introspective periscope : peeking inside since Y2K ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- the things i have left 12:06 a.m. - nineteenth of may, 2001-at 100 watts- "i will lean into you and you can be the wind; i will open my mouth and you can come rushing in. you can rush in so hard, make it so i can't breathe. i breathe too much anyway. i can do that any day."~ani difranco even after all of these years, your name still comes up. and every time they say it, there is this smirk that curls their lips and i can see this strange sparkle in the very backs of their eyes. even after all of these years, they are stuck in a past i'd much rather keep put away and leave undisturbed. tonight was the first time i worked with him and he was asking too many questions for me to keep my cool. but i did. i kept it laid back and nonchalant as i've learned is sometimes best. i've become the better person. i've gained a little insight. and now they want to force me to remember. i've kept my mental distance all week, knowing that this would come eventually; knowing that this was going to get too familiar...too comfortable...for my own good. perhaps it would be better to start at the beginning. i went away from there in a flurry of speaker cords and tears. she had burned me and it was your fault. it was because you always thought you were better than everyone. you always thought that you were somehow better than me and all i wanted was your approval for all of those months of weeks. all i wanted in the world was for you to make yourself a bit more likeable to anyone but me...just a bit more tolerable and not as lofty, even at your shorter-than-me height. and even i didn't like you some days....but i still begged for a smile on your lips; i still begged for you to come to bed and i still cried when you stayed up all night and i still cried when i knew you were looking at her. i still cried when i knew that it was more than looking. some days, i hated you for making me hate myself. so i left them all behind and went to you, as if going to you would make the hurting somehow stop. she'd hurt me worse than i thought she'd ever be able to and she left my crumpled up to fend for myself. when i look at her now, i really don't think she ever regretted it as i regretted. i don't think she ever realized how much she let me down. and so i packed up my stereo, one power cord short that she'd taken (she is always about revenge and i've since learned to try to be a little less vengeful and a little bit more forgiving; yes, i think i've done well with that) and i left them all there to clean up the mess themselves. something had to break and it may as well have been me. i was already mostly broken anyway. and i called my mother for the first time in months and i was crying. i spent so much time crying then, didn't i? i was crying and she came and got me and took me back to the house where we lived, the four of us: you and me and the boy with the raspy voice and ben franklin. and i remember sitting in my mother's car and crying because i didn't know what i was going to do. but what could she do? there were days that i didn't want to live. there were days that i wanted to hurt you like you hurt me. there were days when i didn't feel. there were days when i felt too much. there were things that you said that cut me to the vein-ridden core. there were things that you said that echo in the vaults of my head even now. "you lied to me, you know. you weren't a virgin when i got to you." "but i WAS." "you weren't. i know these things." you always seemed to know more than anyone else in your head. but did you know how small you were? did you know how ridiculous you sounded? did you know how much i needed for you to love me? i never lied to you but somehow, you convinced me that i was the guilty one. i never lied to you but somehow, you convinced me that it hadn't happened. and you were wrong for doing that. you came on a sunny late summer day. you drove a small blue station wagon and had spent our shared birthday in jail in illinois. i should have known that things weren't going to be the peaches and cream you'd promised when that went down. you came on a beautiful late summer sunny day and we met you at the mcdonald's then and i was so excited to finally see you...the one i loved...and you smelled like you'd been driving for days and you had, of course...but that smell never left you. and as we rode the few miles to the house we'd come to share, you didn't say too horribly much and i felt overly self concious and i couldn't stop looking at you and i couldn't stop believing that you were real. and the days went by and you still never said much and i was dying to talk to you but i didnt' know what to say to silence. i was too scared because you never really made me comfortable. and then the night came. i was never one for drinking then; i was never one for drinking beer then. and i knew that you'd said what you said: "you're a lot bigger than i bargained for." and i've always wondered what you'd expected. i'd sent you pictures. i'd sent you more than pictures. i'd done things for you...for your love...that i'd never done for anyone and you broke my heart with those words. and i remember the reasoning that i used to make the hurt numb a little bit. you were lost in a video game. you didn't realize what you were saying hurt me...but that was only the beginning, wasn't it? there were things that would go on behind the closed bedroom door that have taken me years to heal. the night came and went and you convinced me that it wasn't how it went and i know it must've been pretty easy because you'd managed to make me believe that you could be the only one that would ever love me like you loved me. and you were right. you were the only one that loved me with that rotten sort of love. and i said no. i said it more than once and you told me i couldn't kiss and i knew you were right because i'd never really kissed anyone before you. sure, there had been kisses, but nothing like you wanted. and as you pressed and pushed and broke me, i cried and disappeared, too ashamed to speak and too afraid that the people downstairs would never believe me. and when it was over, you pulled away and there were no loving kisses and there were no moments where you held me to assure me that you loved me. there was none of that. instead, you got up and disappeared into the bathroom and left me there, aching and burning and ashamed and broken and dirty. its taken me years to wash some of that away. it has taken me years to reclaim some of what i was. and when you left, i wiped my face and went downstairs to the steps in front of our house...it had to be our house because who would want me now?...and i smoked a cigarette, one after another and Sunny Skies and Amy were there and I acted like it was happy and what i wanted because i knew that i was stuck with you now. after all, i really believed then that there couldn't be anyone but you that could stand to look at this body; that could stand to kiss unkissable lips; that could stand to penetrate the spoiled ground you'd left. and so the weeks went by and the bad memories built up like the dust and the dirty dishes. seasons grew cold and she hated you. they all did. they joked with me and it hurt me to hear it as much as it hurt me to know that it was true. i forgot the sound of my own laughter. brian and mark stopped coming around as much. everyone that cared for me stopped coming around as much. you secluded me in a room that you visited when the mood so took you. you stopped coming to bed at night and i cried myself to sleep. and then, something had to break. and i was mostly broken already, so why not me? and i left there, then, in a flurry of stereo cords and tears. it was our only source of income and it was the only family i had left since i'd left my own for you. i couldn't go home because they'd see it in my eyes: the shame and the guilt. i was too proud and too afraid and you were all i had and you let me down. when She came, you couldn't keep your eyes off of her. and She hated you but not for the same reasons. She was smarter and She was prettier and She certainly didn't need you. She was His, the boy with the raspy voice. and you couldn't have Her. and you would talk about Her in our bed and tell me how you loved to look at Her and all i could do was clench my jaw and hope you didn't notice. all i could do was wish that you'd love to look at me. but you never did that. you never really saw me unless you wanted something; unless you wanted to climb on top of me for a few minutes; unless you wanted some release for what She would never give you. i was young then and you were so much older. ten years is a controlling span of time. months passed and i found a way, clawing at the things i could find to make me feel good. a month when i didn't see sobriety; a week when i didn't wake up for the chemicals you put in my body. i don't think that many knew how bad it was in that house and i've never been really comfortable trying to relate it. until last spring, i couldn't even say the name for what you did to me out loud. i couldnt' admit it. and even now, i can't tell the very closest people to me because i still feel dirty sometimes; i still feel ashamed. i was, after all, supposed to be so strong and you made me weak. i was, after all, so independant and you broke me. you made me dirty. and when you had had your fill of the other women that had come into our house that wouldnt' give you the time of day....when calling them bitches and sluts wasn't enough anymore...you found your way back west. and i found my way humbly back home and away from the house where the four of us lived together: you and me and the boy with the raspy voice and ben franklin. i swallowed the teaspoon of pride you'd left me. i made slow amends with a family i'd left behind. and you called once or twice, didn't you? yes. you called me that first night when you made it home and i talked to you then. you wanted me to get some things from the car you'd left at the church to be junked. i never made it over there. it was just your one hitter anyway. and you called again when you finally got yourself into narcotics anonymous and you were on your whatever number step and you called to apologize. you called to apologize for what had gone on between us; for what you did...as if calling to say you were sorry made it all go away. and i told you that i understood because i wanted to, but i never could. i told you that i forgave you, but i never did. i hope that someday i can. i told you that i forgave you so you could get to your next step. even then, i was your sympathetic character. and you called me a few more times and i was there, but i made my mother lie. i made her tell you that i wasn't there and eventually, she just told you that i couldn't talk with you any more. my mother says i cried in my sleep for weeks. you always got so angry when i'd wake you with my snoring or worse still, with my nightmares...as if i could help them. you put them there, i think. and yet, you shook me angrily awake when i disturbed your sleep shaking or calling out for you in dreams like a puppy runs for rabbits in deep sleep. you said i was inconsiderate. i say i was never considered. my mother says i cried in my sleep for weeks. i remember the lightning snowstorm. i remember everything you said. i remember what you said about my hair and i remember promising you there that i would never cut it again. i remember what you said about my virginity as if you'd said if five minutes ago. i remember everything but i'd stopped for so long. i'd set it aside and gave myself some time to heal. and even after all these years, your name still comes up because to them, i haven't lived any other life since that day i walked out in a flurry of stereo cords and tears and broken pieces. they don't know the things i've accomplished or the things i've learned. they don't realize the people that i've met and the people that i've loved. they don't know that i set myself up for the same thing one more time before i learned. they don't know that i am a different person. they don't know that i am forever reclaiming myself from you and another. they don't know that i've grown. so even after all these years, things slip back into a comfortable comfort and i think i knew to expect this. he asked too many questions but i was able to tell him so. i've come too far for the memory of you to destroy everything i've gotten back. but i've heard your name every day for a week and its starting to grate at the nerves i've developed; started to pull uncomfortably at the spine i've developed. i hear your name and its sour. i hear your name and it cuts. i hear your name and i'm forced to remember every single thing again. and so, i'm trying to get used to it and trying to deal with it all in a different way that i hope will put an end to all the aching. i've got so many good things that i'd forgotten when you were here. i've got a hundred more good things than i had before you came. i've got good strong friends. i've got insight and second sight and night times that don't always frighten me. i've got stars and waxing moons. i've got an outlet in my pen and an inlet in my heart. i've got a family that cares and i can acknowledge that now. i've got sunrises and sunsets. i've got a puppy who yawns and gets hiccups. i've got someone that i can love freely. i've got someone i love freely and honestly and openly and i've got romance. i've got someone who loves me in return and tells me so. i've got days when i feel beautiful. i've got teh sound of my own laughter. i've got the sound of laughter like music from those around me. i've got so much. its not everything, i know. its not the things you took from me. even after all of these years, your name still comes up. and though i'm forced to remember, i'm forced to recognize the things i do have. and i've got so much. i've got so much. be well, cats. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- .what came before. - .what happened next. a diamond at the bottom of the drain - 20 october 2017 |
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