Another Battle
Immediately after opening the door I regretted it. The
tension in the air was suffocating, and the quietness of
the house was near deafening. I could feel the silent anger
coursing through the hallways, and I knew somewhere deep
within a monster sat waiting to pounce. I’ve been in this
calm before; I know the storm that’s brewing; it’s
ingrained in my soul and resonates through my being.
My instincts told me to run, to get the hell out of there,
for I was the prey, I was in the path of the storm. I
turned to go, but stopped myself. The battle was inevitable
and the longer she sat there fuming the worse it was going
to get. If I waited too long, I couldn’t ever come back.
Besides, I couldn’t let my brother happen upon the beast, I
couldn’t let him get slaughtered as well. I took in a deep
breath and braced myself for what was to come.
With my heart pounding and my breath shallowing, I made my
way through the cold house, hoping she was only armed with
fists this time, and praying I’d find the strength to
survive not only the physical beating, but the much more
damaging psychological one as well.
I finally reached the base of the stairs and began to make
my way up despite the chill that caused my very soul to
shiver. The closer I got to where she was, the more my
knees and hands began to shake; I wasn’t sure I’d make it
up the ever more daunting stairs, but eventually climbing
the stairs was no longer the problem at hand. From the
landing, I could see her sitting in the worn, red chair
through the ajar door.
I crept towards her and stopped at the doorway. During
those few tense moments that I watched my disintegrating
foe from the hall, I began to feel sorry for her. Sitting
there with an exhausted posture and tear-stained cheeks,
she looked older and more helpless than I ever remembered.
I could see the high toll her tough life had taken on her.
She had probably been in the same position as I not thirty
years before. Some part of her knew that the way she
treated me wasn’t right, but that part is just as much a
victim of the monster as I am. I walked through the door
and stood there looking at her as she remained looking out
the window. Seeing her sitting like that made me want to
reach out in peace and give her a hug. I wanted to hold her
and tell her that I loved her, that the pain will go away,
that she will be alright someday. I was about to reach
out, but then she spoke; I recoiled and the war raged on.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
the picture of me
Picture of Me
Yesterday while waiting in the cold, corner office for the
person who by foul fate has become that which I call
mother, I spotted a picture of myself in the farthest
corner of the steel desk. It seemed so out of place among
the stacks of paper, in between the computer and the phone.
I tried desperatly to think of something else, but I just
kept coming back to it. Finally I gave up, but just as I
was about to pick it up, my mother's secretary came in.
"She'll be a little while longer; she's in a meeting with
an important client," she said pleasantly.
I nodded with a smile and she left, closing the door behind
her. There was always something more important. Once again
I found myself alone in that indifferent office. I glanced
at my watch and found that she was over an hour late, as
usual. I don't even know why I agreed to have dinner in the
first place, let alone why I showed up on time. I got up
with a sigh to look out the huge bay windows, but in the
darkness all I could see were the faint lights of the
distant city. Soon I found myself pacing, that's when the
picture once again crept into my mind. I sat down in her
cold leather chair and picked up the photo.
It was of my then best friend and me at my sixth birthday
party. I remember that day distinctly. It was hot even for
July. The intensely blue sky was filled with huge fluffy
clouds. The gardens were overflowing with flowers and the
scent hung in the warm breeze. All my friends were there
and we had an enormous water fight with water guns and
water balloons and hoses. It was an all out neighborhood
war. It was absolutely great! By the time we sat down for
cake, we were all completely soaked, but no one cared, it
felt good in the July heat.
I don't remember how it started or even quite how it ended,
but not even ten minutes into eating, a food fight broke
out. There was cake and icing flying everywhere, and
laughter filled the air. By the end of it, we were all
soaking wet and covered from head to toe in icing and
having the time of our lives. Here's where the picture
comes in. My best friend and I are standing there with
streaks of blue and white icing everywhere making faces at
the camera and giggling through our toothless grins. I
couldn't help laughing while looking at that picture. Back
then I was so carefree and silly. My sparkling eyes were so
full of life. Anything was possible. Back then I had hope.
Hope. I glanced down at my scarred wrists and the tears
began to flow. I had hope. With the tears flooded the
memories of the years to come. I tried to fight back them
back, but it was no use the dam had already broke.
That little girl would soon go through a hell beyond her
imagination. A hell so devastating that only now, twelve
years later, am I beginning to come out of it. I began
pounding the desk with my weathered fist.
"Why had it all happened? Why?" I shouted through my tears,
"How could you stare at this picture all day and do what
you did to me at night? How? Why?"
I stared at the photo and wanted more than anything to go
to her and warn her; I wanted to save her, but it was too
late. I threw the picture across the room. The glass
shattered and fell like fairies to the ground. I sat there
staring at the picture, shaking my head. It was too late
for I was her and she is me, and hell has already come
Yesterday while waiting in the cold, corner office for the
person who by foul fate has become that which I call
mother, I spotted a picture of myself in the farthest
corner of the steel desk. It seemed so out of place among
the stacks of paper, in between the computer and the phone.
I tried desperatly to think of something else, but I just
kept coming back to it. Finally I gave up, but just as I
was about to pick it up, my mother's secretary came in.
"She'll be a little while longer; she's in a meeting with
an important client," she said pleasantly.
I nodded with a smile and she left, closing the door behind
her. There was always something more important. Once again
I found myself alone in that indifferent office. I glanced
at my watch and found that she was over an hour late, as
usual. I don't even know why I agreed to have dinner in the
first place, let alone why I showed up on time. I got up
with a sigh to look out the huge bay windows, but in the
darkness all I could see were the faint lights of the
distant city. Soon I found myself pacing, that's when the
picture once again crept into my mind. I sat down in her
cold leather chair and picked up the photo.
It was of my then best friend and me at my sixth birthday
party. I remember that day distinctly. It was hot even for
July. The intensely blue sky was filled with huge fluffy
clouds. The gardens were overflowing with flowers and the
scent hung in the warm breeze. All my friends were there
and we had an enormous water fight with water guns and
water balloons and hoses. It was an all out neighborhood
war. It was absolutely great! By the time we sat down for
cake, we were all completely soaked, but no one cared, it
felt good in the July heat.
I don't remember how it started or even quite how it ended,
but not even ten minutes into eating, a food fight broke
out. There was cake and icing flying everywhere, and
laughter filled the air. By the end of it, we were all
soaking wet and covered from head to toe in icing and
having the time of our lives. Here's where the picture
comes in. My best friend and I are standing there with
streaks of blue and white icing everywhere making faces at
the camera and giggling through our toothless grins. I
couldn't help laughing while looking at that picture. Back
then I was so carefree and silly. My sparkling eyes were so
full of life. Anything was possible. Back then I had hope.
Hope. I glanced down at my scarred wrists and the tears
began to flow. I had hope. With the tears flooded the
memories of the years to come. I tried to fight back them
back, but it was no use the dam had already broke.
That little girl would soon go through a hell beyond her
imagination. A hell so devastating that only now, twelve
years later, am I beginning to come out of it. I began
pounding the desk with my weathered fist.
"Why had it all happened? Why?" I shouted through my tears,
"How could you stare at this picture all day and do what
you did to me at night? How? Why?"
I stared at the photo and wanted more than anything to go
to her and warn her; I wanted to save her, but it was too
late. I threw the picture across the room. The glass
shattered and fell like fairies to the ground. I sat there
staring at the picture, shaking my head. It was too late
for I was her and she is me, and hell has already come
to this day I still wake in the night to the feeling of
spider webs
across my face
shaking
terrified
that I'm still in that darkness
in which I'm still so afraid
that darkness I was forced
to bear
the coldness of the concrete
and the fear
to this day
I still wake in that nightmare
of so long ago
that nightmare that was real
how are you so sure I didn't deserve it?
that these in someways
still bleeding wounds
weren't deserved?
the threat of going back
was enough to keep me bent to a will
that was sick and twisted
I endured years of pain
years of believing
this is what real love is...
years of believing everything was my fault
is my fault
years of self-abuse
because I don't deserve better
and no one else seemed to treat me
the way I know I deserve.
that darkness
left me broken
left me feeling as if I had no control
and never would
that darkness
and the pain and power it represents
became an invisible shackle
so binding that I became a slave
to the monster in my mind
long after she had gone
but now that I see it
I have a choice
keep going
or free myself
spider webs
across my face
shaking
terrified
that I'm still in that darkness
in which I'm still so afraid
that darkness I was forced
to bear
the coldness of the concrete
and the fear
to this day
I still wake in that nightmare
of so long ago
that nightmare that was real
how are you so sure I didn't deserve it?
that these in someways
still bleeding wounds
weren't deserved?
the threat of going back
was enough to keep me bent to a will
that was sick and twisted
I endured years of pain
years of believing
this is what real love is...
years of believing everything was my fault
is my fault
years of self-abuse
because I don't deserve better
and no one else seemed to treat me
the way I know I deserve.
that darkness
left me broken
left me feeling as if I had no control
and never would
that darkness
and the pain and power it represents
became an invisible shackle
so binding that I became a slave
to the monster in my mind
long after she had gone
but now that I see it
I have a choice
keep going
or free myself
this house.
I know it's almost completely different than it once was
but the pain of it all
the memories
are still so strong
I can still feel them as if they were happening right now
and yet things in my current life
feel so surreal
how do I let go of a past
that in many ways feels more real than the present
I'm trying so hard to hold on to the love of now
the people that care about me
the good things
that are numerous in my current life
but it's so hard
when bad is so ingrained
I want so much to overcome
all of this
it's not my fault for what happened in the past
but it will be my fault if I let it ruin
the whole of my future
I gotta find a way
to let go and move on
I know it's almost completely different than it once was
but the pain of it all
the memories
are still so strong
I can still feel them as if they were happening right now
and yet things in my current life
feel so surreal
how do I let go of a past
that in many ways feels more real than the present
I'm trying so hard to hold on to the love of now
the people that care about me
the good things
that are numerous in my current life
but it's so hard
when bad is so ingrained
I want so much to overcome
all of this
it's not my fault for what happened in the past
but it will be my fault if I let it ruin
the whole of my future
I gotta find a way
to let go and move on
how am I going to move beyond all this past?
this all consuming past that still has its claws in me so tight.
the echoes of it all still torture me in the night
I need to move on if I ever hope to have a life beyond the abuse and pain. I need to move on if I ever hope to have a life worth living. I need to move on if I ever hope to be the person I want to be.
this is what's holding me back. this pain and my not letting it go
this all consuming past that still has its claws in me so tight.
the echoes of it all still torture me in the night
I need to move on if I ever hope to have a life beyond the abuse and pain. I need to move on if I ever hope to have a life worth living. I need to move on if I ever hope to be the person I want to be.
this is what's holding me back. this pain and my not letting it go
Saturday, August 11, 2012
I sit here at this computer
in this familiar chair
listening to the airconditioner
and the otherwise echoing silence
in this state of being alone
and I can't help wondering how I got to this place
where my heart feels both light
and too too heavy
I'm longing for the comfort and warmth
of another next to me
the safety and love that seem distant at the moment
all the memories of loves lost haunt me
on days like this one
I remember all the little things of each of you
that would make me unable to resist kissing you
I remember the times we laughed
until our ribs hurt and our minds were flooded
with oh so happy chemicals
but most of all I remember the quiet moments
of you next to me
simply existing with one another
the quiet moments when we let down our armor
and shared a vulnerability and intimacy
that most never knew of us
I think that's what I miss the most
I wonder if any of you still think about me from time to time
if I really mattered to you, the way you mattered to me
I must hold on to the reasons we're not together anymore
because there are reasons I should never even think about going back.
it's still hard on days like today
in this familiar chair
listening to the airconditioner
and the otherwise echoing silence
in this state of being alone
and I can't help wondering how I got to this place
where my heart feels both light
and too too heavy
I'm longing for the comfort and warmth
of another next to me
the safety and love that seem distant at the moment
all the memories of loves lost haunt me
on days like this one
I remember all the little things of each of you
that would make me unable to resist kissing you
I remember the times we laughed
until our ribs hurt and our minds were flooded
with oh so happy chemicals
but most of all I remember the quiet moments
of you next to me
simply existing with one another
the quiet moments when we let down our armor
and shared a vulnerability and intimacy
that most never knew of us
I think that's what I miss the most
I wonder if any of you still think about me from time to time
if I really mattered to you, the way you mattered to me
I must hold on to the reasons we're not together anymore
because there are reasons I should never even think about going back.
it's still hard on days like today
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