The first thing she ever said to me was a lie. Lying was her oxygen. It’s how she survived every day. It’s how she took breath and ate her food and walked down the street and drove her car. It’s the only thing that made her feel safe. Putting up a wall the rest of the world couldn’t climb. Pretending to be something she wasn’t. Lying. I understood, I guess. But I needed to know who she really was. I needed to get inside that head of hers. I needed to be a part of her life. But she didn’t have people in her life. She had passing faces and passing names that she probably won’t remember in two days time. But I needed to be there. So I came up with a plan. I wanted to know who she really was. I wanted to know what was the real face behind that mask. I wanted to know if she was even wearing a mask. I want to know why she was running and what or whom she was running from. Continue reading →
I was never a big “flower person”. I’m still not. I love nature and I love flowers and greenery and gardens but I don’t know a lot about them. I don’t know the different flowers or what type thrives and which climate. For the longest time I didn’t even have an answer to the question “what’s your favorite flower?” Because the only flowers I could think of were roses and daisies and those weren’t my favorites.
But I’ve finally found my answer to that question and that’s succulents.
I always thought that your favorite flower was a good way to know the kind of person you are. Continue reading →
“You wear your heart on your sleeve,” was the mantra he heard day and night. The words were whispered against his ear, shouted from the roof, scratched into his skin by the people who were supposed to love him.
“Weak,” the insult is spat his way after he once again let tears slip out of his deep, hot eyes.
“Control yourself,” he whispered, pulling the blanket over his chest and turning on to his side.
His phone started singing promptly at three am that night. He slapped the ‘off’ button and pushed the blanket to the floor, exposing his sweating legs to the cool, sharp air. He tugs on his dirty pair of jeans and a large sweatshirt before fishing the worn bag out from under his bed. Continue reading →
Therapy. Doctors. Endless conversations. Even a hypnotist once.
“You’re in shock.” “You’ve experienced great tragedy and loss.” “Trauma plagues you every day.” “You need help.” “What you’ve experienced follows you every day.” “You’re demons will never leave you.” “Broken, you’re broken.”
Broken. Broken. Broken.
I don’t remember what it’s like to have a normal beating heart. Most people don’t think about it. The way your heart thumps in your chest. Most normal people don’t realize every pump of blood being surged through your body. Continue reading →
It was a Friday. Which Friday doesn’t matter. Any Friday. All Fridays. Every Friday.
Pounding. That’s what I remember before anything else. The pounding in my head. It was like all my memories, all my desires, all my relationships I had stored away, were thrashing around in my head, fighting to get free.