I don’t remember much before him.
When I saw him my world changed.
It was always everything. We both knew it. Immediately, our lives intertwined.
I was so young. 13 is a delicate age.
When we met, he was blue and I was trying to be one of them.
A year passes, he wants something else. That’s ok. We were young. But I was devastated. My world rocked. I had to leave.
“I’m going to slit your throat, drain your blood, put it in a bottle and send it to your mother so she can she what a mess you’ve become.” -Him
14 is a delicate age. Alone again. No family. Only broken memories and a whirlwind of courtrooms and foster homes. Trying to be accepted in a whole new world.
An apology. Someone reaching out. Someone asking me for help when I thought I had nothing. All they wanted was me, right?
So I promised I’d be there.
Risks were high. A weekend home on a train to nowhere right, but he was there. Along the way.
“I’ll meet you there. Just get off the train.” -Him
I never got off the train. I was scared. I thought I had family. Maybe I could go out and visit him the right way.
I missed my train.
Years pass. Life happens.
17 is a delicate age. Living with a man, really trying to be a whole person. Still alone in a world gone wrong. Family in distant intimate spaces.
A way out.
“Pack your things, I’ll come and get you.” -Him
My knight in shining armor, here at last. This was it. We were going to be together forever. Everything was perfect.
Chaos. Manic. Love.
We were together. Beauty came. A perfect; amazing; beautiful child. Words could never express how happy I was that he was ok and that he was ours.
That he is ours.
Then there was us. The baby and I. Our son, and growing is hard.
And he worked so hard.
But I worked so hard.
And we didn’t see each other working so hard. And we were alone. There were people who didn’t want us to be together;
Who were alone;
Who were scared of being alone.
I left. I shouldn’t have left.
Then he came back.
Then he left.
Then he came back.
Goddammit. Life. I always wanted it to work.
We had this beautiful dream. Of going to hell and back. Of adventure and chaos. Everything would be ok..
But he was never really there.
And I still stumble around in all this “adventure and choas” that I thought we would be in together. All of us. Our perfect son experiencing the glory of the dreams we had.
“Stop calling us family.” -Him
I am alone.
He lives his dreams and I live mine.
I hope things will be ok someday.