Hatred

 I'm walking down the alley to my house as it rains. My favorite song to listen to at this point in my day, in this weather especially, is "Blue in Green" by Miles Davis. I'll take my time walking in the filth covered path, observing all of the trash people put around their garage. 
 One yard has a broken down pontiac in its back yard. Another has several deflated kitty pools , amongst other things, in a garage that has been open everyday for as long as I can remember. This is a shit hole.This is glorified poverty.This is Jefferson park.
 Puddles that form in-between cracks and potholes are an open forum for gasoline, dead rats, and dog shit. It sounds, and is, disgusting. However, there is a beauty to it. As raindrops fall into the puddle, the street lights flicker against them, making them look like the flashbulbs in the stands of a world series game. 
 This is the alleyway of a lower-middle class, largely immigrated, neighborhood.It is not overly violent, I do not fear going home. I do not feel that this place is something to be proud of, however. We could make it better, but nobody seems to care enough to do so.
 So I must ask, why? Why do I come back here everyday? There is no benefit to this place. I am not doing this to attain something better. I am literally just waiting. I am waiting to leave for college, and eventually the country.I hate it here. Even the beauty of it, I hate. I hate that it has any positive qualities at all.