The United States of Leland Monologues

A young man's experience in a juvenile detention center that touches on the tumultuous changes that befall his family and the community in which he lives.

Leland P. FitzgeraldIt covers my eyes. It's all I can see. Say there's some kids playing baseball. All I see is the one kid they won't let play because he tells corny jokes. And no-one thinks they're funny. Or I see a boy and a girl in love and kissing, you know. I just see that they're gonna be one of those sad old couples one day who just cheats on each other and can't even look at each other in the eye. And I feel it. I feel all of their sadness. I feel it probably even worse than that sad old couple or that corny kid will ever feel it.

It's funny how people only say that after they do something bad. I mean, you never hear someone say, "I'm only human" after they rescue a kid from a burning building.

And that's when I figured out that tears couldn't make somebody who was dead alive again. There's another thing to learn about tears, they can't make somebody who doesn't love you any more love you again. It's the same with prayers. I wonder how much of their lives people waste crying and praying to God. If you ask me, the devil makes more sense than God does. I can at least see why people would want him around. It's good to have somebody to blame for the bad stuff they do. Maybe God's there because people get scared of all the bad stuff they do. They figure that God and the Devil are always playing this game of tug-of-war game with them. And they never know which side they're gonna wind up on. I guess that tug-of-war idea explains how sometimes, even when people try to do something good, it still turns out bad.

The worst part is knowing that there is goodness in people. Mostly it stays deep down and buried. Maybe we don't have God because we're scared of the bad stuff. Maybe we're really scared of the good stuff. Because if there's no God, well, that means it's inside of us and we could be good all the time if we wanted. So when we do bad things, it'd be because we want to or because we have to. Or maybe we just need the bad stuff to remind us what the good stuff is in the first place.

Maybe it makes sense now. Maybe somewhere in all of this there's a reason. Maybe somewhere in all of this there's a why. Maybe somewhere there's that thing that lets you tie it all up with a neat bow and bury it in the backyard. But nothing, not getting angry, not prayers, and not tears, nothing can make something that happened unhappen.

You know what the funny thing about earthquakes is? After an earthquake you see people pulling other people out of broken down buildings and people hugging and junk because they saw a little girl's shoe in the middle of the road and no little girl around. Then a couple days later they forget all about it...

During earthquakes at least…

I think there are two ways you can see the world. You either see the sadness that's behind everything or you choose to keep it all out.

You want a why. Well, maybe there isn't one. Maybe… Maybe this is just something that happened.

When I say I don't remember that day, I'm not lying. I wish I did, but I just don't. Sometimes the most important stuff goes away. Goes away so bad it's like it was never there to begin with.

I know what they want from me. They want a reason. Something to tie up with a little bow and bury in the backyard. Bury it down so deep it's like it never happened. They want me to say how I'm so sorry, and it was my mom's fault. Or maybe it was my dad's fault. Or it happened because of TV or movies or some junk like that. Or maybe I blame some girl.

Do you have a normal radio in here for music?

I was just thinking that when you're parked somewhere waiting for a guy to speed, you'd want some music to help pass the time.

When I say I don't remember that day, I'm not lying. Wish I did, but I just don't. Sometimes the most important stuff goes away. Goes away so bad, it's like it was never there to begin with. It's funny the stuff that sticks in your head. I could tell you forward and backward about one day when I was five, and my dad bought me a stupid ice cream cone. I could tell you the flavor of the ice cream. It was pick bubblegum. Even stuff about the girl who scooped it out. Her hair was fire red. All that stuff is there like it was happening right now, but I don't remember that day.