Its not that I dont love you. Its the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him, I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess of cracked ribs and depression pills. Its not that I dont love you. Its all the blood in the sink. Its the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my best friend was going to be okay after the boy she loved told her he didnt want her anymore. Its the crying and the fluorescent lights and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. Its not that I dont love you. Its the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my sister while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend cheated again with his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained on her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away. Its not that I dont love you. Its the six weeks we had a substitute teacher in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldnt handle getting out of bed. When she came back, she was smiling. But her hands shook so hard, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you cant fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any of our essays. Its not that I dont love you. Its that I do.
Posted on: Fri, 12 Dec 2014 03:56:16 +0000
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