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Saturday 5/14/11

Today was going to be a bad day. I could feel it in my head as my brain fuzzed and i stumbled, losing my balance. I could feel that anything and everything was going to either nauseate or irritate me. Luckily it was a weekend so, i didn't have to deal with rude people for most of my day, I thought. I sat down on the couch and rested my head in my palms taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. As if the universe felt i didn't have enough on my plate, in walks my dear mother. my face softens and no matter how hard i try i still can't be mad at her. I stand up, ready to help her to her post drinking position when i hear laughter. I wouldn't be so alarmed if it weren't for the fact that it was a deep, husky laughter that could in no way be my mothers. I whip my head a ninety-degree angle to see him. He got out of his vehicle and he might as well of had "drunk" written on his forehead because it was as clear as day that he was anything but sober. 

I could feel my hands sweat as my fingers curled themselves into my palm making a fist. I demanded answers and yet the only response i was getting from my mother was laughter. I nudged her to the side and stepped into the doorway. "There must be a misunderstanding mister, my mother is in no shape for company. Leave now please, and don't come back." I watched his face as it contorted into anger. He stomped up to me and gripped my arm as hard as he could. My eyes widen in fear as i look into his eyes. I search for anything but anger and i turn up empty. He spits in my face as he talks. "That is no way to talk to me, missy." I attempt to swallow the lump in my throat and nod quickly, terrified of what will happen if I don't. He smiles and roughly pushes me out of the way, and into my house. I stumble, but luckily catch myself before i fall on the ground.  

I walk into my house seeing the man that just scared me to death, kissing my mother, who's sitting on our kitchen table.  I had so many words, so many thoughts rushing though my head, so many things i wanted to yell at this man and my mother. I opened my mouth ready to unleash every word of anger that comes to my head, and yet suddenly i was balnk. It was as if my brain were a canvas and suddenly all the paint and meaning was washed awway. My mouth was dry and the lump in my throat was slowly suffocating me. I ran outside yet again, choking and asping for breath. I looked inside one last time, seeing them not even fased by my disapearence, and let. 

I did not bother to close my door as i began my light jog away from my house. i could feel tears brimming my eyes so, i titled my head back to stop the tears from falling. I ran to the only place i knew that i wouldn't be disturbed. I tugged my hood over my head and  walked down the streets f my own. I weaved into alleys and walked across lawns, trying to avoid everything because i knew that the tiniest little mistake, would push me over the edge. My hands were placed tightly in my pockets, gripping the seems as if my life was shattering and this was the only way to keep the pieces from falling. Flashbacks of my dad drifted into my head as i continued to job my way to my destination. 

The building was mad of old brick that had moss climbing up the sides of it. The roof was tattered and had many holes that allow you to see the sky through it. I opened the creaky door and stepped inside. the air was musty and you could tell that no one, but me hd been in this abandoned building, in a long time. I walked up the creaky steps to the bedroom of which had a chair. I remember how difficult it was to drag this chair from my house all the way here and into this room. It was well worth it though because it was positioned right under the biggest gap in the ceiling so, i could see the bright stars even on the darkest of nights. I sat in the chair sideways, curling my body into a ball and closing my eyes. 

I sat there for a while just waiting. Waiting for what is a question not even I understood at the time. I would just listen for my breath to make sure i was still alive and to remind myself that no matter how hard it is right now, I was still fighting. I wonder how my dad would feel watching the woman he fell in love with, have a drunken make-out session with a guy she barely even knew. Maybe he would understand, maybe he would try to have empathy for what she was going through without him. He could also be angry. Angry at her for giving up on life and in turn leaving me without a Father or a Mother. What if he was mad at me? Mad at me for not trying hard enough to save her from herself, mad at me for letting her destroy herself to the point of no return. I couldn't stop the tear this time as I thought about the possibility of my father blaming me for all that's happened after his passing.