Burning Abandonment

December 8, 2011
By , Charlotte, NC
She woke up in the morning with a splitting headache. “Get up, get out of bed!” her father said, but she couldn't hear for the sound of her heart pumping was too loud. She had a system to get through the morning. Grab hair tie, put hair up, stumble towards bathroom, brush teeth, wash face, examine eyes. This particular morning was most difficult because it was a Monday. The weekend was a blur. She couldn't remember anything, only that she was happy. Friday night she went to someone's house with the intention of trying to forget everything that happened in the past week. An unattainable state in her life was attainable when she mixed alcohol with a certain plant from Asia. She could be herself and let go of the stone wall that she was holding as a shield at all times. Familiar faces from her childhood would not even be able to chip the stone, in her normal state. She was her own soldier, protecting her fortress, watching, guarding, fighting. Over the years, though, she became accustomed to the poison and trained herself not to be affected by it. Now, there was nothing that could keep her unaware of how horrible her life was. Boys would come up to her and get what they wanted. She needed the attention, and this was the only way to get it.

She inherited the same characteristics as her mother. Her mother left when she was a little girl to go smoke weed and forget about the difficulties in life in a Tennessee trailer park. She was abandoned and unloved, and worse her father would bring home a different woman every week. She would be toted around and dropped off to different peoples houses so that her father could get his human satisfaction. She grew up finding a different black dress in her fathers closet every week. She would try to impress him by trying to be a perfect child, but after a while it became an exhausting escapade that led to nothing but quick fake smiles and being dropped off at the next persons house.

Her personality was always strong. She included everyone and had a great ability to recognize pain like her own. Her voice was beautiful and she sang like an angel. Her ability to love was limited. She was given little so she was conservative with how much she gave. Then she entered an age where being different is bad and looked upon as a disease. She transformed herself by stripping away the things that defined herself as an individual and built up another wall. Only a few could reach her. Her closest friend, with whom she told everything to and depended on for real love and attention, was able to penetrate the first wall. They were inseparable and loved each other very much. This friend would have sacrificed her life for her but the girl would not have done the same.

This morning she woke up her head hurt. The night before she smoked some weed but the pain did not go away. She was immune. She went into the shower grabbed her razor and started scrubbing at her wrists. Blood was gushing out and her entire body was burning. She turned the water on in the shower and it started to seep into her gashes. It burned and burned and burned all of her sadness. She forgot. The pain from life and being ignored and unloved went away. Yes! She had found another drug to use, another addiction. This went on for weeks until one friend noticed. She too was run down by the horrors in life, and so the two of them did this painful act together. They added on a third and had a cult of three girls who were depressed with their lives. By this time the sacrificing friend had drifted apart from the girl. They spoke very little and led completely different lives. But she felt the need to tell her what she had been doing. Subconsciously she wanted someone to know, someone to stop her, someone to love her. She lifted up her sleeves and the friend closed her eyes in horror.





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