Crumbling Curiosity~ By Amber E. Williams aka HeartMeDontHateMe

Shit happens..

The tears sit in my eyelids, begging to be freed.

I could really use a friend, a shoulder, a drink.

It's like I'm stuck in a room, and there's my own personal tornado destroying shit, and its headed for me next, its headed for me next..

No one hears me screaming, no one calms my winds, no one gathers me in their arms and holds me tight, and kisses my forehead with promises of everything being alright.

"He's hurt." They said, "It's bad" she stressed, something was broken, everything was broken, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't free the tears that yelled at my eyes to just stop and squeeze. I wanted to be strong, I should be used to it, I was prepared for this..I thought I was prepared for this.. what the hell did he get himself into now, didn't he see what it did every time he pumped the drugs in.. couldn't he feel my pain, in every hurtful word I strained or the silence a question from him to me gained? I wanted to hate him for not choosing me over heroine, I tried so hard to be the heroin of our story. So many times I cleaned him up, covered his scars .. I couldn't take it anymore.

"It was two guys." I rubbed at my temples. "They beat him up pretty bad." I flinched. "Brass knuckles." she echoed.. My head was ringing, my fists clinched wanting to hurt whoever did this. Couldn't they see that he was old, he has a family: a daughter, two daughters, a grandson, a wife... people that cared whether or not he came home at night. Why didn't they just leave him alone.. He's not just some bum on the street, he only does it when he needs.. I know I sound crazy for making excuses, but in my world shit just happens.. can I really blame him for coping?

Coping this time almost got him killed, the neighborhoods aren't good with all the people doing deals, young boys playing as thugs when in reality they too probably would have been better with a few hugs, with someone that showed them love, but since that wasn't the case, they bullied the streets, caught him and brought him to his knees, all I keep thinking about is "Did he scream?" "Did he cry?" "Did our faces flash before his eyes?" I almost lost him.. got damn it, today I almost lost my dad again..

I hate this shit, I hate feeling like this, going through this, I hate that he's hurting. I hate that it happens, I hate that the police wont do shit because they know too, that in reality, in this messed up world of mine, shit happens all the time.

So I close my door, I turn on some sad song, I pull out my laptop and I type things down. Things I can't say, things that'll help keep the tears at bay.

This is what happened today: My dad got robbed.. two guys beat him to a bloody pulp, he's old and sick and he has an addiction problem, but he's still my dad, I still love him, and they had no right to try and take him from me.. I want to seek revenge, but I was raised better than that, so instead I knelt on my knees and prayed. He's alive, not really okay, but alive, and for that I know that I'm not totally alone in this, The Most High answered my prayer. So though it seems no one notices me and what my life seems to be, I see now, that he sees.. he sees all the shit that happens. I close my eyes and the tears finally roll down my cheeks, as I remember a verse In the scriptures that reads "Revenge is mine says Yahweh." I have nothing to worry about, they'll get theirs from my Father up above, for trying to take my earthly from me.

Is this story real? Well you'll never know, I guess it'll just be your crumbling curiosity.. Just know this, a writer always writes from the heart, everything has a bit of truth, some more than most.

-Amber