The room lay empty around me. This morning at around 9:00 AM I thought I heard the closing of the front door and Lucy's nails hitting the ground. I went to check but I was wrong. The fake cats lay un-moved from the door protecting us from the outside world. I had gotten my hopes up thinking that he would return.
He left around 2:55 PM yesterday without a word. Just stormed out into the outside world. I was thinking he would come back so I didn't fight and I didn't look back at him as he drove away. I wish I had. I wish he would tell me what's on his mind in a nice way not in a mean way. He should never harm his loved ones with cruel words. I am trying to be a better person to him everyday, choosing my words carefully. Wondering if I were to say something- how were he to respond to that. But I don't always speak. Instead I let silence consume us. But once in a while I do just say it before I think it and wonder if me doing this made him leave. I didn't say anything nasty or cruel like he did to me but I didn't cower in a corner and let him say things to me that were hurtful. I know he is stressed about this situation and bored staying at my mothers house all the time, but that's how it's going to be wether he likes it or not. Just for a little while. Until we can find a place close by to call home, this is how it's going to be.
I'm sad that he left without saying good bye to me or his daughter. I'm sad that I didn't get to say good bye to Lucy or him. I thought for sure he would be back yesterday but I was wrong. And now my heart aches for him to contact me. I check my phone periodically and yet still... no response. I had texted him something like, "Even if you don't want to talk to me can you please tell me that you are safe and where you are." I'm guessing he went back to Richmond since it is the morning. I know he isn't at his mothers house because she stopped by last night. I woke up with baby around 7 something PM. We had the house to ourselves and I went outside for some fresh cool air thinking maybe James would come back by now. The occasional car passed by our street and each time I would wait to see the back end to see if it was the orange box, but it wasn't. I turned to go inside when out of the corner of my eye I see it. His mothers pearly white Honda. She still hasn't apologized for that horrible day but I have forgiven and forgotten. But in the back of my mind I still want her to say the words to make it better than it could be. She said she was in the neighborhood. I wondered where she came from. She wanted to check up on us and see how Sophia and I were doing. I asked her if James was with her at the house knowing my answering would be no. Knowing that later that night James's mom would text him "Where are you?" and I had regretfully asked it anyway. We had a brief talk and I had told her that I was worried. She said not to worry, he has a lot on his plate and that he will be back, don't worry. Just then Sophia started crying and I had to go change her. I asked if she wanted to come inside but she said she had to be getting back home and that was it.
Saturday, September 19, 2015
Friday, September 18, 2015
10:51 AM- Morning Next
It's morning now. The crib is empty. It is warm in the room which is a first. My mother usually has the A.C. pumping these mornings. On the ground lays James and the baby. He pats her to burp. I just fed her. To the left Lucy whines for me to pet her. She just finished freshening up (usually she has a 90's hair-do, but probably because of me went for a spiky hair and bangs overs eyes look- emo style because I didn't pet her) and now she is biting her feet once more. Most likely dissatisfied that I neglected to pet her when she wanted to be petted. The sunflowers sit dead on my window. They were fresh 2 and a half weeks ago sitting in a hospital room. My fish tank sits clean and Oscar is still living well. He has now been alive and apart of this room for 1 year 1 month and 6 days. Now the crib is full with lovely people- a boy and a baby girl.
2:27 AM - The World Around Me
Sitting in the dark side by side to my daughter I hear the fish tank bubbles and see my veins pumping blood through my skin. The world around my bedroom is lit by the yellow glow of a night light. The baby makes sounds before drifting into a deeper sleep. My boyfriend is laying down near the closet playing that Plants versus Zombies II game, his face lit by the glow of the phone. To the left Lucy bites and licks her paws; she is never satisfied with them being too clean. And alas me, sitting in the dark accompanied by the yellow glow of the night light. My fingers gently pushing the letters on the keyboard. My mind drifting in and out; my face lit by the glow of the computer.
Sounds
bite bite bite bite goes the dog
creak creak creak creak goes the wooden chair
crunch crunch crunch crunch goes the zombies in the game
creak creak creak creak goes the wooden chair
crunch crunch crunch crunch goes the zombies in the game
Thursday, September 17, 2015
What to Do What to Do
I've felt like writing for a long time. 2 and a half weeks to be exact. Ever since little Sophia Marie has been born. Not to write about her though. I spend all my time looking and thinking of her. I don't want her to be in these blog posts because I would like to make a separate one- just for her. No, this blog is for my other thoughts. Thoughts I couldn't voice because no one will listen to me because they are just words. I guess this is my creative part wanting to get out, even if these words aren't creative themselves.
Click goes the air ducts, crack goes my knuckles and the soft typing of my fingers marching away on the keyboard. My left nose completely stuffed up. My room a mess but instead of my clothes- baby clothes, baby crib, baby bag, baby stuff. A combination of Nuk disposable pads, apricot Tom's deodorant and Keebler "Coconut Dream Deluxe" cookies (or something like that) all askew on my bureau. And a simple pound cake cup cake that I gave to James but he threw right back at me. He either has the baby blues like me or something else.
All I know is that he wants to be able to do things on his own without people that aren't related to him telling him what he can and can't do. I wish he would tell me these things without getting upest at me because half the time I don't know what he's thinking of. Then I start getting worried and everything seems t go down hill from there. He seems bored when he's at my house and I don't want him to be bored or upset. I don't want to ever see him hurt because if he is then i'm hurting too because I want to help him but don't know how. This whole baby thing is a blessing and is easy but repetitive and sometime tedious but we get through it. But I feel like sometimes I'm holding him back from what he really wants to do. And he can do whatever but maybe he feels constrained too? I don't really know just thinking and guessing. I wish I could peer into his mind just to understand what he's feeling so I can help in some way. But I've learned the best thing to do is to just let him be. I know sometimes if someone wants to help me I just want to be alone and then my alone time I get better. We like our privacy, our solitude sometimes. But moving on.
My room gets hot and stuffy at night and cool in the early morning. Each morning when I go pee and wash my hands, I sometimes look in the mirror. What a wrong choice I've made to do so. I look like death. White shallow face with dark circles under my eyes, and my cheeks looking gaunt. I look like a ghost not death. So I don't look to often these days. I know my grammar is incorrect on here, but on here I don't care so much. It's like each sentence has a individual thought. For example: James is sitting on the wooden chair looking out into the hallway. This room suddenly got warm again even thought the cool air was just blowing. Or. I hear the fan blowing in the bathroom. It will only go off in 20 minutes- it's a timer. I think I just want to type about anything and so these words are just words and me thinking of these things are pointless but something to do- since I haven't written in a while. Whenever he packs up his things it seems like he's hiking back to Richmond and I get sad and scared. But he seems bored here and I don't want him to be upset or bored all the time if he has a chance to do something fun for himself or if he wants to work why should I stop him?
Click goes the air ducts, crack goes my knuckles and the soft typing of my fingers marching away on the keyboard. My left nose completely stuffed up. My room a mess but instead of my clothes- baby clothes, baby crib, baby bag, baby stuff. A combination of Nuk disposable pads, apricot Tom's deodorant and Keebler "Coconut Dream Deluxe" cookies (or something like that) all askew on my bureau. And a simple pound cake cup cake that I gave to James but he threw right back at me. He either has the baby blues like me or something else.
All I know is that he wants to be able to do things on his own without people that aren't related to him telling him what he can and can't do. I wish he would tell me these things without getting upest at me because half the time I don't know what he's thinking of. Then I start getting worried and everything seems t go down hill from there. He seems bored when he's at my house and I don't want him to be bored or upset. I don't want to ever see him hurt because if he is then i'm hurting too because I want to help him but don't know how. This whole baby thing is a blessing and is easy but repetitive and sometime tedious but we get through it. But I feel like sometimes I'm holding him back from what he really wants to do. And he can do whatever but maybe he feels constrained too? I don't really know just thinking and guessing. I wish I could peer into his mind just to understand what he's feeling so I can help in some way. But I've learned the best thing to do is to just let him be. I know sometimes if someone wants to help me I just want to be alone and then my alone time I get better. We like our privacy, our solitude sometimes. But moving on.
My room gets hot and stuffy at night and cool in the early morning. Each morning when I go pee and wash my hands, I sometimes look in the mirror. What a wrong choice I've made to do so. I look like death. White shallow face with dark circles under my eyes, and my cheeks looking gaunt. I look like a ghost not death. So I don't look to often these days. I know my grammar is incorrect on here, but on here I don't care so much. It's like each sentence has a individual thought. For example: James is sitting on the wooden chair looking out into the hallway. This room suddenly got warm again even thought the cool air was just blowing. Or. I hear the fan blowing in the bathroom. It will only go off in 20 minutes- it's a timer. I think I just want to type about anything and so these words are just words and me thinking of these things are pointless but something to do- since I haven't written in a while. Whenever he packs up his things it seems like he's hiking back to Richmond and I get sad and scared. But he seems bored here and I don't want him to be upset or bored all the time if he has a chance to do something fun for himself or if he wants to work why should I stop him?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)