when you speak of next year, demons laugh!

a memory has been pestering me lately. it’s a good one actually. in our first ever american apartment, the sort of ancient new england triple decker that creaks whenever it’s windy, or when anyone takes a step anywhere in that building. old wood, full of holes, full of mice. my dad had purchased one of those-

“remember the air freshener?”

ah, another memory is interrupting, one that soils this pleasant one.

well, he bought those febreeze oil things you plug into your wall. they release a constant stream of scent. hated them, they made my skin feel oily when i entered the room and they were so strong.

i feel myself deflating and slipping away now that the interjecting memory has conjured itself.

was it the air freshener? or was it vanilla extract. something vanilla scented. i think i made some comment about how it made the place smell nice. he dabbed some on his fingers and pinched my nose playfully, he said there now you can smell it all the time. i laughed like a child for once, it’s the sort of cheerful hallmark christmas card memory that’s supposed to fill your childhood.

the other memory, the one that interrupted my pleasant recollection, one day my parents brought home a new can of air freshener. clean linen was the scent. i liked it so much i went outside and started spraying it everywhere. this infuriated my father. no he asked why i was doing that, i said i wanted the animals outside to smell it so they can enjoy the scent too. he screamed at me, he beat me, it turned into this whole thing, way out of proportion. he told me to get out and so i packed my bag and started to leave, i was going to go be with the animals i thought. he asked where i was going, i told him. he told me to get back in the house.

post script

i walk very quickly by a mirror in the kitchen while making breakfast and i see someone that looks like me tilt their head and smile

i speed up even further and i hear myself saying out loud “i don’t know who that is”

how terrifying. how doubly terrifying to live with such horrors daily. i know it’s not real but still, how terrifying.

post post script

i didn’t deserve to have parents like that. i didn’t. so i can’t forgive them. my absence has to be the consequences of their actions, has to be their punishment. i take it all back. i hate them. whoever it is in my home town checking this blog, i can see you. if you’re a member of my family, don’t bother reaching out. you all forsook and betrayed me, and i hate you.

i hate you.i will not stop hating you no matter what it does to me. i don’t care if it makes me ugly, i hate you. i was a beautiful child, you did not deserve me and i hate you.