My Story

You can't go on hating the world after yours stops. Mine did once, twice actually, and forgiveness was hard to come by. Summer ended with alcohol and tears. Lots of tears. It was a mad war between my mom and my dad, and I begged god for a divorce. Some may think I was a twisted adolescent because I hated my father with all that was me. He had seven glorious years of alcoholism behind him and not much to show for it. I never loved him, I never really knew him. And he never knew me. He still doesn't.

 

And growing up with a stranger as a dad takes a toll, even if you don't realize it. Our family was a balancing act. If nobody moved, we would only wobble a little bit. But, we wobbled a lot, and my fourteenth year was the roller coaster from hell. I cried every night, it seems. But nobody knew because I had to be strong.

 

And that's when this boy came. He was goofy but endearing, and I thought he was harmless. He told me he loved me, and we became best friends and lovers. I told him everything except my mess of a home life. I wanted to keep it seperated, I think, because he was so good to me, when everything else was bad.

 

Our friendship stayed steady through the spring, but as summer opened her eyes, our young love fell through the cracks. He was never my boyfriend because we didn't want to be, but he found another girl and asked her to date him. I was sad, but I thought we could still be friends. We couldn't, apparently, because he stopped calling every night like he used to, and we didn't spend time together anymore. I felt like I'd dropped off a cliff.

 

Hurt has a funny way of leaving you naked. So that once you're healed you're more like the person that you really are. I really am closed off to the world, but I have a hungry mind and a bright heart, and I can love just about anyone.