I’m running away, but it’s acceptable now because I’m 24. 24 year olds are supposed to be away from their childhood home. So it’s okay. Except it’s not because my dad just died and 12 months prior my grandma died and 5 years prior my grandpa died. Everyone is dying and I’m running from death. I’m also running from him. Because, fuck him and all the lies he told me to get into my pants. So this is where my story starts. On a plane bound for London. God save my heart. I thought I started planing our lives the moment I saw him. I was wrong, I started planning my life way before I met him. And he, well, he had qualities that synced with the imaginary man in my fantasy. But that’s what we were. A two week fantasy bound to dissolve. If I could have one more conversation with him — and I’m not sure I’d want to. I’d tell him that now, when I think of love, I don’t see it as something worth dying for. I think I would die to save my brother, my mother, my three best friends because that’s all that love I have in my life. But I wouldn’t die for man. I’d tell him that he made me that way, that every single person who rendered me insignificant and unimportant in my life has irreversibly implanted an idea of irrelevancy in my mind. I’d tell him that his leaving me, his unwillingness to even try has set me on a path to carve out this notion that I am irrelevant. Because I am magnificent and I’ll prove it. I’d tell him that he met me during a time in my life when I was hopelessly lost and not looking for a way to be found. I’d tell him that his hurting me, his liking me, his presence in my life showed me just how deeply I had been digging a hole and burying my pain. I’d tell him that I hope he gets those three kids and never has to know what it’s like to kill someone. I’d tell him that I mourned for a long time how I won’t be apart of his life. I’d tell him I’m sorry that I used him, that I’m angry he used me. I’d tell him goodbye. This isn’t a story of magic, it may contain intrigue and it most definitely will have moments of mortification. But it’s going to be true and real because I’m amazing all by myself. Fuck the people who made me think I wasn’t. I’m not looking for miracles. I’m looking for people who’ve struggled. I’m looking for survivors. I’m looking for hope. This is the story of that journey. This is my opportunity. Author Note: This is the second short story in a 12 part series that deal with the pressures associated with being a female and not understanding what that means exactly.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Hi There,This page is dedicated to all the books I read and all the things I write. Archives
February 2020
Categories
All
|