It was irradiating at best. To watch my days go by through my hands knowing I was the only one who could do anything about it, but I cared more about the stick of rolled leafs I had to hold instead that helped me sleep at night. That's how I spend most of that summer. Wake up, coffee, eat, go for a walk with stolen cigarettes, come home, watch tv, rolled leafs, stare at the ceiling till my arms and legs felt like weights and the floating feeling eased me into sleep. Wake up and repeat. I was born with asthma, it had eased up as I'd gotten older, but being in that trailer and my self medication practices soon made it come to bite me with vigor. Even as my inhaler ran low and barely gave me anything to work with I did nothing to improve myself. I struggled for air for two days before going to get a new one, it felt like holding a personal savior in my pocket, a push back against my own selfish habits.
Though managing still I had a desire for more, it felt like some control was given to me over my own self in the form of a rolled paper or a stick of tobacco. Looking back I suppose I don't regret finding out what that something more did to me when taken, given had I taken it anywhere else only god knows what could have happened to me. That said I would have no way of saying for sure nothing happened that night either. The morning after is a blur, a few in and out memories of stumbling, walking into the table, wobbles to the car, the question ringing out from my mother "did you take something?" Of course I denied it even if later I admitted it to her, and of course she probably knew I was lying then. If it wasn't for the car tire being flat that morning i would have walked my train wreck into school, to this day I thank that tire for its faulty air.
My story has holes in it, I lost having a good track of time a long time ago. Most of the time I can't even tell you what day it is, I just wake up and go without giving the thought of time a concern other then the means to not get my privileges taken away from me. For a good chuck of my life it's as if I have only sat in the husk that's my body, never quite filling in the shape. My body moving through the days as if a machine on autopilot while I sat and watched the events before the screens of my eyes. This made it all the easier to not care for the habits harmful to my body, because really everything came in to me as a numbness, I knew it wasn't the full pain. I could still feel it, the thickness in my lungs, the sore feeling on my hips as I shifted in my bed or pulled on jeans, the headache I've had for days, I could feel these things but only as a slight sore that felt farther away from me than it really was.
While at first I hadn't fully took notice to that feeling, I had started to embrace it, letting my body do the work as mentally I played out movies, plays, re-enactments of events, etc. my music began to be a setting, putting the mood for these, or would have a story built around it completely. Clearly this became a problem as well, before that summer and after I had basically had earbuds in all the time only taking them out when I absolutely had to. Sometimes I have to listen to old playlists just to pull the memories back out of the mental fog that blocked them from haunting me in the day to day of my life. Teachers hated it, my mom would get mad over how loud it'd be, people stopped talking to me.
Still it wasn't enough, I wanted to walk though my existence was nothing more then a person you see a glimpse of in a hallway and that by the start and end of knowing me. I didn't want to have to hold up the standards and expectations that were put on my shoulders every other day. I didn't want to have to show up to things because people would notice if I didn't. I didn't want to be bothered, talked to, looked down on, pitied for my life. So I stopped talking, never being honest on my life other then what people could see, lying to family, the one time question by a teacher, made excuses for why I could never go out. Eventually I ignored my phone completely other then for music and writing. The notifications piled then stopped, people didn't keep trying, I guess making their own assumptions and leaving it to that. Finally I had what I wanted, when i would go up the road on a walk finding the fallen tree in a clearing and lay down, the sweet blissful silence of the world around me with no one to ruin it or cut it short.
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My Mother's Door
General Fiction"I watched my mother destroy herself, and now I watch as i slowly do the same. The sins have been done and cold blood stains my hands, where do I go now?" An experiment of a story on my part, tags and description may change up a bit till I get a sol...
