Dec 2013
I remember when I didn't like your boyfriend and you said that I couldn't tell him I hated him anymore because he was important to you.
You were never apparent enough because you never told me that I wasn't.
The days always dragged on and we would commiserate on the lack of family.
We were never a family.
But it was always my fault, wasn't it?
Solitary nights, I found myself accompanied by the ticking of an alarm clock made of metal that wasn't quite as cold as your heart.
I spent those nights alone brainstorming efficacious ways to **** the pain but I never got too long of a list. Mainly it consisted of picking up a blade.
You never noticed the pencil sharpeners suddenly missing. You never noticed that I only wore long sleeves, even during the summer. Now that I think of it, you never really noticed anything. But I can't really blame you when you were never home to see it.
I remember wondering why you loved him so much. The scent of alcohol constant on his breathe, quick with his words like sharpened scissors. Your sword turned into a shield made of paper. Fire and fire, but I was the one who got burned. I never understood why he loved you either.
I remember when I came home from school and the boxes were stacked to the ceiling with his name printed neatly on the sides. I thought maybe you two had another fight, but it wasn't that at all. It was me.
"I can't deal with that for another four years!" he shouted.
It was ME...
But even when he left nothing changed. In fact, I think it got worse.
I remember screaming at you that you made me want to **** myself. I remember it because I was shaking, tears rolling down my cheeks. It was the first time I had ever verbalized something like that. And with such anger and pain, but mostly fear.
You didn't hit me though. You didn't pull my hair like I thought you might. Instead you grabbed your car keys and you didn't come home for awhile.
I remember sinking to the floor, back against the wall. I cried for a bit and held myself. Mostly because I knew you wouldn't. You never did. I never wanted much, but maybe I asked for more than you could give.
Every day in that house, I felt unwanted. Alone.
Unimportant. Unappreciated. Unloved.
You were never a parent enough because you never told me that I wasn't.
-k.d.
You were never apparent enough because you never told me that I wasn't.
The days always dragged on and we would commiserate on the lack of family.
We were never a family.
But it was always my fault, wasn't it?
Solitary nights, I found myself accompanied by the ticking of an alarm clock made of metal that wasn't quite as cold as your heart.
I spent those nights alone brainstorming efficacious ways to **** the pain but I never got too long of a list. Mainly it consisted of picking up a blade.
You never noticed the pencil sharpeners suddenly missing. You never noticed that I only wore long sleeves, even during the summer. Now that I think of it, you never really noticed anything. But I can't really blame you when you were never home to see it.
I remember wondering why you loved him so much. The scent of alcohol constant on his breathe, quick with his words like sharpened scissors. Your sword turned into a shield made of paper. Fire and fire, but I was the one who got burned. I never understood why he loved you either.
I remember when I came home from school and the boxes were stacked to the ceiling with his name printed neatly on the sides. I thought maybe you two had another fight, but it wasn't that at all. It was me.
"I can't deal with that for another four years!" he shouted.
It was ME...
But even when he left nothing changed. In fact, I think it got worse.
I remember screaming at you that you made me want to **** myself. I remember it because I was shaking, tears rolling down my cheeks. It was the first time I had ever verbalized something like that. And with such anger and pain, but mostly fear.
You didn't hit me though. You didn't pull my hair like I thought you might. Instead you grabbed your car keys and you didn't come home for awhile.
I remember sinking to the floor, back against the wall. I cried for a bit and held myself. Mostly because I knew you wouldn't. You never did. I never wanted much, but maybe I asked for more than you could give.
Every day in that house, I felt unwanted. Alone.
Unimportant. Unappreciated. Unloved.
You were never a parent enough because you never told me that I wasn't.
-k.d.
