There once was a child born underwater. Her mother felt it safer and a better way to grow her. She lived her days watching her mother and all else walk over her. From where she stood neither way of living looked better. Her mother was sick and kept the extent of it from her, by the time she found out her worst nightmare was upon her. She knew there’d be people wanting to save her, but she wasn’t so sure if they really wanted to help her. The death of her mother made her pull herself further. Under the deep blue filter the people looked smaller, were they just ghosts of what was offered? She questioned if these realms were even for her. So many people arms outstretched above her, still, she just continued to swim down under. As she saw the helping ropes and good blessings she started to realize that she should have never even bothered. Every day is a horror that she cursed these poor people hoping to see the drowning child to touch and comfort. She never learned and didn’t want to, still, she felt bad for the people above her. She should try to live like they, she thought often. She was never able to get past horror. She’s still down under the water filling it with tears and salt hoping to choke her.
Tag: remembering
Almost Mother’s Day
Almost a whole decade. I find it strange that I never thought to do something for you on this day. I think of you, I think of the things I made for you, had wanted to do for you, and with you. I wonder if I’m doing bad in your eyes, even though you had never thought so before. I still feel bad you know. That someone with such life, amazing dreams, and unconditional love had to leave. I’m nothing like that. There isn’t even anything I want anymore. I’m just living now, being forced to care about so much when I just can’t wait to go to sleep. I can’t even remember much of the past. All the bad conversations, you protecting me like a mother bear, the almost openess we shared. I do miss you, even though I tell myself I don’t. I am upset that we hardly have any pictures together, that I never really got to learn about you from you. I’ve heard many stories about you after your death, I wish I knew your version of it though. As I scrolled down my Facebook feed and saw old pictures of people with their mother’s, I can only remember us having three pics together. Sixteen years with the person that carried me and we only have three pictures together. You almost listened to me when I said to write a will, we almost got close, you almost fell in love again. I’m almost ready to become a person again. I love you.
inquisitivepenelope 