hoy es domingo(siete).
o7.43.o
in this house.vivid memories come running back into mymind.
it is very quietin thishouse.
iask why doesnt shejustsleep (in).
it has been 14 years of waking up at 7 am to press:
start on the coffee machine.
i have slept for 6 hours. i am worried of being unhealthy.
i am scared i dont give you what you need/deserve/enough.
right before i woke up i remember realizing and seein g black fill my vision. like it was this sort of thing telling me; i needed to remember what i shouldn't forget. i am repeating to you(myself) now a mix of what is real(life) and what is not(death).
not to say death isn't but for now...
this is just bits and pieces. farm. the little girl that lives downstairs was there. farm. big pile of cow shit. i forget why i was running but i got my sweater dirty because i tried squeezing past. i took it off. i tried washing it. blank blank blank blank all in the middle. i am at home now. blank blank blank. my parents they are arguing. my father hadbeen drinking. *i told you yesterday about how i grew up with a father who was an alcoholic* his eyes were glazed and scleras were red. your whites turned red. anger was already in your body the alcohol proved it. you looked for my mother who, she too, was drinking/drunk/maybe just thats how she is. you found her and i cant remember the middle(maybe something about rooms, i always get lost). she runs out the house. in a car is where i find her. the perspective is in my eyes but my body does not feel like mine. i am strong and my mother is in the car with piss covered pants and her face. she looks so sad. she is crying, uncontrollable. i pick her up with my arms. that do not belong to my body because in this i am very strong. i carry her back inside the house. again i am outside and my father. still very drunk. he is outside i remember he is running away,, pedaling on a bike. maybe a glass bottle in his hand, maybe he's using both hands. i look at him bike away and i am filled with dread. where is he going. when will he stop. there are multiple police officers following suit. i am standing in the middle. i scream at my dad, "theyarecomingfor you". the police tackle my father down. the police are all on top of my father, i run towards them. i tell them pleasedonthurthim he is diabetic. type2. he may not havetaken his meds today.
pleasedonthurt him. pleasedonthurthim. pleasedonthurthim please donthurthim pleasedonthurthim.
he is fighting. resisting i am begging. he is confused he is confused. please donthurt him. i am speaking to my dad. please. please. please.
i dont know if he understood me. i wake up. i cry.
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my parents what they gave to me was care. if i think of it how i grew up, it was never quite apparent. at least care in the way people-the love languages. you gave me shelter, food, clothing. but more like law because i am/was your child. care for me, now older, feels like love. feels like instinct. feels like i love you and i want to tell you but i've always been scared to say it first. care feels like a crush sometimes too. care feels like i am excited to be with you. near you. i want to take care of you. it is so easy just to be there. cook for you. feed you. keep you company. space.care gives me a rush of excitement when you compliment my cooking. i love to hear that and yes i do wait to hear it. and if i am feeling very impatient then i will ask before you get a chance.
i remember how afraid i used to be when i would see you drink. i remember being able to look at your face before smelling your breath and realizing that you had drank that. can, glass, maybe even a full bottle. with my father, i hid. sometimes i would peek downstairs and see you dance. sometimes i would close my eyes by the stairs and i would listen very hard. i would listen to what you would say and how you would say it. i could recognize your foot steps if you were getting closer, and i memorized the creaks in the stairs so i could skip past them. i was afraid when you would find my mom. i was afraid when you would take her. when you would tell her to get in the car to get you mmore drinks. i was afraid when you guys would come back and she was afraid. i was afraid and knowing of what you would do when you would take her back to your room. locked door and jingling belts.
quiet moanings groanings crying. i am holding my ear to the door and i stay still and i listen.
my early life. a part of it. i woke up this morning and i am reliving it.
re-life (relief).
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o8.22.o