Things in this house that I know belong to me:

 

a pair of once sparkling white Jessica Simpsons high heels from Nordstrom that are yellow from age,

 

a few photo albums, 

 

the shower curtain in the bathroom, 

 

some paperwork, 

 

the green chairs, my remaining floor pillow,

 

the ceramic bowls and dishes I bought from goodwill.

 

I am not even sure what I am supposed to consider mine.  Even my own self feels like its been taken. What I wish I could give to those I loved, seems to have been vanished.

 

Nothing else is mine, nothing else I earned. And even these things that I can tally are not my own, what i have is others . So idk why it makes me feel so sad that there is nothing I can point to and say, see that, I did it, i earned it, thats to show for my work. Its bizarre, ie always had the idea that anything we have is from god for everyone, but yet I feel so misplaced in this house that is not mine. I have always had this idea that we don’t now anything anyhow, so why is tho snugging me so damn much? Like i never got why we claimed landed, except for the fact that there are evil bustards out their who would secure their own comfort and let others starve. and tarts what it feels like now, it feels like my family se securing our own wealth while the people around us struggle, it does not seem right and obviously idsnt fair or kind. 

 

Not even my own children are mine. My first was cut out of me and my second was ripped out of me.  Even the food i grew this year came from seeds a friend borrowed to me. 

 

I made it through high school  from the charity of a few kind teachers, i made it to college by a few kind business men who offered me their charity that I wasted on failing the same class 3 times. My first computer was made by some pitying friends. My first car was bought by my boyfriends family, my first hobs given by family who didn’t even trust me to clean toilets. The table, bed, chairs, computers, tv, cough , rocking chair, toys, cups, ressers are all gifts from someone else. I don’t despise the people who gave them to me but I can’t breathe beneath all the things i never wanted or never needed.

 

In a way the only thing I felt I might have almost earned was finishing the line in cross country. and even in that i never for a mini;the thought i did it on my own, a whole team and other teams ran alongside me, trained alongside me, pushed me, encouraged me, couches guided me on what to eat and how much weight to life, a physical trainer warmed my injuries and wrapped my legs, my family came to cheer me on and sacrificed early morning satrudays to drive me to races. how could one even claim that they did it all on their own. why would one want to do it all on their own. i hate being alone, i hate miserably being here all alone, yet i brush offf intitiaion s of help and quit when change starts brewing. and here i am, with nothing to show. I’ve been alive, if you can call it that, for 28 years and its just this void, this slice in the line of time, so insignificant and so miserable yet full of blessings. whats wrong with me.

 

I ponder, there was a time I could have taken care of myself? When i look back, i don’t see that opening, all i see is blankness. Ive been other’s charity, being abused for other’s pleasure, being given pitty when all i wanted was a bit of empathy, when all i needed was to be given space to grow . So what does a girl do whose earned nothing and cannot care for herself? I don’t know but I know I cry, too much.

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About anderzoid

Life is Bittersweet. God is love, the rest is minor. Ever evolving. Incorporating the ancient & alien into the home environment.
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