The Definition of Insanity

My Birthday

So today is my birthday. I’m finally 15. I didn’t want to submit this to the newsfeed because I’m a bit uncomfortable with that type of attention. I don’t know, I’m weird My mother and I lit two candles for my sisters this morning, and said a few words. I hope they were looking down and grinning. Oh and some of my family texted me happy birthday messages. I find it interesting how some people remember while others forget. It doesn’t bother me Just a random thought of mine.

I’m not sure what to write today, so I’ll come back later.

Adíos, hasta pronto.

He vuelto mi amigos.

The candle is still burning but I’m feeling...sad? I’m not exactly sure what is going on in my emotion cabinet right now, but I do have a few words to share. A few days ago I posted a story based on a prompt challenge; it was a what if for me basically. What if my sisters came back? What if they played a game with me and one cheated? What then? It didn’t hurt me. In fact, I didn’t care. My emotions were mere blips in an ocean of thoughts, too far off to be recognized and easily avoided.

See, there’s been many instances over my life where I’ve grieved them. Late night pleas, birthday prayers, begs to God to answer me. My tears would slip down my tiny face as I asked Him that same question, over and over. “Why did you take them from me? We were supposed to be together. Why’d you take them?!” I remember wanting to scream it sometimes, wanting to get the pain out like I’d seen my older brother do so many times. Except he couldn’t control that. And I could, so I never aired my grievances in such a way.

There were so many days I longed to see their faces, feel their arms around me, tell them I loved them. But they remained in Heaven, where they belonged, with our Heavenly Father. And I hated it.

However, it’s been about three years since I’ve felt that sadness, and I’m not that little kid anymore. I love God and while I may not be an adult, I am somewhere in-between.

Though the impression the nasty beast left is something I haven’t been able to shake. I can sometimes still feel it’s claws stabbing my airways, a wrenching agony pouring from me as I try to swallow, and hot fiery heat. I hear it as it snarls poisonous words, almost giddy as it tears the wound of loneliness inside of me open a mile wide. But if I were to make it to half an hour alone, the monster would be gone, and my prayer answered. Yes, isn’t it a joy? The sadness would be gone. But by then, the rest would have followed.

Esto fue sólo un respiradero, supongo. Nos vemos luego.