It’s Broken, I don’t want to play.

“I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m just not very good at this keeping in contact with people stuff…”

That’s the line, that’s the phrase that has broken me today. If it were a friend I could understand, I am also terrible at contact for the same reason, our upbringing showed us we didn’t need family, to the point that we now don’t understand it, yet we crave it.
He’s not good at communication but has a partner for as long as he’s been missing from my life. Mum has dad, my sister has her family, my grandma has her other grandchildren, my other side of the family I don’t think ever really accepted I existed.

I slipped through the cracks.

Who am I? Was I meant to be? You swore you wanted a boy & a girl… The girl being invisible…? Maybe it was just a childish dream that once true you regret, like getting a dog when you are an avid traveller…  It’s just cruel.

As time went on the phone calls grew further apart, the letters less, the christmas and birthday cards non existant… Did I cease to exist and somebody forgot to tell me?
I can’t completely blame them, mine ceased to exist to… But how to you reach out when moving your fingers over paper could burn them with the pain you feel? When you can’t lie like the rest, can’t smile and put on a show…? Should I smile as I tell you how much I want to slit my wrists? Let you laugh back as the blood drips, still not taking me seriously..?

I feel like a ghost, maybe I am one, that’s why I connect with so little people… Only those with the don. My mum sure looks through me as I pour my heart out. I wonder what happened to her, what made her so cold… Mechanical hugs that automatically count down the miliseconds and ring a buzzer to let go and his smile, the one practiced on clients is flashed at me as I leave, lucky me, such a wonderful family they say, they are wonderful people I say, smiling softly, my mind finishing the phrase, count your lucky stars they weren’t your parents…

Now don’t get my wrong, the guilt as I write this is burning my lungs, my breathing getting harder with every word, will I suffocate on the truth? My truth, as it is nobody elses, nobody else lived through it, nobody has seen anything, nothing every happened, I was always a “strange child”. Difficult, argumentative, told she wasn’t liked by her own mother… Told by her father that she didn’t deserve any friends, that she was a horrible person, whilst he smiled that sarcastic grin and another piece of that child died.

The weight on my shoulders, the word family the heaviest of all. It breaks me as it rains down on me, ever December alone, every birthday they forget, every day that passes is like a drop of water on the branch of a tree, the weight unnoticeable until all of sudden it’s too much and the branch bends… Sometimes it breaks…

If I died would they notice?

I truly ask myself this, this is a completely serious question in my mind? Would they take time off work to mourn me, to ask themselves who left them, would they remember who I am?

Who Am I, I asked her… Her lip trembled, she replied the same answers as a stranger would… This woman that birthed me… The one that promised to try harder and hasn’t called since.
I could feel the relief as she backed away in the car park, her sigh of finally releasing me again after not even a whole 24 hours together…

It’s not her fault, it’s nobodies. And I am nobody.

Would me dying finally bring them all together, create the family I’ve always wanted? Irony sweet irony.

They want to be close to their grandaughter… They ignored their children but want to make it right with her. You’re leaving it too late, you need to try harder, if you thought that the love you gave us will be enough, she won’t even feel the dust of it.
My childhood was a gentle breeze of something that felt like care mixed with the sour smell of abandonment, of busy parents and sad children.

They tried their best, they thought money would be important, time was just a word.
Years of working to the bone to survive, their pain etched on her face as she explained her half, as I listened, understanding every word, caring, her pain from this huge misunderstanding, my whole life a misunderstanding. Her eyes glazed as I told her I was raped by a boyfriend, I could see her mind working, wondering if I was lying, if I had misjudged it, not an inch of pain, no feeling of anger. Her mother instinct dormant since I can remember. My dream mother bear, the protection I craved cracking, my last hope of understanding her slipping away with the tears on my face, my emotions drying alongside them on the sheets. What was I to feel now?

I want a reclamation form, I want a redo, I want someone to explain to me how this can happen and nobody notice.

And finally we have arrived, once again to Platform 24 at Suicide Central, thank you for riding again miss Lucy, we hope you enjoy your timeless ticket, we recommend staying in memory lane for an extra special painful night and eat at the regret diner so you throw up later from crying into your milkshake of emotions.

Tomorrow is another day.

Stop being dramatic, I’ll be here, I have a train to catch. Now wave and smile as if you actually cared, even wave as if you’ll really miss me, that’s it.

Now my view is here, in public, where your image is more important than your daughter, the shame, oh the shame, oh the guilt… Oh the pain, oh those glances, it will all begin but I’m not scared anymore. Your wrath may burn but my skin are scales and the worst that can happen is that I die and I still end up winning so let the fire begin, let the pain reign, let it crackle and destroy the bridges, let happen what must.
Don’t say I didn’t try, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

It’s time.

“When you feel suicidal, the only rule is that you come to your next sesion with me and try and make sense of it with me, if it can’t be fixed, throw yourself off the ledge, if it can be fixed, we will, but you have to wait, promise me.”

Damn me and those stupid promises that I keep.
Must be because nobody ever kept one with me that they mean so much when they are just simple words. Just simple words… Blown away by the air.

But I promise Carlos.

 

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