Perfection is You, Just the Way You Are:
I never wanted this, I never wanted to be written, never wanted to be remembered, I didn't want a single sound uttered towards me. I just wanted to remain unnoticed, and…I even thought of dying that way…it seemed peaceful.
I know what you're thinking…but no, I'm not odd, I'm just defeated.
I haven't lived long, and yet, I sound like a morbid seventy year-old. I live a peaceful life, now, but it wasn't always this way. I used to be different; there was a time when I suffered too many things.
My first recollection would have to be when I was seven…thinking back on it now, I feel horrible for not doing more: I had just come in from playing outside all afternoon, I was on my way to the bathroom when I saw my mother curled up against the wall, sobbing, her face hidden in her knees.
"Mommy, what's wrong? Why are you crying, did you fall?" I had asked as I realized the cuts and bruises all over her arms and legs.
My mother shook, like I had scared her, "Oh…nothing, I'm fine, honey. I'm making dinner now, go shower." She has said as she wiped at her face, trying to hide herself.
"Okay, love you." I had said as I kissed her cheek.
I've realized, through the years, that those cuts and bruises were my father's doings. And she would never admit it, but the reason why my father beat mother was because of us, my siblings and I.
It was the four of us, my brothers, Sam and Tai, and my sister and I. Yuri and I are ten months apart, she came first.
When I was small, just months old my parents couldn't afford to keep Yuri and me, so they sent us with an old aunt. I was always prone to colds and such, so after my first birthday, my parents took Yuri and left me. Because I was too expensive to care for, I was left behind till my fifth birthday, I don't remember my time with aunty much, but she said that I cried for Yuri when I was lonely…which was often.
Yuri and I are sisters, we have the same blood running through our veins, but we're complete opposites. She's full of pheromones, estrogen, and shallowness…she's thin and long, pale even, Yuri's popular, outgoing, and loud…While I'm not any of those. I'm overly hourglass shaped, I lack her seduction and femininity, I'm golden, I'm quiet and shy, and I'm unpopular.
But even then Yuri is my life, she could hurt me continuously and I would still love her. Because after everything she's all I've got, and she's the only one who has stayed by my side through it all.
On my fifth birthday, we were reunited, and that second that I saw her…I loved her. It no longer mattered to me if no one else loved me, as long as she did. She could be loved by everyone, while I was only liked, as long as she loved me.
I will not doubt my mother's love for me, but her love for Yuri will always be greater. I will always be the one who sits and listens, the one who smiles and speaks…I will know my mother's heart, but she will always love Yuri more! But even knowing this, my love for Yuri is unbreakable…because she's the sister that I always yearned for.
Years passed and my father became bitterer, almost like he rejoiced at the sight of our pain…while mother's eyes spoke every word and her body crippled and turned in on itself. Everything shattered, my brothers left and my parents divorced.
I got sad while mom smiled and Yuri cried.
Then the men came with their friends and their lies…and mom, so trustingly and naively, left us alone with them. At first they were honest, until we formed bonds…trusting them like brothers, and fathers or uncles. And with that love they lied and manipulated…but I did everything I could to keep it from Yuri and mom because I would never let them touch my Yuri. First it was their hands, then their mouths, and next they were spreading my legs.
But I didn't care, because it all hurt…every single bit of it. Mom wouldn't listen, I cried so much because it ached so much and I had to release it somehow…I I cut, and I ripped, and I scratched till it all went numb.
And all long no one knew because I hid it all, my tears, my pain, my cuts, my bruises, the blood. I was a thirteen year old wreck, impossibly sad and so beneath pure. I was so young and all ready I wanted to kiss death on his lips. And I can't say that I never tried, but the last time Yuri swore that she would never love me again…she wouldn't love me once I was gone, so I endured until mom found Steve.
Steve fell in love with her, and I will always love him for that. Mom slowly regained the rosiness in her cheeks and the dimples in her smiles…it was almost like Steve melted the ice she had been encased in. He gave her nicknames that made me giggle like: Wonder Woman, Pumpkin-Poop, and my favorite which was Graci-Darling.
He was the closest thing I ever got to having a real father. Because growing up my real father was always gone, too busy with his friends, and his habits, and his women. I will never know if my real father ever loved me or any of us. But my guess is that he thought us his curse because in his eyes, we were just a bunch of mistakes. But if he ever did truly love us, he showed it in the worst of ways.
I don't recall much of him, though it's only been years since I last saw him. I can remember an angry man, an empty violent psychopath, and a lonely helpless boy. He could've been an amazing man, he was smart and studious with armfuls of potential, until he touched his hands to a habit or put his lips to a drink. At times, he was sweet and caring and sometimes, for an instant, he even seemed loving.
The last time I saw his I was ten, he was crazed and senseless…that was the only time mom let him take us…or at least it was supposed to be us, but Yuri had the flu. So I was forced to go alone.
I will never forgive him for that, I don't think anyone could; no one should. All I can thank is Yuri's flu because when he didn't pay, all those men came and, thanks to that flu, she was saved. Thanks to her flu, she wasn't used as the bargain to pay off his habit…but I was.
It breaks my heart to think that my own flesh and blood father did that to me. But when was this world ever fair? Never, not even the slightest bit merciful…never!
These are secrets that I wish I could have never held for what seems like centuries.
I'm just another scared little girl, call me Noa.