A Day In My Life

To the lovies that read the Daily Post:

He came over early morning. It was close to the end. I had just barely woken up and was clad in only a fleece pair of pajama bottoms and a tank top. The cool summer breeze coming through all of the open windows put my hair on end and covered my skin with goose bumps. My nipples had hardened in the chill; the shape of the shirt accentuated this small detail. Sleep gunk still lingered in my eyes; which, in my mind, drastically reduced the sensuality of the situation. He was wide awake and dressed for day in loose cargo pants suspended by a canvas belt and was wearing a shirt that was tight enough to see that he had been lifting weights. His eyes light up when he saw me.

“Do you want some coffee?” I mumbled still half asleep.

He swept me up in his arms and I inhaled deeply the mixture of cologne, deodorant, and body wash that all melded together and was uniquely him.

“That would be fine sleepyhead,” he said with a giggle.

His face lit up with love and benevolence when he smiled. He always had this faraway look in his eyes; but when he smiled, you could see how much it meant to him. I took brief solace that neither my stepmother nor my siblings were there to rob this moment from us. Everyone in my family was overly fond of him. Him and those gorgeous inky black curls and soft farmers tan that made my heart melt. I hear the slow progression of little feet heading down the hallway leading to the stairs. I release from our embrace and quickly make his coffee the way he likes. Four teaspoons of sugar and healthy splash of milk.

“Good morning Sonya… Justin! You’re here! You’re here to play with us!” My little brother, Evan, nearly shouts in excitement.

“Justin is here! Justin is here!” My sister, Chaeli shouts with the same intensity as her brother.

“Calm down,” I said with authority. “Mommy went out to the store and I am going to look after you while she’s out. Come sit down so we can eat breakfast.”

Everyone listens miraculously and all three of them are seated contently. They have small talk while I serve up glasses of milk to the kids and pop several frozen waffles into the toaster before I make myself a mug of adrenaline in preparation for a day of fun ahead. I stride over and encompass my arms around his shoulders, burying my face into his shoulder to line the side of his neck with kisses.

The sound of gravel crackling under tires alerts me to the need to make a mug of coffee for my stepmother as well. The kids ate their waffles while Justin and I unloaded the groceries from her car. You could see that she was happy for all of Justin’s help and for him being such a good person. As soon as the kids are done eating Justin and I are off playing hide and seek, but rarely did we share a hiding spot. Our size difference made it easier for me to hide, but when we did share the musty confines of an enclosed space our lips met and tingled with desire and excitement. The moment would pass as the patter of feet appeared in front of our spot and with my squeal of disappointment we would relinquish our hiding spot.

I changed from my pajamas right before lunch. The morning had passed by in a flurry of memories made. As I stood brazenly naked, a brief thought of how wonderful it would be to have him waltz in and to feel those rough calloused hands pull me close. Shivering, I rushed the thought out of my head and quickly dressed in my bathing suit under a pair of shorts and a t shirt. I had just finished when I heard my stepmother bellow up the stairs calling me down for lunch.

Ramen noodles. The simplicity of Ramen noodles and grilled cheese had a certain beauty to it. Evan, Chaeli, Justin, and I were all curled up on the couch and his arms were wrapped behind my siblings and me. It was comforting to know he was there for us, all of us. He probably didn’t even know how much he and his family meant to us. It was our first time ever being free to love the life we were building. Togetherness, he was as much a part of our family as I was to his family. Tom and Jerry played on the background of my consciousness accompanied with the cackle of my siblings’ laughter.

As soon as lunch was over, the kids were sprinting outside shouting about a pool. Their boundless energy never ceased to amaze me. Soon we had the kiddie pool inflated and the garden hose was gushing with water from the arctic. Justin pulled his shirt off without feeling my eyes watching his every movement. Slight ridges ran down his stomach and his arms bulged tantalizingly. A thin trail of black glossy curls lead from his belly button to below his shorts. A constellation of freckles coated his back, but were barely noticeable on that light creamy tone of sun kissed olive. His eyes finally met mine and took my breath away with their hues of blue and green. A smile played upon his lips and they curled up despite his attempt to hide it. The water sloshed lazily into the inflated kiddie pool and the excitement was practically radiating off of the kids. I proceeded to pick op Evan and gently plop him into the freezing cold. Shrieking like a tortured soul, he practically combusted out of the water. The afternoon passed with us all climbing into the pool, minus my stepmother who sat in the shade and read, and playing shark.

Bedtime had come faster than anyone had wanted it to come; I proceeded to curl up in his arms as we settled down to a movie before he had to go home. There was little room in my mind for much else besides the love I had for him. Not the fact that it would all end soon, too soon. To truly be happy, one has to suffer. Part of the reason that this was one of the best days of my life was because we had all just immerged from the dark and despair that had been life for the past sixteen years.


Missing a Stitch

I need to do more of these lovely Daily Posts, well here we go on the feels train again choo choo!

Something felt wrong. The entire house was exploding with a hushed intensity and I proceed to skulk up to my room like a dog with its tail between its legs. I figured it had to be something I had done wrong. It seemed every day there was something new that made me a less than worthwhile human. The quiet chatter of my siblings was coming from their room, something about ponies and Transformers. They were five and six years old respectively at this frozen frame in my mind. They were both starting to get into reading and were competitive at everything, despite their distinct personality differences. Both of their faces were splotched with freckles and had remnants of their summer glow achieved from hours of playing in the sun and in the oblong kiddie pool in the back yard. She was becoming a beautiful tyrant with long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that upheld her calm assertion in herself. My brother with his mellow pools aqua and amber hair revealed the softer sensitive personality he would grow into. They mean the world to me. Why he wouldn’t allow me to spend any real length of time with them without my stepmother or himself there to supervise was truly beyond me.

I curl up on my bed that was tucked away in one of the many alcoves of my room and replayed my father’s words in my head. Don’t read to them, you’re just a bad influence on them. It was crushing. All I wanted to do is show them the beauty of books like my stepmother had shown me as a kid, except she was always tired after working hard all day to support our family. It was the least I could do to show how much she helped me grow as a person. My mind sifted through all I could have possibly done wrong that would cause such an uproar that raged on in the garage. She took what seemed to be the brunt of his rage most times, diluting it into easier to handle amounts. However much heat she took off of his words, it was still not enough to keep them from killing me just a little bit more on the inside. I would allow the words to mostly roll off besides some of the more intense ones; those festered beneath my skin and occasionally haunt me to this day. I retreat into a state of non-existence in which nothing in the world mattered. There have been many months where I wished it had mattered to me. 

The sun was setting behind the silhouette of the trees outside my window and stress had nearly consumed me. There had to be something I had done that I couldn’t think of. Footsteps creeped up the stairs and the tension in all my muscles increased tenfold. If it had just been my father angry for no real reason, he would have beckoned me down by hollering my name belligerently; but no, this was my stepmother coming to me. Things were serious and possibly beyond all hope of return. I had tucked myself into the fetal position at the edge of my bed and put myself into a near frenzy, so that all outside stimulus was nullified. Her soft knock at the door required me to invite her, which I did so obediently despite my wish for hesitance. Her voice was low and soothing and eased my tears of stress, panic, and fear as she delivered her news.

My little brother had stayed home. What my father had done struck a deep seated chord of hatred which I had feared to play until this day. I needed to be strong. I should have been strong six years ago. Why hadn’t I been able to be the protectorate that this family had needed? Why could I not have saved us? A moderately deep gash was displayed overtop of the banner of freckles that decorated by brothers cheekbones. I saw this when I finally heard the woeful tale that made me rue my performance as the eldest. My stepmother and I had already left for school, seeing as she is a high school English teacher. My father had always targeted my brother once I was gone due to his softer nature. Whenever I see something cowering, I just get the urge to kick it. He saw us as things, second class beings under his authoritarian rule. My sister was normally safe, since she had a fire in her soul that provided her the defiance that earned respect. I had the ability to be a scapegoat and handle whatever he dished out to me. My brother though, he was a creature of docility. My brother had no armor suitable for this battle.

My stepmother had made him leave that night and we clutched at each other like drowning men to shore as we unleashed the pain and fear we had harbored for years in smooth rivulets down our faces. She was terrified of losing the family she had built, seeing as she had no legal custody over me. I was terrified that the nightmare would never end. We watched his truck roll out of sight down the driveway and I prayed in my heart for him to never harm our family again. My prayer must have fell short however, for we all bear our battle scars hidden in our hearts. We clung together and lasted the tempest, but how does one rebuild after the storm? The blame I ladled onto my plate weighed down my heart for years to come.

The questions swirl in my head and make me nauseous from self-hatred. If I had stood up to him earlier, even just three years earlier, I can’t help but wonder if everything would have been better. My siblings would have grown up without recollection of a father figure and would be less burdened by this mysterious figure at the edge of their memory. They wouldn’t have to wonder if he had left because he didn’t love them like I had, spending year chasing the answer to the same question regarding my mother. If I had stood up sooner, maybe my stepmother wouldn’t have memories laced with pain. Maybe if I stood up to my mother maybe I would still have my family intact. My siblings wouldn’t have to wonder when they are going to see their sister again. Maybe I wouldn’t have to shoulder all this pain for years to come. Our lives would be so much different if only I had been stronger.

We would still be home and our family as one. We would all be healing together, because as one we stand stronger against the nightmares of our past. There wouldn’t be a rift dividing all of our lives. If only I had been stronger…

The Snow Is Sand

All that is on my mind currently:

Christmas, a time for friends, family, and the spirit of giving. I guess two out of three isn’t all that bad. I have got some baked love to hand out to all the people that have made this year worth living and I am very excited to present it to them, but something is missing. I was raised with my stepmother, my father, and my two younger siblings; I was never really fond of my Dad for reasons better left unsaid, but everyone else is mandatory to my basic functioning. I had to move away three years ago after the divorce, due to her lacking custody and me not wanting to burden her further as a single mother. I have been able to travel to spend at least a chunk of the holiday with them in past years, however this year I have been working and taking on extra shifts in order to pay for some of my college loans that will be accumulating here shortly. I am having issues facing the fact that this Christmas is going to be hard on me. It hurts to see everyone missing you when you have to leave abruptly to go to work, cutting everyone’s time short. It hurts to see how much my siblings have grown when I sit back and remember like it was yesterday when I was reading bedtime stories to them.

I would move in, but I can’t. Well technicality I could, but then my mother has almost sworn to disown me. I don’t know why that thought bugs me. I have never been close to her or her husband or anyone on that part of my family to any meaningful extent. Why can’t I just leave? At this point, my mother barely provides for me and I could provide a portion of the income for my stepmother if she needed it. I would have love, support, and actually have interest in what was going on with my life. I was raised with that and now that it is gone these past three years have left me hollow. It pains me to just visit my stepmother, following it I have weeks of homesickness and emotional torment; but the longer I go, the less it hurts. It probably seems immature, but I just don’t know. Maybe I’m just not strong enough. I just don’t know.

I can go weeks without talking to my mother, even though we live together. The current record is two weeks and the only words she said to me were asking about how was work. Who can go two weeks without talking and then simply ask about the most impersonal thing besides the weather?  Maybe this is how other families function. I feel like I have nowhere to turn for answers about this. I know that I should just be thankful that I have a roof over my head and that I am no longer getting abused, but that four month span after the divorce where it had just been my me, stepmom, and two siblings completely altered my perspective. I know I will never have that back fully and the only way I can get it back for good is to model my own family on what she has taught me. It all seems to brief; all of life is a breath. Here for a second and then dying the next. I need to cherish what I have left on this spinning blue marble, for it will all be gone soon enough.

The Boy with Broken Wings

Oh is that sirens I hear or is it the Weekly Challenge?

The lights were strobing brilliant colors, an adult version of a merry-go-round, flashes of green, red, and blue. The bass line of the song was vibrating my sternum and altering the regularity in which blood was palpitating in my veins. The intensity burning in the lead singer’s eyes, his face paint highlighted his jaw structure and his hair was slicked back and glinted in the light. I needed to know more. Their set went by beautifully and ingrained lyrics in my head. I waited until they left the stage before I rushed him; in fact I waited back until everyone else had finished raving about their performance. Soon the stage was getting set up for the other bands to play and Demonic Sonogram had packed up their gear. I strode up with more confidence then I felt. 

“Follow me!” I shouted into his ear over the increasing volume in the small smoky room.

I beckoned him with my eyes and I made my way to the door. I looked deep into his warm benevolent eyes and knew there were secrets hidden right beneath the surface.

“So the show was amazing, I’m sure you know that, but when I look into your eyes all I see is this hidden sadness. What is there hiding in those pools of chestnut?” I whispered as to not disturb the peace of the outdoors or at least not any more than the concert would.

He looked tentatively toward me, unsure whether or not to take the bait. He slowly opened his mouth and came memories as hazy as the smoke that covered the bar area.

“We broke up over two years ago and as irrational as it is, I am scared of her coming back. Scared of having to explain why I am in a committed relationship without her. I mean, she was…” he trailed off into light tears and my arms held him firmly to my chest. 

In that moment I saw him, the boy with broken wings. I saw all of the hardships meld together under the polluted glow of the stars. He sat there curled in my arms and the skeletal remains of his wings dripped with sorrow and beneath him was a nest of neutral colored feathers that had clearly been painstaking torn off one by one. I held him and sheltered him with my warmth, hoping to share my inner peace.

Completing the Cycle

I look around the room frantically searching for words. Fear courses through my veins and the adrenaline begs me to escape, but how. His piercing gaze is like a hawk hunting down its next prey. The air bristles with tension as he lays a colossal hand on my shoulder. My cocoon of illusion was shattered. I was alone, so terribly alone. It was like the times before when I had been attacked. No one there to help, nor did I have the voice to beg for assistance. Phantom hands are on my shoulders, coarsely gripping my breast, and their Cheshire grins fade into the darkness of the reservoirs of my memories. That was then and that is now. A complete deja vu. His thick accent muddles his words in my head. How to escape? How to escape?

“Come on girlie. You know you want to and trust me you’ll love it. I won’t stop.” 

My response was stuck in my throat and my vocal cords had become concrete. I try to distance myself from this monster and as I back up, the back of my knees hit the edge of the bed. Where to go from here? The chain link fence had been at my back the last time and my eyes had grown wide in terror, just as they were now. His hands are now planted like trees on either side of me, burrowing their roots into the comforter with ease. I crawl up on the bed shaking my head and eyes to the floor. My voice realizes the urgency, but my thoughts are scrambled with mortification.

“How about we don’t.”

My hesitancy decreases the authority and legitimacy in which I deliver my simple line. My voice had quivered and my body shook uncontrollably. I raise my eyes from the regal colored paisley print beneath me and met the bottomless pits that devoured my attention. They burned with rage at my defiance, until they dimmed to flickering white hot hate. I could see that my fate was sealed. He rolls onto the bed from where he was standing and proceeds to crawl my way. How could someone’s intentions be so bad? A nervous chuckle escaped my throat. I was no contest for him physically and I had no strength in my will to demand compliance. I had no clue if I could bellow out load enough to arouse neighbors’ suspicion or if they would even care.

“Oh come on now. Don’t be shy.”

His hand edged up my thigh and I gazed almost helplessly mesmerized by my own weakness. I gently guided his hand back toward my knees, until he slipped them out and was on the button of my jeans before I could process the abrupt progress of the events. Why couldn’t I just outright stop him? I must be deserving of this was my conclusion, based on the frequency of similar events. My pants are being slid off and still not much of a real struggle. In my mind I am even justifying his actions. Maybe he actually wants to give you pleasure. Maybe it won’t be like the past couple times. Maybe you won’t cry when it’s over. Maybe if you just go with it, it won’t hurt as bad. Maybe you’ll be able to walk away from this one day.

“Aww, that’s a good girl.”

I am refusing, but with barely a whisper and my eyes am filling with tears for the inevitable pain to come. Why couldn’t I just be strong? By now, I have trailed into the darkest corner of my mind. You are completely worthless. What did I tell you! I knew that all you would ever amount to is a goddamned whore. how do you like suck dick for a living? Oh wait you do it for fun. Soft whimpers encourage him to shush me and I catch a glimpse of the flames again. Any hope of resistance smolders in the ashes of my self-hatred. I begin to lose grip of what is going on and lose myself in the surrounding objects. My panties are clutched in his fist. 

A paused moment of silence occurs.

I lay sprawled out naked on the bed with my eyes trained on the weight set in the corner of the room. He strips out of his clothes and flings them haphazardly on the floor. I notice the slight rusting on the tiny areas in which the paint was chipped off of the dumbbells. He hovers over me prepared to insert himself dry. I already am wincing with the pain I know is about to come as I watch the border of the room. He lets out a gasp of pleasure and his chiseled body accumulates sweat along the fault lines in his muscles. Searing pain accompanied with a tearing feeling cause me to bite my lip hard enough to draw blood. I stare at the wall as the pain builds. You know you deserve this, you filthy whore. You worthless piece of shit. For roughly fifteen minutes pass as I observe the inner depths of hell located in the brilliant white of the paint on the wall.

“STOP! Oh God, please stop! No more! NO!”

My voice rippled with sobs as I pounded his back with my diminutive fists. A couple minutes pass by with me shoving and punching to no avail. Finally it is over. I gather my clothes and cover myself in shame as Adam and Eve had done. My vary soul was weary. A soft grin and a chuckle lit his face. It had to be some sort of distortion of reality, what part of that was funny. Then I realized that it was a game of cat and mouse. He would catch me and set me free and continue to do so as long as I allowed.

“What was I too much for you?”

I asked him to take me home and the entire way back I stayed out of his reach. I had to break the cycle myself. I had to be strong. No one else would be strong for me. Once I got out of the car and was safely inside my house I called him. I told him that I never wanted to see his pathetic face again. He hung up and called back a week later apologized for being cruel. He wanted to see me again in person to apologize. My strength wasn’t strong enough. I agreed to see him. Maybe I just like the abuse.

On the Outside

So, go ahead and tell me I was wrong. I went through my boyfriend’s blog. Normally he shows me every post, despite them being blocked from public view. I came home early and decided to do a little reading before I started to clean. I pull up the page and my excitement builds. I always love getting little peeks into his thought process and what I pull up makes my heart cringe. He wrote about us. How he is feeling replaced. All I could think is that I hate myself. Hate isn’t a strong enough word really. It disgusted me to think that one of the most important people in my life felt left out. I get that I’ve been busy, but god why so harsh. It kills me to think that I made him feel this way. Once he came home, I did my best to make him feel loved and to see how much he means to me. I then proceed to ask if he has written anything. My heart plummets a second time. His response was “No”. Pain. Betrayal. Guilt. I hate this feeling. This worry. Why would he lie about something that simple? He has sat and talked about his ex’s showed me posts about past dates. None are nearly important  and yet the others were more abrasive. Why? I can handle you telling me that I’ve been a sub-par girlfriend. I completely understand. I’m going to say something tomorrow once I get my thoughts sorted out. So many thoughts equals very little sleep for me.

A Hearth in Winter

The still of the morning air quivered with expectation, an electric hum that could be felt. Gently drifting around me were snowflakes and a thin layer covered the still vibrant emerald blades of grass. The hush of the woods seemed patiently waiting for me to whisper a sweet solemn secret to them. The deciduous trees were bare and skeletal, whilst the thick boughs of the evergreens seemed to shroud them in their leaves. I turned in place and the crunch of snow beneath my boots seemed to break the tension. I stood to face his– I mean our house. This was a place that I was expected to raise a family. How could I do that? Just simply walk away from the freedom and lack of responsibilities? How do I face the ever calling challenge of bringing stability to our house? Bird calls littered the flow of my thoughts. How merry it must be to have wings, but it is true that every bird must return to a nest. Unless I was a penguin… 

Our house. The mahogany deck looked even darker in the damp; underneath was an odd assortment of metal objects, mowers a grill, and what looked to be a tiller. So much needed to be sorted and cleaned and taken care of, it almost overwhelms me to think of the inexhaustible list of chores and my finite amounts of energy. It was curious however, within the white paneled siding and under the mouse grey roof, an immeasurable amount of love seemed to seep out. It couldn’t be contained. All the hopes and wishes for the future, our  future together, seemed to meld my insecurities with the strength and security that lie nearly dormant. The door cracked open and the sunlight caught his bright orange hair. Sleep held his eyelids captive as he let out a wide yawn. A navy bath robe covered his torso, covering the galaxies of freckles that spanned his shoulders. His eyes open again and they match the color of the sky when seen through an icicle. An icy blue that demands attention. 

“Good morning Lovey, thank you for making me tea'” he lilted down the steps to me.

The corners of his lips turned up in a gentle smile. Only once I saw it reach his eyes did I allow myself the luxury to bask in his love and gratitude. Stress seeped out of my body and the tension in my muscles retreated, it was as if he had sucked the poison from my veins. My steps started slow, heavy and fatigued from the uncertainty. By the time I reached the steps, I was close to a full sprint and up the stairs I sped, bulldozing him in a flurry of ice and snow. Our lips align and melt the cold away, in a brief moment I know we are perfectly in tune with each other.

“Anytime, you know I would do anything for you,” 

I feel a sly grin tugging at the corners of my mouth knowing that he will never entirely know how I feel for him.