melancholia ✔︎

welcome to my family

I sleep. Lost in the world of dreams. I dream I was happy. Everything in my dream was perfect. Flawless.

Everything was just like the opposite of the hell I'm living in.

And in that dream of mine, that night, I wasn't depressed.

I wasn't lost.

In pain.

Crying.

Sad.

* * *

My mother is dead. Did I mention that before? Well she is.

She died three years ago.

Three years ago. I was thirteen. I thought nothing like that would ever happen to me, but it did. It really did, whether I could accept that or not.

Tragic. Sad. Over. Gone. Dead. Dead. Dead.

She died. I cried. We mourned. And were never the same.

It was something everyone knew about. The presents were all for pity. Everyone was nice to me. The principal knew my name. I went through several counsellors and therapists. Everyone felt sorry for me but I just pushed them away.

How did they not understand that so many sorry's will never ever bring a mother back alive again?

She died in late September, when the sun began to cool and October soon was so roll around. My grades drastically dropped, changed completely. The old me was lost.

I was no longer Amy, the star student with the amazing grades that everyone praised. The As disappeared, the Cs and Ds became more frequent and I was lucky to fish for a couple Bs.

I was no longer the girl with her little book clique of friends who went for sleepovers and went shopping at the mall. No longer the girl who painted her nails the colours of the rainbow and wore crazy jewellery. No longer the girl who ate lunch at the corner of the cafeteria where she played cards with the students two years older than her.

It all changed. I lost my friends, my grades, my family, everything.

My father is an alcoholic. He drinks too much and is never home. I know that the living room is his haven, and he keeps the empty bottles under the couch. I count them when he's not around. They never count up on my fingers. I know he hides his cigarettes and pot in the bathroom cabinet, because he thinks I'll never look there. I know he spends all his money on alcohol and cigarettes, forgetting about everything else. Including me. Me, his daughter. Water bills, electricity bills, everything... Just forgotten.

And when he's sober, I wish he wasn't.

Because he's hurting. I'm hurting.

And I guess that makes us clash, as we were only connected by someone who's now gone.

He quit his job a year ago. Said he's giving up. On everything. He told me, when he was sober, that it was pointless, everything he lived for was lost. So there was no point of him working to achieve something he never wanted.

I guess he really loved her, more than the sun and moon and stars, more than anything he ever loved. And it was cruel, the way she was ripped, torn out of our family just like that.

She was the structure holding us up. Holding us together.

I'm their daughter lost in the pandemonium of her mind, consumed by dark emotions and depressed.

Welcome to my family. Isn't this such a happy place?

(editing is in process, it's really slow but I'm trying to do it as fast as possible. Please understand! The ones with the word titles are fully edited. Thanks!)