I can hear the murmuring of conversation between the two of them downstairs, as he raises his voice exchanging my name in disgusts as if I left a bitter taste in his mouth. I’m poison to him.  My heart races when I hear the thunder of his footsteps against the floorboards. I hide under the covers  pretending to be asleep as I hear him approach up the stairs. I muffle my tears into my pillow in fear he’ll hear me. He stops outside the bedroom door, inspecting for movement or any sign of consciousness. But I remain silent and still. Although inside my blood is boiling, overwhelmed with the mixture of emotions my stomach churns and I feel nauseous. He makes me sick.  How can one man be so selfish? So mean? I think to myself as I replay all of the horrid remarks, names, memories that he scarred me with. Useless, stupid, fat, slut. That’s what he thinks of me…

 I’ve dug my nails so deep into the palms of my hand to enable me to feel some sort of pain, any pain to free me from the numbness that is consuming me bit by bit, day by day. I’m disturbed by the more frequent vivid dreams I have of hurting myself and the others around me. I think I’m going crazy. I’m physically, mentally, spiritually drained. I don’t know how to cope, this isn’t living. I’m merely existing. A shell of a body hosting a shattered soul. I’m lost, confused and anxious.

My eyes burn red, dry as they try to produce more tears, but alas I don’t think I can cry anymore

Tender Touch

I tingle at the first touch.

My bare body exposed to the heightened sense of the cold against my skin.

I test the waters before submerging into the depths of his dark heart.

I lay back and let it consume my body.

Check Mate

I would say that my life is like an ongoing game of chess.

A game unfamiliar to me, but others can predict my next move. A game requiring skill and strategy. The black and white board in which it is set reflects  the structured course, I must choose to make my next move . There are 16 chess pieces signifying the years of my life. There are 8 pawn pieces, usually deemed as insignificant pieces towards the game, but to me the building blocks to my game strategy. The first eight years of my life were about adapting to change. Living in Watford limited our movement, a danger and threat…literally and metaphorically.

Moving pawn number 5 our opponents pose a threat and we must move. I’m 5 years old, I couldn’t comprehend the why we had to move;- still living in a fantasy  land of kings and queens too young to understand the harsh realities of racism.

Wembley. New town. New place. New people.

I didn’t like the position I was in; The new girl being picked on, I took my anger out on my parents – I hated them for putting me in a vulnerable state. Pawn 6 and 7. I’m growing…and learning, becoming familiar with the rules of the game. The more moves I make the more I discover about myself,

My memories of my mum are a blur as she was at work a lot, but it didn’t mean that her presence wasn’t important, like the Bishop I knew she was always there to protect me.My  dad was my Knight looking after us through the years he wasnt working. I was his little girl, he’d wipe away my tears from the frequent nightmares I’d have. My fear of the unknown and not knowing has always been my weakness. This isn’t beneficial in a game of chess, you can;t underestimate your opponents next move as it could jeopardize yours..

The pawns are gone and I have taken the role of the rook.

My years playing rook were easy enough, I had the help of others to prepare me, especially Cameron my partner in crime! We are like each others back bone, sharing the same mind, and still to this very day play the same game.

From 12 years old, I took control of the game, as my teenage years approached – up until the age of 15 I took it into my responsibilities to find myself. I’d always been in the background, afraid of my own shadow unable to even think of the potential I had; mI didn’t know who I was anymore, as I used to try to fit in with the crowd.

The game is becoming serious.

I have to think ahead now. Being at uppersite helped me, I was doing subjects that I enjoyed and was good at. I gained confidence in myself to speak up and take more daring moves, leaping over other pieces. I am the Queen.

Up until recently I have played the role with skill, overcoming conflicts, obstacles such as emotions, friendships gained and lost, family and exams. All but tests in life.

Until my knight fell. Numbness…

The night I am awaken with the news of my father is in hospital.Heart Attack. Praying that I’m trapped in another one of my nightmares, and soon I will wake up and he will be there to wipe away my tears. But he’s not. Instead I’m here watching over him on the operating table, face drawn pale white. I’m living my nightmare.

This is where realisation hits me…

I can lose this game.

 

The End?

Today Tuesday the 4th of June I have officially finished High school! I had my final exams today, and now I sit here procrastinating.  It’s funny, during my revision and exams, I would list 101 things that I want to starting doing as soon as I had finished my exams, however now that its all over I feel quite lost. I’m not quite sure what to do with myself, trying to set my priorities – debating whether painting my bedroom or starting my driving lessons is more important 😛

Reflecting over my high school experience, I guess now Its struck me – reviewing the past 7 years, how so much has changed.  The friendships formed and lost. I don’t see this as the end, but a new beginning. I look forward to starting university in September, although I’m still trying to wrap my head around it, seems as though its all happening too fast- with my 18th birthday approaching I feel old!

Well on a different note, here is a poem that I made based on transformation on A Glass Menagerie – I felt as though writing this helped me to relate and accept the changes that are to come…

The seed in which she helped nurture and grow

 Now corrupted by weeds intertwining with my roots,

‘Tis all but a result of my Childish woe

Forces of nature now defining my fate

Once a beauty surrounded by the thorn that protects-

 is shun by inferior reality as I wilt.

Urging for a mother’s love she neglects

Deafened to any sense of reasoning

Rainbows paint the walls around;

Yet I’m consumed by nothing but darkness.

A stillness filled by a familiar sound-

His voice so precious and calming.

Shards of glass lay like shattered dreams;

as the candle of friendship is rekindled

My merciful reality coming apart at the seams

Not actual not lasting.

Collecting pieces, on display for all to see

Locked away they are mockingly admired

Wishing we could escape and run free.

A desire of acceptance over the sufferings of what was stolen

Now yearning to roam; a stallion of the wild!

A confined soul that can’t be refined

This unwanted crippled child

Isolated and forever alone

A mystical creature so stunning and rare,

Uniquely standing alone.

Amongst the other horses it can’t compare-

Yet broken its difference unites.

My difference however keeps me endlessly secluded

Damaged good that can never be fixed

I live in this vision deluded

Predesigned to remain cracked and broken…

A symbol of hardship and pain represented by such grace

The Blossoming blue rose

Hope still written across my face

A façade, of painted perceptions.

Good things come to those who wait, patience is the key

Though the future is unclear I still see light

A gentleman caller waits for me

Caught in this disarray, my flame shall not diminish