benni

update and edit your journal...

update and edit your journal...

update and edit your journal...

update and edit your journal...

i slept through my life again today. my life, if you can call it that. my repetition, my routine, my rut...

cant sleep but dont accomplish anything... consciousness burns out as the sun creeps across my bed. uneasy, bad dreams. chased by demons, failed balancing act, disappointment, humiliation, shame.

open my eyes. blink. heart beating lightyears into my chest. head lolls to the side, look at the clock. three. three o' clock. three pm, two hours late already, no need to hurry now i suppose.

close my eyes.

eyes pop open. four o' clock. three hours late. now its time to hurry.

jump in the shower... stand there for hours, no more hot water, feeling lightheaded, sit. water off. steam risen, starts to get cold...

routine. comb hair. clothes... blow dry hair... resentment. every... single... day. make up. paint the eyes shut. gloss the mouth to entice and deny. i chew it off inside of an hour, anyways.

always meticulous, hair in place, face on. no one to impress but i try anyways. tear at my hair today. keep it a mess. not impressing anyone, im late.

its snowing outside. it makes me drive too fast. how i did not think on the way is a miracle.





when i was fifteen and my parents were in the throes of the nastiest divorce to which id been witness, it was made abundantly clear to me by my mother that everything was my fault.

she went so far as to say it, which, though so often implied, is a thing rarely spoken.

i hated her.

she threw me out of the house an infinate number of times; i was the whore daughter, i was on drugs. i was the rift in her relationship with my father and i was the thorn in her side. i was the bitch, the troublemaker, fuck up. useless, stupid little girl, i want you out of my house.

they would yell and argue, she would cry, throw things...

and i would leave.

and i would walk.

one of our largest fights lent a volume to my voice that i thought id never had... each time she attacked me i attacked her right back. i wanted her to cry. i wanted to hurt her like she was hurting me. i wanted to take every single knife she had buried in my back and twist it in her side...

"FUCK YOU!" i screamed at her finally, my face a mess of tears and anger. "IM NEVER FUCKING COMING BACK!"

and i slammed the door and took off walking, no destination in mind, my short gasps of breath eventually slowing but the cold turning my air to fog in front of me...

and i walked like that, not thinking, mind empty but reeling for miles until he pulled up alongside me and opened the door...

and it was my dad, my dad with his kind eyes and soft expression, and i never knew how hed found me or how long hed been driving before he did, but i sat next to him in silence while he consoled me and assured me that things would get better...

as ive so often stated they dont...

and he was the only one i could trust.





there was a moment today where i remembered to breathe, but then i lost it.