason they were all there?. I remember showing up drunk to a photo shoot one time and the photographer calling my agent later that day to complain. I called him straight back and said, what's the problem? You got the shots you needed didn't you? What could he say? They apologized. I always delivered. Always. But I'm rambling and losing myself. What was it I wanted to tell you... Oh! About the Nurse.

2. The Nurse

It was after the money had run out and the modeling jobs weren't so easy to come by. I had returned home to see my family. I wasn't too happy then. One morning I woke and found that I was lying in a hospital ward. I had tubes and pipes coming out of my nose and out of my arms. I was furious, I mean I'd never been so angry in all my life. I'll say it now, just as I said it then; I wanted to die. Whatever I had done I didn't want to be saved or to wake up like that. I ripped the tubes from my arm and threw myself out of the bed. My mother was there and she was crying and asking why I had done it. I lunged at her. I wanted to die! Why couldn't she see that? It was her fault I said, she had pushed me to this. It was then that a nurse stepped forward. She had dark brown skin and kind eyes and her voice was so soothing. She said, no, it's not your time, go back to your room. I calmed immediately and let her lead me back to my bed.

A week later when I was back at my mother's house I called the hospital to thank the nurse for saving me. As I didn't know the nurses name I described her to the lady on the reception desk. She was silent a while and then said, there's no one here that fits your description. I hung up the phone so slowly. I knew then that I had been visited by an angel.