They say the souls of people who die a traumatic death stay left behind, lost in a world they can't understand, trying to comprehend what has happened to them without ever discovering the truth about their existence, or lack thereof.
My first memory of you hitting me is me running up a staircase in the basement we used to live in, trying to hide from you. Screaming, hoping that someone would save me, but everyone in that house was as scared of you as me.
Fast forward a few years, I blame you for the reason I fucking hate math. I'll never make millions in finance or know how to save because of you. I was probably in second grade when I couldn't get long division. It wasn't enough for you that I was top of my class. You needed to show me that you would break my little toes with a sledge hammer you physically held over your back if I couldn't divide those fucking numbers.
Fast forward a few minutes later to my body on the ground and you knelt over me holding your palm over my neck, making sure your fingertips could touch the floor underneath my head. Your hands were always bigger than the world to me until that moment.
I wore turtlenecks for two weeks after that by the way. I fucking hate turtlenecks, too.
How about the day I used a bunk bed as a cage hoping you couldn't fit inside to crush me with limbs, but boy I was wrong. Your legs were long enough to kick the air out me. Your arms were long enough to make sure your fists could prove a point:
You are a man. I am a child. I do not speak unless spoken to.
You are a man. I am a child. I do not speak unless spoken to.
You are a man. I am a child. I do not speak unless spoken to.
On the day of my sweet 16, I didn't want to dance with you. I danced with my mother before you and when your turn came you instantly started crying. You told me I should behave and stop being such a pain in the ass for you. It hurts your heart. I laughed.
Let's talk about the day I couldn't take it anymore. I was 18 and you came at me like a freight train. You had something to deliver and it would hurt if I got in your way. Shit, I might die, and I wanted to. I was already dead inside.
I pulled my own hair out of my head before you could reach me. I punched myself all over my body. I screamed that you made me not want to live anymore.
You acted surprised. Look who the fuck is bambi now. You had nothing to say to me. You didn't come near me. You didn't say I'm sorry. You just looked at me.
It's that I lived with you for 18 plus years and you didn't even know I was lifeless, you didn't even know that you killed me
and I can't remember the time I wasn't a ghost,
so I can't even tell you when it happened,
or how you did it,
Now I roam the earth practically a figure of everyone's imagination,
everyone gets to choose who I am or what I mean when noises leak out of me
Every one gets to see a scariness they've never witnessed in their life when they meet me,
because I used to be someone and maybe I would have grown to be someone better, but now the world will never know.
This is so powerful and I adore it. The ending has my heart.
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