Written for | Friday Frictioneers
“Berries, Berries, Berries…..”
His voice was like a hammer in my head. I was already fighting the taste of stale beer in my mouth, I didn’t want this.
“What do you want!”
“Mrs. Morris asked for real berries!”
“These are real, just a bit cold.”
“But we didn’t go up the hill to camp and pick berries, like we did with dad.”
And I lost it at that….
“Well, do you see your bastard of a dad anywhere around here?”
I don’t know if it was my shrilling, slurred, drunken voice or the loud thud of refrigerator door, he broke down.
“Mom! It’s not my fault, he’s gone.”
His every word cut deeper than the already stabbing feelings that I had in my gut and I knew then, I had to get myself together for both of us.
But all I could manage was, “I know honey, it was the Puerto Rican Bitch!”
I hate confrontations, I mean, who likes to stick their neck out and jump right into the hurt zone. I just want to mind my steps, never stepping on anyone’s path, forget about toes. I don’t want people to think I am bad. I want to be the nice one, the one who would heal.
But does it work out like that? – No Sir.
I end up letting things go way beyond control, repair or rebuild.
My silence sends a wrong message,
My procrastination on facing the truth spoils it beyond recognition and I lose the battle way before I step into the field. Nothing good ever comes out of it, then why am I still on the same path, making the same mistakes over and over again?
I need to stand up, without losing my head. Fight without fear or anger, fight for who I am and what I want to be. But I am so scared. Scared to take the first step, towards being that manipulative bitch, who, don’t just survives.
**Only text is mine, image is thankfully borrowed from “www.bestgallerytattoofor2012.blogspot.com”