Getting Back To Life

    In the mind of a teenager, well they know all. It doesn't matter what anyone says. It doesn't matter who does what. Something bad happens. It won't happen to me. Something good happens to someone else. I hope it happens to me someday. One has their "group" in high school. Either accepted or not accepted. Then one day all of them are gone. Either betraying, lying, or dying because of drugs. Walls are built to protect the inner mind from the same damage. Yet, that one person you allow yourself to attach yourself to; shreds you to pieces. Takes you down to the lowest you can possibly go. Takes your mind to places you never thought it could go darkly. Wishing nothing more than death.

    I thought I knew it all. I thought I knew exactly what I was doing. I wouldn't listen to anyone. I would do what I want when I wanted and I didn't care who I hurt to get what I wanted. I had friends in my mid teens, but by my late teens early 20's they had dwindled. I cared about nothing, but partying, and whose attention I could get. I believe the kids these days use the word "whore." I got my heart stomped on, and shredded to pieces that I felt compelled to make others feel the same pain I felt. The walls that I built to protect my inner mind from completely losing itself. Alcohol fixed it when I was out dancing. It fixed everything. I didn't care. I could feel again those good feelings before people destroyed my inner trust & shredded my heart to pieces. At this point, I had no heart, and frankly I didn't care. As long as I did what I wanted, when I wanted; I didn't care. I had no friends. I liked it that way. Less drama. Less hurt. I had various "boyfriends" if you want to call them that, but I just used. I didn't care; like I said. I hurt them before they hurt me. Unfortunately, for me, that didn't last long .Someone actually cared enough to break through..

    Rich wasn't supposed to be "that guy." The one that breaks through everything. The one that cared. I was in the mist of an unplanned prenancy. I was a mess mentally, and yet this man wanted me. I tried to detach myself, but then the miscarriage happened, and I clung onto him as if he were my life line. I couldn't breathe if he wasn't there by my side. My mother, I wanted no where near me since the night before I asked her what to expect from a miscarriage (I had started bleeding and cramping.) She looked at me with such hatred, and said "Oh, that's what you're going to call it! Whatever! Be a fucking murderer!" She thought I was making up some story to have an abortion. And to be honest, I was going to, but I was too early in the pregnancy and had to wait. I was 20. With no money. No stable home. And frankly, to selfish to care for another human being besides myself. But a murderer? Me? That day, I went to the hospital, and I woke up Rich to take me. I called my sister crying because it hurt so bad. Pain I wouldn't inflict on my worst enemy. I told her not to call my mother. I wanted her no where near me. We got to the hosptial, and unfortunately they told me there was nothing that they could do; that I would have to ride it out, but wanted to do tests to make sure there weren't any complications. So while waiting, who shows up with my sister. My father and my mother. Oh, now she cares? Now she believes me? Now I'm not a "murderer?" I finally got called in, and I said "I just wanted Rich with me." This poor guy that had barely known me 2 weeks. He must have been thinking "WTF! am I getting myself involved with!" I needed him by me. They did the tests. My parents kept asking to come in. I finally allowed them to come in after 3 hrs. I treated my mother as though she was spit on the ground. I wanted her as far away from me as possible. Of course, she left in tears after I yelled at her about something stupid and my dad turned on me. I didn't have the heart to tell him what was said to me the prior evening. In fact, no one knew she had said that to me. I left the hosptial with nothing more than a hurting uterus & a boyfriend who I wasn't so sure would want me around anymore.

    We went back to our prospective houses that night. He was tired. I was in pain. I thought I would never see him again. He called the next day wanting to see me. I smiled. I ignored my mother to the best of my abilities for the next 4 days. Frankly, I didn't give a shit if the woman had never contacted me again, but she just wouldn't leave me alone. It was a Tuesday, my dad stopped by. Told me to knock my shit off as far as my attitude towards my mother went. I still hadn't told him. All of a sudden, I started cramping, bad. I ran to the bathroom, and what was left of my pregnancy came out. I was so revolted. At myself. At what happened. Everything! That weekend, my brother and his wife went out & Rich. I got wasted, and on the ride home I let it out. Punching the seats. Yelling at the top of my lungs what my "mother" had said to me. The pain was too much for me to bear. Always having to inflict mental pain on me. Whether she knows she does it, or not. I do not know, but she did & still does. I was now convinced that I was a "murderer." A feeling that I still feel to this day in my heart & brain. I was a "murderer."