You chose your friends.� You chose your lovers.� You chose the pants you wear.� You chose the perfume you spray.� You chose the color of your walls.� You chose the conditioner you put in you hair.� You chose the dinner you eat.� You chose the alcohol you consume.� You chose the people in your life.� You chose when to fight.� You chose when to walk away.� You chose your roommates.� You chose everything in your life.
I am strong.
I am weak.
I have a strong personality, I can be a lot to handle.� I have moments where I donapos;t even like myself.� I sometimes say things that even I find inappropriate.� I have great manners.� I have great parents.� I have a mother who taught me how to be and act proper in every way.� I can attend a black tie event with the same ease as baseball games.� I can mingle, and I can make small talk with anyone regardless of status.�
I grew up very priviledged.� I grew up with everything I ever needed.� I chose to sneak off and read books.� Iapos;d disappear for hours.� Iapos;d get lost in the pages of ink.� I read everything I could get my hands on.�
My father always told me I was far more mature then my age, when I was young he told me I was stuck in a childs body but had the mind of an adult.� Fiercely independant.
Iapos;ve made many mistakes in my life.� Iapos;ve done a lot of things that I wish I hadnapos;t.� Iapos;ve hurt people.� Iapos;ve been hurt.
Iapos;ve made a mistake. �Iapos;ve made a terrible mistake and I need to fix it.
Hereapos;s a secret that no-one knows.� Hereapos;s something that no-one will ever hear me really say.� Hereapos;s something that I am embarassed about, and my pride keeps me quiet.
I should have never moved in with Mario.� I should have never gotten an apartment with him.� I should have listened to everyone who told me it was a bad idea, I should have thought about it harder, and listened more.
Iapos;m scared of him.� Iapos;m terrified of him when he drinks.� Iapos;m terrified heapos;s going to kill me.� As much as he claims heapos;d never lay a hand on me, Iapos;m terrified of every red bull and vodka he drinks. �
Heapos;s an alcoholic.� Heapos;s a coke head.� He uses steroids.�� He has no self control.
I feel like a child.� I feel like I have an alcoholic parent who makes me hide in my room waiting for him to pass out.�
Tonight was the second night in a row that he spit on my face as I sat there and just stared at him.� The way he screams at me is enough emontional battering that I should be a mess.� It doesnapos;t affect me.� What he says doesnapos;t matter - I know who I am.�
Heapos;s bi-polar.� He hugs me and tells me how much he loves me.� A minute later heapos;s screaming how Iapos;m nothing but a spoiled little bitch.
He scared me enough tonight that I questioned if I should call the police.
Unhealthy.� My pride keeps me quiet.� I say how wonderful he is, which is only when heapos;s sober.�
Lucky saw everything tonight, Lucky just stared at me.� Lucky refused to leave, he said he couldnapos;t leave me alone with him.� I told him iapos;d be fine, that Mario has done this before, multiple times.� That Mario does this often enough that aside from it giving me anxiety, it doesnapos;t hurt like it used too.� Lucky yelled at Mario, screamed at him that half the stuff he was saying was so wrong.� That I was such a beautiful person that he couldnt even believe that Mario had the nerve to say what he was.�
Mario knows not what he says.� Heapos;s drunk.� Heapos;s high.� Heapos;s not himself.�
Tomorrow morning, heapos;ll cry and tell me how sorry he is.� Heapos;ll beg for my forgiveness.� Heapos;ll tell me how much he loves me.� Heapos;ll tell me he didnapos;t mean it.� Heapos;ll ask me to go get food with him, and heapos;ll insist Iapos;m amazing and that weapos;re great.
He doesnapos;t know what he does.
I do.�
Alone in my head, I hear and see it all.� I donapos;t speak.� I donapos;t say a word. �I let him yell.� I let him get it out.� I wait.� Sometimes he stops because Iapos;m just not paying attention, sometimes he doesnapos;t.� Tonight he got two inches from my face.� Tonight Lucky told him to back off.��
Most times, heapos;ll scream - then make another drink, Iapos;ll stay around just to make sure Petron is okay, Tobie will already be hiding in my room - most times Tobie and Petron are both hiding in my room...if Iapos;m lucky, heapos;ll forget about Petron and Petron is safe.� Other times, he gets mad, yells for Petron, Petron never comes and then heapos;ll scream at me that itapos;s my fault his dog doesnapos;t listen to him anymore, as he physically removes him from my room.� I donapos;t say a word. �When heapos;s sober iapos;ve told him the truth.� Petron is scared of him.� So scared that when Mario goes to grab Petron, he pees.� So scared that he trembles when Mario calls for him.� So scared that he smashes his little 5lb body as close to me as he can when Mario is upset, he begs me to protect him.� Theres only so much I can do.� Iapos;m scared of Mario too, but Iapos;ll take a hit before he hurts that little dog.� He sleeps with me every night because Iapos;ve never once hit him.� I take him to the park.� I use words to scold him when heapos;s bad, and show him what heapos;s done wrong.� He trusts me.� Mario doesnapos;t know his own strength.
I can handle being yelled at.� I went through USMC�bootcamp, getting yelled at isnapos;t an issue.� Difference though - when being yelled at by someone who doesnapos;t know you - itapos;s not personal.� It has no emotion.� When you get yelled at by someone who does know you, itapos;s nothing but personal.� Theyapos;re going straight for the jugular.� Sticks and stones may break my bones....but your words will never hurt me.
I want to fix him.
I want him to be okay.� I want him to stop.� I want him to realize he has a problem.�
I want every one of my friends to be happy.� Iapos;m the emergency contact for so many of my friends, because they know Iapos;m there in a minute if Iapos;m needed.�
I want nothing but good things for everyone around me.� I donapos;t vomit sunshine, but I believe everyone deserves to live life in the light.� I help people.�� I buy a meals for a homeless people, I volunteer at humane societies.� I go to nursing homes and talk to elders, they have so much to say, they have such amazing stories..why are they so forgotten?� Time is currency, I use mine to try and better the world even if itapos;s in such tiny ways that it goes un-noticed.
I see beauty in everything.� I see love everywhere I look.� The simplist things make me happy.� My dog sleeping comfortably.� My kitten curled in a ball.� Babies giggling.�� Sun shining.� Green grass and fresh flowers.� The ocean.� Wind in my hair and kisses on my forehead.� Warm hugs.� Elders reminicing.�
I seek the good in everyone.�
I want to fix him.� I want to help him.� I want to help him be different.�
Or, I want to leave...but where do I go?� Anywhere.� I can go anywhere I want.
My home should be my sancuary.� My home isnapos;t a place I should be scared in.
Kitten in my lap.� Hard to type when your arm is half covered by a little 7lb body.� Tobie is now keeping my feet warm.� They know.� Momapos;s okay.�
Trapped in my own head, too proud to tell anyone the truth.� I wish sometimes that I had someone to rescue me.� Sometimes I donapos;t always want to be the strong one.� Sometimes I wish I could curl up in a ball and just be held.� Sometimes I want to be a little girl, and instead of the one always taking care of everything, I wish�I was the one being taken care of.� Just sometimes.� Just once in awhile.
Patience.
...though you are gone, sometimes you still walk beside me..
I am okay.� Iapos;m always okay.
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