Sincerely October

Rainy Septembers

A miscellaneous chapter.

Where do I put it down?
One day I will run out of things to say about it, one day I will reread this and realize that I got it all out of me, that it doesn't live within me anymore, but that day is not today.
Sometimes something reminds me of it and a few tears crawl down my cheeks.
I thought I was going to die that day, I thought I was going to die in my bed before ever growing up and I'll never forget that.
I told him to stop and he never listened. At some point one gets tired of trying. I almost feel guilty because I stopped fighting it, what else was I going to do?
I didn't like it. I never did. He didn't care.
I am tired of talking about it. I am tired of writing about it because there are only so many ways I can say it.
I still feel so small. I stare at the floor because right now I am almost waiting for it to happen again.
I don't want to think about it anymore but I do.

Regret on my breath
When left to pick up the pieces I am left to reflect on my past self with anger.
I knew better, I always did.
I didn't think drugs would hurt me but I am like everyone else.
In moments passed I did things I thought were okay, I did awful things without a twinge of guilt on my breath.
I'll stop over dead bodies if it means I can get high. I'll dispose of people who stand in my way. I'll do anything I need to do to get high. Don't put it fucking past me.
I didn't care until I was separate from it, I didn't see that I was awful until it was over.
I carry the weight of my guilt everywhere I go, each story asking me why I didn't treat people better, why I wasn't better.
I thought nothing bad would come of it but over six months has passed and I'm still hallucinating, reality folds in on itself.
I think the worst part of it is knowing I got a taste of something I'll never feel sober.
Even if it's plastic and hollow nothing compares to it.

A letter to God
I know I can't go back to that, so I write a letter to God.
I tell God about how I need help to stay sober, that I can't do this on my own, God I know this is not what I want, please help me believe that.
I tell God about all the awful things I did, I tell God that more than anything I never want to be like that again. God believe me I want to be a good man.
God I don't know what I am supposed to do, I know what I am not supposed to do, but I don't know where to go from here.
God I don't know what I want, God I don't know if what I want is worth wishing for, I don't know if what I want is something I'd ever like to have.
God I don't know what I am supposed to be, so please, help me become the person I should be.

Believe me
I didn't want it. I never did, you know that right?
I know it's disgusting but it wasn't my fault.
He never listened, I tried to stop him.
I was doing what I deemed necessary to survive.
I never wanted him to touch me like that.
I knew it was wrong from the start.
I stopped fighting because it never worked, not because I liked it.
I know this is not normal. I know this is not how a family functions.
I didn't say anything because I couldn't.
It wouldn't have happened if he would have listened to me.
I froze because I didn't know what else to do.
I know this is not how things are supposed to be.
Don't act like this is the same thing as someone being misguided, he knew better and he didn't care.
It's disgusting but I'm not disgusting.

I died that day
I remember crying because I couldn't walk away from it like I used to, I had always been able to disconnect but that night I was sitting in the bed and I felt all the pain he forced upon me.
Hot tears dripped down my face and for the first time in years I was crying, I had gotten good at not crying, I had gotten good from walking away from my body as he raped me, but today I was in that bed and sobbing because this hurt.
He didn't like that.
I remember when he started choking me and I had to sit with the thought that I was going to die today. I am not going to make it, aren't I?
I won't get to do all the things I want to do. I won't get a chance to be anything. This is it, welcome to the end of your life.
Part of me died that day, something in me is still frozen in being eleven years old and accepting that today is the last day of my life.
This is it. I hope you enjoyed your time here because it's all over now.
I remember being fourteen and sitting in his car asking myself the same questions. I remember being fourteen and wondering what he was going to do with my body. I remember being fourteen and wondering if anyone would ever find me.
I sat in the car as he yelled at me and waited for the moment he drove off the path. I was in the passenger's seat and imagining how he would do it.