The Shy Girl ✔

Skylar

He felt safer than a sky embraced by the stars.

Skylar

  As I arrived at his house, I felt more comfortable than I ever felt in my mother's house. The cold air brought back memories of my unusual childhood that I wish I had forgotten. Now, the house where I live feels foreign to me.

Just as my father, I am constantly trying to find a way to disappear from every room, as if every wall was filled with sadness.

Is it weird that I feel better in my own skin with a stranger in a stiff night alone on a motorcycle waiting for one of us to break the ice?  My mother wouldn't understand me.  She could never understand me. 

   The mother-daughter attachment may have disappeared after I realized I was nothing more than a burden to her.

Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if we had been close? What if she had looked beyond my father's mistakes and accepted him for who he was? Often, I forget that these desires exist because, they are so deep within me.

  The night my father said his last goodbyes I held a lot of regret, for example I wish I could have kept him closer to my heart, maybe he would have stayed... or maybe he wouldn't have been interested in my innocence and burning desire to hold him close to my heart for a few more seconds.

In spite of my many questions, I am still unsure if he really loved me and ... whether if he loved me, he would have stayed? I have asked myself these questions for years, but no one has ever answered them for me. My mother always seems indifferent to me, keeping herself busy with her wonderful career, often forgetting about me.  Though I'm not complaining, because it didn't give her time to understand the way I'm really feeling.

As much as I loved her I have lost the desire to maintain a stable relationship with her. Emma has both supported and been a source of comfort to me for all these years, but I also feel that she is hiding pain beneath a layer of fake happiness, thinking that no one can see her true self. 

A person who has been injured will always recognize another injured person - this is a known law for centuries, or years, my history is patchy.

As a way to cover up a gap left by my family, I buried myself in trouble, parties, and stealing affection. On my way to recovery, I didn't realize or...I didn't want to realize that I hurt the people around me, on my way to saving myself. 

My enjoyment of the parties waned as the bottles passed by my lips and I no longer felt the escape I felt at first. It had become a routine, it was no longer exciting but boring, so I started smoking, and that feeling seemed to revive, making me feel elated and free with every cigarette butt that I threw over the balcony of my room.

"Are you okay?" Hunter seems to understand me but at the same time he could never fully comprehend the fact that I do not want to be understood or helped, but instead loved. 

 "I think I'm doing better than usual." He gazes at me curiously, as if to say, "I want to know more!" without being aggressive in his approach. However, after a few seconds of intense gaze, he gave up, looking everywhere but not at me.
   I knew that my actions as well as my past put him to think, probably trying to figure out which one of us is hurting more.  I don't know his past very well, but I feel that he avoids telling me many things.