"Today, however can change things for better or worse. The outcome depends on you."
When a marriage fails the residue trickles down to everyone in the family. Sixteen-year-old Daya Nicole Johnston must fight to understand what is happening in her li...
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Day Four - December 6, Thursday
Dear Dad, am I being fair? I think that because of your actions, I am unjustly accusing all men of being the same. I can't trust them. They make big shiny promises and make you feel safe for only a moment's notice.
Because, once you think they want to help you, that they want to love you, they take all of that away. They leave you wondering, what did I do wrong? Is this my fault? Sometimes they can even make you believe things that aren't true like, he'll take care of me. It's my fault though. If this is what love looks like, I don't want any of that, not anymore.
Are you ruining me, Dad? Is it possible that I could go the rest of my life viewing the opposite sex that way because you decided that you could not keep your promises? What a terrible life that would be for me. And guess who I would blame for that?
I awoke for the second morning in a row wrapped up in my mother's arms. She was warm, but not like she had a fever. More like a cozy. Like I'm giving you all my body heat, so I can make sure you're okay, type of warm.
She believed that it was her sole duty in life to take care of her children. I wished that taking care of us wasn't such a stressful thing in her life. But I couldn't be more grateful for all that she's done for me, even when I felt undeserving.
There's no denying that women's love is not just for us but for everyone. I aspired to possess her qualities.
Looking over at her, I could see the worry lines splattered across her forehead. Her bob-style blonde hair was a mess. Her mouth was frowning and even though she was still asleep, her dire mood was tangible through the air between us.
I felt my eyes becoming misty as I snuggled closer to her. If I didn't know any better, I would say that she squeezed my back softly.
A few minutes went by as I brought myself closer to falling back to sleep, and then I heard my door creak. My body was turned away from the door, and my breathing quickened. I assumed the worst as I tried to calm myself down and pretended to be asleep at the same time.
Falling asleep proved difficult for me, but pretending to be asleep. Well, that wasn't a skill I was a pro at either. Especially, with having anxiety, I felt like everyone was going to know that I was faking it and I would just embarrass myself.
"Day, Mom, are... are you up?" I knew it was my brother whispering from the second I heard the first syllable.
Slowly, I peeked my head up from my mom's shoulder and tried to untangle myself from her embrace without waking her.
After a few seconds, I irreversibly got in a sitting position and tried to balance my weight, so the bed wouldn't squeak as I got out of it. I edged towards the door. When I crossed the barrier from my room to the hallway, I inaudibly closed the door behind us.
