Everyone has seen a different version of me and I really wish it wasn’t that way. The quiet girl who doesn’t say anything and just sits there observing. The girl who can be loud and annoying but doesn’t care about it. And all different versions in between. No one knows exactly who I am and really neither do I but I’ll get there some day and I hope you get to meet that girl too. There’s this problem that I have. Because there is this little other version of me that I carry that no one as seen except for a few. I really wish I could block it out but every time I get yelled at every single thing resurfaces. And if you don’t know what I mean by that I mean my childhood along with my parents divorce. I could do on forever about it so I’ll try to cut to the point. But there is a version of me where I’m in a box and I can see and hear everything outside but no one outside can see or hear me, nor do they wonder where I am. I was 9. One of the bedroom doors got kicked in because one parent locked the other one out. The screaming and yelling. This is one of those storms I was talking about. Then came the food throwing. I went to my corner in fetal position for my comfort and I watched and then all of a sudden it came to my Pringle’s. No. Not my Pringle’s they are my favorite. It seems so silly now to be upset over chips. But I was in the corner crying and now yelling. Begging “no!” But I was ignored. Did they even hear me? I must have been in a glass box. I was 15. I didn’t understand why you stayed in the truck after you brought home food. But I didn’t think anything of it. Everyone needs space. But it turned into the cops being called. There goes that yelling again. I found my corner behind my door this time and grabbed my childhood teddy bear for comfort and tried to curl up into the smallest ball possible. There was no comfort. The cops had showed up and the anger and yelling got worst. I cried. I screamed like I have never screamed before. I put shame to babies who are tired for hungry. I tried the block out the noise around me but it was still there. There was more violence from the cops that night than from my parents to. And I was still unnoticed. I must have been in a glass box. I still don’t understand why you did that. * To be continued another time
Winter has always been a comfort for me. The dark gloomy days. The cold. Grey clouds somehow thin but think enough to block the light. The sunshine. The happiness. No one wants to go outside when the happiness is gone. I prefer it that way though. The cold air hitting my face and breathing in the smell of a storm coming soon. Lightening and thunder have always brought my comfort. The beauty of winter. I never understood how people could fear it. The roar of the sky from the pain of light shooting down to cut it into pieces. Maybe that’s why the sky cries.. The storms always bring chaos and unknown. They rip through towns destroying whatever is in their way and taking what they want. Maybe that is why it brings me comfort. Chaos. Unknown. Destruction. Selfish actions without the thought of how another person will be affected. Or maybe it’s effected I’m not too sure.
So I have finally made my first post on today (Friday January 10th) which some may be confused which is understandable. You see the post, my “first” post that is, I actually wrote earlier this week. I never meant it to be like that but here I am. My vulnerability, guard let down, confidence at a low and a high. You get it. Whoever is reading this that is. Anyone who came back to my story. I have posted my first thing today and I have been SO torn. Torn between letting people know how I feel and then being concerned and also my family reading this and wondering things I can’t even fathom. “What could I have done different, does she realize what I went through, I just tied to survive, and it wasn’t even that bad.” You see these are just basic things that run through my head. It’s so unfortunate. When I had written my first post I was clear minded and that’s how I wanted to be. Here I am 3 days later and I’m not necessarily happy that I’m the opposite but I hit that path again. And I’m sorry to those who read my first post and high hopes but I’m being honest. And with that I don’t want to lie or try to glorify anything. It is a Friday night and I’m completely alone, which I’m fine with. I am content with being alone. In fact I prefer it because I don’t want the expectations of others. The let down of not “doing the right thing”. The fact of having to “socialize”. What does socialize even mean anymore??? With girls it just seems so fucking catty. And with guys? Haha, who’s life is the best! But in reality it’s all just a lie. Everything is a lie… That’s just my opinion anyway. I think this post has just gone on too long and is all over the map so this is where I’m going to end it. If you have stuck this far I appreciate you. My goal isn’t to complain, brag, or glorify anything. I just hope to bring others reassurance that they are not alone.
This morning I sat to eat breakfast. Which is an unusual thing for me because normally I hit snooze until I know I’m going to be late and I’m in a rush to get out the door. The past two days I’ve been clear minded, able to remember the things I did the night before. The things I said, how much I ate, who I called, what I posted, but most importantly how much I drank. It’s a crazy feeling especially since to the common it’s their known. For the past year it has been the unknown for me. I sit at a chair by the window waiting for when I have to leave for work. The two big windows display a picture that show more than just fog outlining trees. The broken fallen leaves on the ground. The bright trees standing tall and the one tree that’s falling apart. When I look out I don’t just see nature. I see a story of my life. The memories. The pain. The broken. Me. Then the others standing tall. You see the fog covering up the tree to which you only see an outline? Those are my memories. I almost wish they were the happy ones but those have almost vanished completely. The fog covers up the bad as much as possible but there is still an outline. Some sort of known but just not completely aware. I have tried so hard to block out the pain. I’ve spent the last year doing my damn best at it too. I knew addiction to cover the pain ran in my family and I drove head first along that path. It’s time I head to work though so I will have to carry on another time.