Thursday, July 4, 2013

A look into "Five Year Old Death"


A look into "Five Year Old Death"

Every time I thought my mother and I were getting closer things would go right back to how they were. I had finally come to realize we would never be as we were in my younger years. She was so hell bent on finding her happiness through the tip of a beer can she no longer remembered what life was like before her depression settled in for good. My brother and I took care of ourselves more than she ever had. We made sure there was heat in the house and the outside was taken care of while she played Mario brothers like a five year old with her husband. We had traded places with the adults it seemed doing all of the chores around the house. They enjoyed the weekends the most because everyone showed up to party with them and play pool leaving me and my brother to clean up their mess the next morning. It did not take long for my brother to start drinking with the adults and we both started smoking at very young ages. I even at times would drink southern comfort at the young age of eleven, if you can’t beat them then join them I always heard. Little did I realize that I was going to be just like her if I did not stop lifting that sleeping pill to my lips!

The only thing that brought me real peace was playing or sitting by the spring house that sat beside our place. The water was so calming to listen to. I always wondered where it went to as it flowed so gracefully downstream, what kind of wonders could be found outside of this wretched place that I so dreadfully hated. How many times had I lain out there until dark wishing I had the courage to run far away where I could never be found again by my mother? How many times had I wished I was brave enough to slit my wrist and watch the blood pour from my veins until peaceful rest finally found me with no more worries to face tomorrow? God I just wanted to disappear from this life that I was made to live in; I hated everything but the waters peace. Was this what I was put on earth for, to dread each morning, to hate all that walked in my life? I swore I would never live to see eighteen; if I did not take my own life then I was for sure one of my mother’s many men would. I just wanted to say my last goodbyes to the earth’s beauty and leave the ugliness of what people really were behind me. Who would even notice if I ran away? Maybe one day I would say enough is enough but for now there were many chores and beatings to live through, but one day this would end for me one way or the other.

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