He prefers the silence of the darkness

He says it calms the voices in his head

It stops them from making him hurt me

but it doesn't last

It's always the quiet before the storm

And when he hits....

When it hits, it's a raging chaos

Engulfing us

I can't leave

There's no escape

We're trapped in a never ending loop

Afraid to step into the light

To attached to the darkness

And the silence swallowing us whole

Our mother seems to think of us as one. From our hair to our clothes down to our shoes. I could see why she would confuse us for each other, we're identical clones of one another. The only thing separating us are our names and personalities, things that were overlooked by the people around us. To the five of us we clung to those little things, like they were our freedom from each other. We relished in the joy that one day we'd be going our separate ways, to finally become one person and not five carbon copies of each other. We were in tuned with each other that when one of us was hurting or in pain we could feel it...and we did. We felt every heartache, cried when the others were down. We were so use to being compared or mistaken that we resented one another. It was hard to have a voice when we outnumbered each other. Clawing our way out of each other's shadows, wanting to be seen for who we were. Individuals with our own thoughts and ideas but to everyone who knew us or the us they thought they knew, we were five.

You know when you're growing up and you think your parents are superheroes because they can literally do anything. You look up to them and want to be just like them when you grow up. That's how I saw my mother, she was amazing. She took care of seven kids (along with my dad), she cooked and cleaned and worked and even volunteered. She made everything look effortless. It wasn't till I got older that I realized that she had her own struggles and secrets. She had not technically lied to us but she wasnt really honest either. I guess that's what a parents job is, to keep the bad away from their children, to never let them know pain. It didn't work, if you were curious. I wondered how she kept silent all those years, maybe the turmoil of hiding the truth is what drove her mad. She gradually fell into a state of depression, losing the light that was inside of her. How could I fix someone who didn't want to be fixed? Someone who ignored that her castle walls were crumbling down around her. Just like my mother, I ignored what was happening to her, not because I didn't care. I was young and didn't know how the world worked. Maybe I was stupid and just didn't want to face the truth that I was slowly losing her to her sickness. She did things I didn't understand, hurt herself over and over. I always wondered if she was escaping her demons or her family. Maybe both? As the years went on things got worse. My siblings and I would joke that she would go on her yearly vacations, her ’ME TIME ". In actuality she was in behavioral health facilities undergoing treatments. Again, if you're curious they never worked, not for long anyways. At the time I really didn't have faith in God, I suppose I was upset with him for everything that had happened to my family, as if he was in control of our actions. I wanted someone to blame, to hate because I couldn't do that to my mother, I still looked up to her or the her that I remembered. I didn't notice the drug use at first, unlike my siblings I was oblivious to these things. I used to say I was sheltered from the world but that's not true. My brothers and sisters knew the world so why didn't I? The truth, I was scared to live so finding out even more secrets about my mother had messed with me. I pretended that everything was okay, that we were a happy family. I imagined it, I must have because the memories I had didn't fit the memories of my siblings. My mother would have angry outbursts, wailing like a banshee. Perhaps predicting her own death or the many attempted ones. Time had passed yet again and she had gotten to the point that she needed shock therapy, she lost some of herself during that time, forgetting bits and pieces of the past and present. And again more time had passed and so had one of my brothers, her baby. She wasn't the same, masking pain with silence. After he was gone, I thought we had become close, we talked and laughed, we did things that normal mothers and daughters did but was it real? I don't remember telling my mother that I loved her, even as a child, so I started. Shy and timid, afraid that she wouldn't say it back and she didn't but that was okay because that's how our family was. We didn't say I love you or even hug, at least I think we didn't, my memories blurred. Towards the end when she got sick I begged God to save her. “Just this once please, I promise I’ll be good, I’ll do better,” I pleaded to him but nothing. She was moved to hospice, apparently she had developed a flesh eating bacteria that would affect her face. The doctor's plan was to cut half of it off, her last words to me were to not let them take her face. I cried and cried and cried, I had never been without my mother. I had become codependent on her presence alone. My father had put me in charge of her medical decisions since she had become unresponsive. I was young and naive, how was I supposed to decide my mothers fate? I sat with her, talked with her. I knew she wasn't coming back but I wasn't ready to be alone even if I still had my father and siblings. They had significant others and children, lives of their own and I somehow remained the same, stuck at home afraid of the world. I didn't want her stuck here like me so I let her go, telling her we’d be fine and I thought we would be but we weren't. We were broken and lost. I foolishly thought my family was safe and perfect but I was wrong. Even now after all these years, after the passing of my mother and father I'm still stuck and alone, afraid of the world but I still believe in her. For putting up with the pain for so many years. For surviving every attempt. For not letting the drugs be her downfall and overcoming them. For taking care of us even after hers will was dwindling.

I settled for less

because growing up I didn't expect anything but

I had dreams that would only be that

figments of my imagination

I settled for less

because when I tried to succeed

I was reminded where my place was

a background character filling up space

I settled for less

because being alone

was better than being hurt

the countless times I was told I would never be loved

I settled for less

because less is more than I could ever ask for

grateful to have anything to call my own

even if what's mine

has been discarded by everyone else

I settled for less

because I was never taught my worth

made to believe that my values

could be bought

made to believe that my existence was a gift of its own

I settled for less

because what I needed most

was to flourish and grow

but I was confined to a cage inside my mind

sheltered from the outside world

I settled for less

because it's an easy way out

to deprive myself of happiness

of a life I could call my own

to break the bonds that hold me here

I settled for less

because that's what I do

I settle.

When you get sick and are told you’re unable to work for the foreseeable future you go through two different reactions.

The first being excited about never having to work again, filling your days with lunches with friends, shopping for unnecessary things you know you'd never really use. Finally getting around to all the projects you put on hold because you were too tired from …..work.

The second reaction is fear. How am I supposed to live off of a savings that resembles that of a child's piggy bank. You would think I would have saved for a rainy day but my pay is below minimum wage and so was my value as an employee but that's neither here nor there. I can't just not work, how am I supposed to….live?

My routine is as follows:

5-6 am I wake up because my body is set to wake up out of habit for work (work which I can't do anymore)

I brush my teeth and wash my face. I make sure to take my first dose of medications.

I'm wide awake so I can't go back to sleep so I watch tv, there’s nothing interesting on so i put Bob’s Burgers on for background noise.

I make a mental list of all things I want to do today, which in reality I might only do two things from the list.

I don't drink coffee or tea so I grab some water and read. What I read doesn't matter, my memory doesn't hold information like it used to.

It's too early to talk to friends ...friends…friend, the only friend I have is on her way to work.

7-8 am I rummage through the kitchen for something to eat but nothing really ever fills me up.

9-10 am I contemplate taking a nap just as the rest of the house is waking up, I'm exhausted and the day hasn't even started.

11-12 am/pm I take my second dose of medications, still nothing on so I turn to youtube to watch conspiracy theories…they’re as predictable as I am.

1-2 pm I take my third dose of medication and decide to paint and work with clay. I don't know how to paint but I try, I have all the time in the world….God willing.

3-4 pm I take my fourth dose of medication and scrounge for something that looks appetizing. My friend’s off work so she calls, there's no time to hang out because she has priorities with family that outweigh girl time. She apologizes and I tell her not to worry because I get it….I get it.

5-6 pm I take my fifth and final dose of medication and make dinner for the family, well my sister and hers anyways. I wash the dishes and clean up my mess. Serving myself a plate of what I chose for tonight's menu.

7-8 pm I write stories I keep hidden because the worlds inside my head aren't meant for the people outside my head. I write poetry that's dark and opposite of what they see when they see me.

9-10 pm I get ready for bed. Scrolling through the tv there's still nothing on so I settle on Bob’s Burgers again, it's become my white noise.

11-12 pm/am I lay in silence, in the dark of night waiting to fall asleep only to start all over again.

How did I get here? How did I go from the top of my class to the bottom of the barrel at work? Maybe I missed something, maybe this was my punishment for wanting more out of life then to be stuck in a run down town like my mother my whole life. The hours tick by leaving me no time for rest and on the off chance I do get a day off my mind won't let me. I've become an insomniac, keeping odd hours that weigh on my relationship. Why he’s stayed for so long is beyond me. I’ve neglected him, blew off dates and anniversaries. Why he stays, again I don't know. It’s not only him i neglect. My body…..my body cries out in pain each night, signaling for me to stop. I’m a masochist, enjoying the torment inflicted on me. Day in and day out i return for my punishment. Working my way up only to falter and lose my grip on what's worth my time. I choose the hard way, of course I do because I wouldn't have it any other way. My mind is jumbled, mixing my priorities with conformities. Work Days with rest days, overtime with over this. But I’m stuck, this hamster's wheel wont let me off and I run and I run and I run yet I can't seem to get anywhere.

How did I get here? Lost in the dream I was chasing all those years to end up barely living. Catching ZZZ’s is harder than catching cabs but what I really wanted to catch was a cold to slow me down , force me to rest, to not think of anything but sleep and soup and balled up tissues on my bed. Snuggled up in my warm apartment while the reality of the cold hard truth whips its anger on my window outside. I’m sick of adults lying to doe eyed kids full of wonder, telling them that their future is bright. It’s not…it's not. You struggle and break. You cry but there's no mother there to pull you into a hug , wipe away the tears and tell you everything will be alright because the truth is it’s not….it’s not. They lie to your face and tell you you can be anything, anything except happy. You're in a constant battle to stay on top, praised by your peers but as soon as you fall you're all alone to wonder.

How did I get here"

I could feel their hands all over me

The memory of them

Never leaving me

I was stuck

A constant reminder

That I was theirs

Tethered to them

By this invisible string

Holding me down

I wanted my freedom back

I wanted out

To erase everything

I knew it would hurt

My flesh peeling from my bones

It's the only way I could think of

To permanently remove their touch

To cleanse myself

From bone to flesh

Burn the memory

Of what they've done

One flick of my wrist

The matchstick illuminated

I can feel the heat

Engulfed by flames

Smoke surrounding me

Purifying me of their sins

I was painfully aware

The burden that was placed on me

My future already planned out

Who was I to fight my fate

To go against my father

I could go about my days

Carelessly playing the fool

But I knew I was meant for more To show the world the truth

That salvation is in reach

I would find followers

To help me spread the word

Praying for peace

In a negative world

Fighting against accusations

A false Messiah

But the inevitable would come

I would fulfill my destiny

The day

I would die

For your sins

I guess I had them all fooled. They believed I was this sweet and caring person who went out of their way to put everyone first. To tend to the needs of others before I considered my own. It didn't help that I played the part, feeding into their delusions of who they thought I was. I wondered how they would take the news of the real me, the selfish and heartless person that face them. Would they overlook my passed indiscretions, forget about the unforgivable things I have done. Would they still love this person who hates the world? The me who plots the downfall of those around? Would I still be sweet and caring once they found out the truth, that I despised all of them. Suppose they saw that the real me was full of hate and rage, masked by a smile. Little by little I see the truth breaking through the cracks in my lies.

There's this amped up arousal that ignites this fire inside of you.

It consumes you to the point where you're convulsing.

Your entire body feels like it's about to come undone but you want more of it, you beg for it.

You ride this high that surges through you.

You grasp and cling to anything that will keep you from floating away.

It's as if a thousand tremors vibrate through you.

It's unbearable at times, wanting it to give you a moment of reprieve but it continues to assault you.

It buries itself deep in your core waiting for you to give into it, to give into its control.

You have no choice but to let go.

Your voice unrecognizable as your body shakes from the euphoric pleasure, building up until you spontaneous combust.