Never Grow Up

May 13, 2013
I’m sitting here in the quiet room alone. I can’t help but wonder about what could have gone wrong. I keep telling myself ‘She just fell.’ How could I do this? My mother- her and I had our issues. We’d fight and she’d punish me and I’d scream at her. God how she angered me. I stare down at my fists. They’re so plain. How could such plain fists cause so much pain? How could I do this to my own mother? How could I be such a terrible daughter? She’s all I had. She’s done everything for me. I should have listened to her. I should have not argued. If I wouldn’t have argued then we would have ever fought and she wouldn’t be in the hospital. I wish this never happened. I wish I was a better daughter. Over and over I tortured myself with my own self hatred. Over and over I tried to calm my shaking, but nothing helped. Nothing calmed me down, and nothing could ever make me forgive myself for what I have done to my mother.

After what seems like eternity I finally hear the footsteps of the doctors sure stride. I jump at the sight of his exhausted visage. “Doctor, is she alright?”

His head drops and his eyes shut. I’m impatient at this point. “Doctor! Is she alright?!” He glances up at me then quickly drops his gaze to the plain tiled ground. I sharply glare at him. “Doctor! Tell me what is wrong with my mother!”

Finally he responds. “Audrina . . .” He begins with a sigh. “Your mother- she was a very sick women. She fell hard. She.. was very broken.” I was just irritated now. I gave an exasperated sigh until he continued hesitantly. “Audrina. Your mother is dying.”

I fell back in my seat. The world started spinning around me fast and faster every time I tried to take a breath. Then I pushed out the words despite the fact I was afraid of the answer. “Can I speak to her?”

He kneeled in front of me obviously concerned. He nervously called a nurse to bring me water. 15 seconds later he was shoving a big glass of water into my hands. “No!” I screamed Chucking the glass of water at the ground. The Glass shattered at my feet into a million sharp blades. I saw my blood spread into the water splashed on the ground. My blood, my pain, painting pictures on the white tile floor. Nurses rush over to tend to me but I push them away and once more force the question out. “Doctor! Can I speak to my mother?!”

I hear the doctors voice shake. “She’s already passed, Audrina. She’s already passed..”


I was sitting on the cold pokey grass. The wind swaying the grass as if dancing at her grave. She had lived longer than the doctor had expected but shorter than anyone wanted. My father had been at her funeral but he was too coward to speak to me. My father IS a coward. He glanced at me every once in awhile as if waiting for me to disappear, hoping for me to not be real. What makes me hate the coward the most is that he didn’t even cry. He just sat in the back listening to everyone else mourn. He makes my stomach twist.

I usually just ignore my father when he comes around but I couldn’t this time. In exactly three days I will be living in his crappy little condo with him. I’m enraged at the thought of having to be near the coward. But, I had no say in where I would go. They said, and I quote, “a 15 year old ought to be with her biological father, not some stranger!” I guess they didn’t know that my father WAS stranger.


I’m sitting in a crappy little room in a crappy little condo glaring at my coward father. I had just arrived 15 minutes ago but I refuse to allow any noise to escape. I sit and sharply glare at him through hatred filled eyes. I see him squirm awkwardly under my gaze. “Audrina . . .I’m sorry about your mother.”

The sympathy and truth that that statement lacked makes me even more disgusted in him. I turn my head trying to avoid looking at this coward. I hear him sigh and despite the hatred and anger I feel I find a slight satisfaction in his desperation in the situation. “I really hope you feel better. I have to work early in the morning I’m going to bed. Good night.”

He stands there waiting on my response. After almost a minute he finally realizes that my response isn’t coming and he slowly turns and walks into his crappy little room. Before he shuts the door he whispers, “Ah, Audrina I hope you never grow up.” Then he shuts the door. I didn’t know what he meant by that but I honestly couldn’t care less.

It’s night time. I feel all alone. usually around this time my mom would come out of her room and talk to me. We’d talk about life, boys, school, pretty much anything. I miss our old talks. I miss my mom. She was my everything. I would do anything to have her back. I would do anything to take back everything I said to her the day she died. I would do anything to rid myself of the guilt. I’d do ANYTHING.

Right then I got a sudden idea! If my mom can’t be alive with me, than maybe I could be in heaven with her! I smiled at that thought. Who needs this cruel world anyway? Who needs this piece of crap coward in their life? My father walked out on me. I’m done with him. I hope he lives forever so I never have to see him again. I quickly put on my coat and shove a knife in my pocket. I left a note out for my father. It was a poem.

Father . . .

I wasn’t anything, You had no idea who I would be
But It didn’t matter did it? Because to you there was nothing to see
I grew up lost, I grew up without the guidance others receive
And now as a coward you’re dead to me. And no I did not grieve
You’re a lost shadow, an old forgotten stare
You hid from reality you coward! You’re gone and she wondered where?
Are you dead? Are you happy? Did you ever say goodbye?
Did you hug me? Would you love me? Will I meet you before I die?
So go ahead and live you no good coward. Go ahead and run from what’s true
Hurry and get ahead of reality “Dad” Or it’ll catch up and bite you
Now let me put you in my past. Let me put you out of my mind
You’re nothing important. now stop and press rewind
I’d hope if you could you’d do it differently. But you didn’t so This’s what I need to say
You’re a coward. You’re dead to me. Just one more person that’s too weak to stay

As I write the poem tears stream down my face. But, I won’t give myself time to regret what I’ve written. I won’t give myself time to feel any sympathy for a man who never gave sympathy to me.

I quickly run out the door. I run as fast as I’ve ever ran before. It’s so freezing outside I can’t feel my fingers. Every time I take a breath my lungs ache. My eyes are dry with the cold but my heart continues to bleed out the pain. I keep running and running. Faster and harder with more determination building with every step I take.

Finally I reach the cemetery. I finally reach my mother’s grave. I fall on my knees and begin to sob. “Mother.” I whisper, “I love you. I miss you.” I’m shivering in the cold as I messily reach into my pocket for the knife. It’s such a dull knife. I take a deep breath and wrap my fist around the knife tightly. ‘I’m done. I’m done. I’m done.’ That’s all I can think. I pull my arms back and and give all my anger and strength into my fist. The knife breaks through my chest. The pain is unbearable. I can see the blood but I can’t feel it dripping down my chest. I can’t feel anything but the pain. I take a breath and cough. I can barely breathe. I lean on my mother’s grave and push my hand to the gash in my chest. I begin to feel dizzy and grow so weak I can’t hold my hand up any longer. I fall hitting my head on my mother’s tombstone. I close my eyes and the world goes dark. ‘I’m done.’

Audrina’s father found Audrina the next day. He had read the poem and called the police. When Audrina’s body was found, there was a note in her bloody fist. The note read ‘Rest in Piece, Died for love. Now she’s living up above.’ The same words were engraved into her tombstone, right next to her mothers.


I look up to my therapist, she looks dumbfound my the story. “What do you think you could learn from these events?” She asks, stumbling to find the right tone to speak in.

“I learned that hate is bad. Running your life off of your hate is wrong and gets you no where. Why would we even need to have hate? What’s the point of it? There is no point. My daughter and her mother fought and her mother fell. My daughter’s mother died while anger was pulsing through her blood. That’s no way for someone to die.” As I say this, I finally feel tears run down my cheeks. I finally let those tears I’ve held back for so long out. “And my daughter.. I never even told her I loved her. She hated me and that was no way to feel for your family. I regret everything I did. I regret everything I DIDN’T do. The only thing that keeps me sane is that I know that I regret everything. I know that I would do everything differently, and I know that if Audrina were here, I’d do everything in my power to make it okay for her. My life will always be filled with regret. I will always regret running my life off of hate because that was no way to live. I guess hate just comes with growing up. I wish I’d never grown up...”

Every week I’d go to their graves. I’d bring the brightest flowers I could find because no one could ever hate bright flowers. Every time I’d set the flowers down, I’d smile. No one could ever hate a smile. And every time I had to leave I’d whisper, “I love you.” Because everyone deserves to feel loved.

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