To the sky…thank you B.

I can’t get unstuck.  Everything seems to be moving in fast motion.  I can’t breathe and I’m having trouble seeing clearly.  My throat begins to tighten as I become aware of the time that has passed.  My eyes well with tears as I take heed to my inner voice telling me I have failed.  Another year.  Another Christmas.  Another birthday.  The already small voice inside me saying, “this year will be different,” has faded.  It is but an indistinct noise easily ignored.  Overshadowed by other voices telling me that the bills are due, and Jazz’s sweet sixteen is fast approaching.  There is no end in sight to the madness that has become a normal way of life.  I’ve tried a thousand times to break the cycle of insanity.  It’s been too long now.   I am beginning to think I don’t know another way.  Since the dark womb.  There has always been chaos.  Daddy’s rough fist against mommy’s teary cheek.  The shrieking.  The screaming.  The begging.  The soul piercing cries.  Hers and mine.  Daddy’s foul breath, him screaming unforgivable words.  I miss him.  What I wouldn’t give to have him back.  To feel the warmth of his sober embrace.  I’m sorries and I love yous causing a stream of recycled tears to pour from my tormented eyes.  My own abuse is a blur.  The rape.  The closed fist punches hitting my numb body.  The suffocation. The misery of seeing his face for the twelve years I won’t ever get back.  I won’t ever miss him.  I pity him.  But I forgive him.  My children won’t allow me to harbor hatred towards him.  I can’t ever hate the person who helped me to conceive them.  I’m stuck.  Stuck in a rut.  It’s dark, and damp, deep, and slimy.  I am trying to claw myself out.  My hands are raw and bloody.  I am trying to scream.  But there’s no sound.  The walls are closing in on me.  The last glimmer of light is dimming.  God help me.

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