Apologies are cheap. Anyone can say “I’m Sorry”, what’s not cheap is taking the person you hurt and pulling them in for a giant hug. Even if they fight you the whole way. Even if they’re crying and screaming that they hate you. Saying sorry is taking all those words and anger and knowing that you did something to earn it. It’s hugging them tighter and not letting go. It’s trying to fix it, even though you think there’s no way you could ever be forgiven. It’s trying even though it’s an impossible situation. It’s taking the pretty bandaid off the wound and sewing the gaping bloody hole shut.
Baby photos aren’t a thing for me. When I was a baby nobody cared enough to take any. So while everyone else has albums filled to the brim, I have none. The youngest photo I have is when I was three. And I already look like I carried the weight of the world on my shoulders. I have more pictures of my scars and bruises, than I do of my face.
Court is a main fixture in my life. Ever since I was little i’ve been going to court. I think the weird thing about it is nobody else knows. It’s always quite and hushed. Uncomfortable and stifling to sit in a room with adults who think that they know best. The court has made all the most important decisions in my life.
Dating….is hard. It’s scary and thrilling all at the same time. Always changing with no actual rules. What works for one doesn’t always work for the other. Kind of like parents.
Everybody has expectations, but nobody as high as mine. Nobody will ever fathom how high I have them of myself. Maybe if I lowered them I could relax and enjoy life, but I can’t, because lowering them would be giving up on a basic sense of self that I have.
First time for everything. That’s what she said to me as she locked the door behind me. That’s what bounced around in my head for the next 24 hours as I sat in my room and stared at the wall. And that’s what she said the next day. When I came to her crying, hoping he would be different. She had never done that before. She thought that I meant i’ve never been locked up before. She heard me wrong. Because that wasn’t the first time i’ve been locked up, for even less heinous crimes than throwing food on the floor. She didn’t know that with those 4 words, she was changing everything that I had thought made her different. And I cried every time I heard those words, because now she’s the exact same as them.
Gardening is gross. The dirt gets stuck in your hands. It creeps its way into your pores and under your fingernails. The leaves trail across my legs as I walk through the rows, leaving the feeling of unscratchable itchiness. I sweat harder with every weed I pull or flower I trim. The tomato vines. Engulfing me as I reach to get the red ones.
Hope is hard to find, but even harder to kill. Sometimes all you need is a little hope to make it through the next day. Sometimes you borrow your brothers hope or your neighbors. Sometimes it’s the stuff you scrape from the bottom of your shoe when you get home, Soemtimes it’s barely there.
Infections of the mind are the worst. My mother loved me, she just had a terrible time controlling her infection. The one that made her see things and drown me in my own bath. The ones that made her scream and cry and protect us from the devils we couldn’t see. The one she passed down to me and tried to break me with. Infections of the mind always lead to new ones and bigger ones, until your whole mind is just a ravaged infectious mess.
Joking was what she characterized that as. She said she was joking when she told me that she never wanted me, that she would give me back. That she hated me. When she judged my body harder than any of the girls at school ever did. Joking when she told me she loved me. It was a joke when I believed her. A joke when I said goodbye. Joking, when I walked away and saved myself. She thought it was all a joke. But the joke was on her cause now i’m gone, and I left her in a giant heap of broken jokes.
Kids aren’t playthings. They are real people with feelings and emotions. Kids have opinions and know more than the adults sometimes. I know I did. I knew what he was doing was wrong. I knew that it made me sick to my stomach. I knew and you didn’t believe me. So he continued and I tried everything. I threw up and ran away, I gained weight, I lost weight, I tried everything…. you didn’t stop him, you never did and here we are. So while his hands were down my pants and you turned your cheek, I worked on getting out. And now i’m stronger than the both of you combined.
Lilies symbolize death. I know cause I read a book about it once. They tell me I read too much, that I need to get out of my head. I don’t know why I would want to do that. Books are safe, books are home.
My Mother is the person I measure everything against. She’s the person I stop and think about about everytime I make a decision. I just wanted her to be proud, maybe to care.
Nobody knew. Maybe because I didn’t tell them, or I hid the scars strategically well. Maybe because the bruises were always covered by makeup. And my tears hidden in the darkness. Maybe I was to good at hiding it.
Oppression of the heart and mind are the biggest killers. They are the ones that kill you slowly and hurt your soul the most. It takes your spirit and crushes it under it’s mighty fist. But not to fast, it’s always slow in the beginning. It goes real slow, sneaking up on us at the most inopportune of times.
Parents are the people who define us. They shape our personality from the moment we are born to the day we die. Our experiences with them change how we look at the entire world. Which people we interact with, the places we go, the dreams we have. They give us everything from the color of our hair to our political beliefs, and that’s scary.
Quilts are the things that grandmas make for their grandbabies. I don’t have a quilt, because my parents didn’t let me talk to my grandparents. Because my parents have problems with everything. It’s fine though because they never really tried to see us anyway.
Running used to be a thing that I did everyday. I did it just to feel the pain. It was the only pain I could control. So everyday I laced up my shoes and ran the pavements whether it be raining or shine. I gave it my all until I got to sad to even run. And then I threw my whole life into food.
Suki and Bear are my dogs that i’ll probably never see again. Nanja is my own cat. Coco and Spooky are my guinea pigs. I will never have them again. I hope they are doing ok. I hope they remember me. I hope.
Theresa. She broke me. She built me. She shaped me. She loved me. She hated me. She saved me. She threw me away.
Uranium kills you slowly. It seeps into your skin and gets in your lungs. It poisons you and you never know it until it’s too late. It kills your cells. It ruins your life and you never know. And that’s what makes it deadly. Kind of like love.
Victory is leaving. It’s getting out safely with only a few scars. It’s helping the others along. Its changing their views, even if its only for a few minutes. Victory is learning to love again, to trust again.
Weibers is the person I found my joy in. He was mine and he loved me and then she took him away, and then he came back. She said never again, and he said forever. And I believed him.
Xylophones were what we played in middle school. I hated them, because I could never figure out the beats. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t pull it together. My heart beats faster and faster as my turn comes around and it will come because it always comes and nobody ever saves me.
You shouldn’t be sad. You should be happy, im happy now, it’s ok, i’m ok.
Zooming into the next life is a thing I want to do. I want to leave and forget everything. I want the whole world, and yet I want none of it.