Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Dying II

I keep having these little moments. Moments that Grey puts me through. Moments that I've already experienced before. Moments from my life. Moments that broke me. Every moment I've experienced that's caused me pain in some way. And the funniest thing is most of them star my mother. That's the funniest thing. Funny? The fucks wrong with me that's not funny. None of this is funny. Yet I have the urge to laugh. And cry. And just scream. I have the urge to show any emotion right now. Just to get away from Grey. But I can't push him away. He's wrapped around me. And these moments keep playing. Like. Like that one night my mother drove to her old boyfriend's house with us in the car and got out and tried to kick the door to his trailer house down and then the cops being called and arresting her and the 5 hours I spent in the cold van keeping my brothers safe through the night until my grandparents picked us up. I was only 7 or 8 when this happened. Or the moment when mom forced me to bleach my hair in the 8th grade. She forced me to bleach my hair even though I didn't. Or when she snatched my glasses and crushed them in her hand during a summer where my only escape was through literature. Or her forcing her way into grammie's house and pushing over the kitchen table and screaming at grammie, like always. Or our old dog Dally dying on the kitchen floor, with maggots crawling in and out of her decayed, rotting leg, with mom just watching her die. These moments keep happening. Her drunkenly laughing in my face and mocking my voice, and grammie's voice. Her screaming in my face and her lying about me hitting her to grandaddy. These moments keep happening. Her forcing us to paint a shed she filled to the brim with shit that she'll never use with our child support, ...which to be fair is less of a moment but an entire summer but it feels like a moment in a long list of disasters. Pungo, another dog, getting hit by a car after escaping through the broken fence mom wouldn't ever get fixed. The night she called me and told me to throw away the beer bottles in the kitchen sink before the police and social worker got there and saw them. These events won't stop. The day she finally enrolled us into I.C. Norcom after missing 2 weeks of school. The day she first told me I was "possessed" by some demon, three years ago (irony). The night I called the police on her and she lied her ass off and the police officers did nothing.

And that day in the church parking lot on London Blvd. The police did nothing then, too.

Every night she spent blasting her music and getting drunk, or spent away from the house and coming in late with McDonalds, or spent yelling at grammie, or spent arguing with me, or spent in the laundry room with cigarettes and likely smoking marijuana, or spent shopping, or

And every day she spent not loving us.

All of these things that she's done to me and my family. Everything that's happened. And Grey's showing me all of it once again. And I'm experiencing it all. And Jesus fucking Christ how can this happen? How can something so unjust happen in this world? It's so unfair. All of it.  How can anyone allow this? Why won't anyone help me? Why doesn't anyone outside see and help? The neighbors hear her scream all the damn time. The state won't do anything. Social services ignores us. Everyone ignores me. No one loves me No one loves me No one loves me

I'm all alone i nthsi world

Even my sivlinbfsl hate me

Theres ntohgin I can do to get out is there

im stuck in hell

and now im going to die and i cant help

But laugh.

but then the laughter fades awayand in spire of me thinking that i've run out

i cry more and i scream

i scream and no one is there to save me

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