There was a time that I remember laughter, a smile or two and interesting conversation for all to participate, when a family that was not much of a family at least tried to play the part. A time when I was asked to go and do and participate and be include by choice and thanked for that which was done, call it a chore, a responsibility or something else...

...A time when things were not perfect and far from it, but much better than they are now. Sunday I took Ashley Marie for a walk and we stopped at the park and sat as serenity was before us, in back of us, all around us and not more than five minutes after returning and placing the key through the door, the yelling , the bickering, the snide remarks started all over again. The ones that made me leave in the first place, and I wondered how any, even one, could and can call me miserable when its the antics of childish adults that spawn a web of deceit, their internal anger, exclusion and self created misery that has spread throughout a house like a dark fog that will not dissipate.

And a house it is, blinds drawn, doors locked, rooms cold, doors shut as the feeling of a home is in my imagination and something I was promised before I came here but the longer I have lasted the worse it all has become, almost as if my living is an expense not worth investing in. But ask me to do something and me say 'no' and the silence is deafening, not for a day but for several and in some ways the ice created never has melted and the walls constructed cannot be torn down as the hurt is too deep, the pain too great and the end to near now to reverse a cycle that caused me to leave the same situation years ago, me vowing never to return, only doing so out of fear of my predicament and the wish that I find the love I never felt as a child, the child that cannot grow up in a place where the adult in me is ignored and disrespected for the adult in me is not known and is ignored as I was never known as an adult and every opportunity given while here, the doors have been slammed, not shut but slammed, in my face as its easier to play in the past than to learn truth and its the lack of truth known that will haunt when I no longer am on this plain, am no longer able to be discussed behind my back and ridiculed as was the child for the adult was never known nor wanted to be known.

My thoughts are my own and often kept to myself as my trying to hide not feeling well has become a difficult task, even noticed by neighbors that have watched me walk, said hello over the last few months and have recently commented on the exhaustion they see, the weight loss noticed, offering their assistance and giving me an address if I need anything, me not taking it seriously and I, sadly cannot remember their names, only faces as names were not important then as my spirit felt well and my mind powerful and now I notice the difference, feel the difference and choose not to think about the finality that is before me unless I am alone as I have been gifted to out live all the critics, those that have had the time and a chance to get to know me, to ask me to participate as I have often asked them and the answer has been a consistent
'NO'.

Blinds closed, doors locked, TVs blaring and all thinking their own thoughts, degrading one and degrading another, and often...
silence abounds for the small talk is redundant and repeated too often and those not remembering twisting an other's words to create a war of words, a joust that I frown the thought of but will no longer allow, as my name is muddied in the waters I see, the water now murky and not worth drinking.

And to have a roof over my head, this I am grateful for but to know that I have asked, begged to go and do while I still could and it has not happened, never happened, is a lump in the throat that cannot be swallowed as the hurt is too great and the time,
too late.

to be continued

I refuse to walk away from my thoughts and feelings out of the fear that they are twisted and cause me more grief as the paraphrasing and deciphering by another is done to benefit the self and not me and thus, I will continue to write my truth, not considering what another may say as they say it regardless, never fearing my feelings, as my feelings have no merit when another wants or puts their own spin on words for their own benefit, their own selfishness and possibly their own guilt...
A completed piece will forever be criticized as another can do better, be better and act better in their minds but in reality the truth haunts their existence and thus, to remain true is not only my right, but my fairness to thine self and others,
well,
comment they can and sometimes do and if not, be bothered as it's something within them that creates a bother and possibly that something is feeling or knowing the same truth I write about...