Shattered pieces hold the puzzle to unwanted misery and beloved desire. All the infidelities of the world become truth of the mind. My heart is still and my breath weighs heavily on my will for survival. I know I could prosper but I don’t know my way back or how I got here. I lost myself because I had doubt in what I was “told” I was capable of. A rose doesn’t grow because someone believes in it; it grows from knowledge, to believe that their beauty has a deeper meaning even when the odds are against them. Life can’t be controlled it is the person living in that life who decides their own faith. When all my miracles turned to tragedy, faith abandoned me and snatched hope right from my crippled hands. Each broken bone represents chances I’ve haven to make my life better. My naïveté loved the stinging sensation of the broken bones. In fact every time a bone would crunch her mouth watered with excitement. As if she hungered for more. She never bothered repairing my wounds she loved the infectious look life had on me.
My brothers and I were waiting at my aunt’s office doing our homework, waiting for my parents to come home. My dad came in and started to help us with our homework. My mom followed a few minutes later, she walked in the office with a sort of grim look on her face. “Come on guys let’s go,” she whispered calmly; my dad followed. When we were going upstairs my older brother was first, my younger brother and my parents followed. My mom snapped like a mouse trap and my dad was the rat. “Oh so you could have a picture of her in your wallet but not your kids?” For some reason, of that day I only remembered what my mother said and nothing else it was like my father seized to exist that day. She turned to him on the steps cocked her right arm back with her balled up fist and punched my dad so hard that his hat fell off his head. I laughed because the hat fell like a leaf.
There were times I felt depressed and moments away from crying. My life is a joke with one of those punch lines that people can never understand and fail to understand. If I jump off this edge life has defeated me with a vengeance. Hmm what an easy battle I hardly put up a fight. What’s the point? When I’ve been fighting my whole life for things I can’t explain and people I can’t remember. My troubles never escaped me I just learned how to hide them from the reality of my truth. Sanity…weighs on my conscience far beyond my soul. Peacefulness…escaped my thoughts and mocks my freedom. Happiness…I hide it behind my shame right next to my disgrace to the left of my hollow beating heart. They say that the eyes are the key to one’s soul. One blink opens the door to my wonderfully broken childhood, weakened by the death of my innocence. My innocence lived peacefully with my freedom until adulthood barged in and shot her right between the forehead. The bullet went through her brain and destroyed all the memories that she had with me. Freedom couldn’t bear the reality of life without innocence so he tied himself to a rope and hung very slowly until every breath in him was gone.
When we got in the house my parents started arguing while my mom was packing my dad’s things. My dad tried to put his clothes back in the house but my mom threw a phone at him. And that’s it; in less than an hour my dad was out of my life. A couple of years later a few days after thanksgiving I had to use the bathroom. I got up and looked at the toilet before flushing and I saw light streaks of blood. I quickly sat back down and checked myself with the toilet tissue. I yelled my mother’s name out she came to the door with a worried face. I show her the tissue and I said it came from my private part; she smiles and says the phrase that changed my whole life for years to come. “You’re having your period” I looked at her for little over a minute with a blank stare I guess she could tell she had explaining to do. “It means every month for the rest of your life, you will bleed from there. It will only be for a week.” I don’t remember what I was thinking at that age but I know I had to tell my father over a phone call that I was becoming a lady.
Blink twice and you’ll see the truth about me. The real truth, hidden from most of my closest friends.
The real horror happened in the bedroom with him and my mom. Every night they would argue, I would wake up to her screaming at him accusing him of things that I thought he would never do. My dad never played a consistent part in my life. When he was home it was like he really wasn’t because he’d be sleeping all the time. On his days off we used to watch Columbo or some scary movie. Those were the times I really felt a connection with him. He passed down his love for mystery and horror down to me. Even though he left our family behind and took his love right along with him.
I am ashamed of it because it because it happened that way. I never shared this with him because deep down inside I didn’t want to know the truth of how he felt either. I feel like I judged myself to the point where hope for my family getting back together was only a dream. Dreams that make me despise reality so much, that I wish I could dream every happy ending in the world without ever waking. Still it wouldn’t bring me at peace because the only thing worse than reality is a never-ending fantasy. Worst thing about losing yourself is when you never understood who you were in the first place.
Age 16, Grade 11
Girls Write Now