Mature. Viewer Discretion is advised.
*The people inside of this work are FACE-CLAIMS. This has no correlation to any IRL individual.*
*This is messy plot. Made when I was a teen. Beware.*
The story of a young woman who finds her style, self worth...
"Crawling down from high hopes to the ground. Trouble sings along..." ♫ Run cried the crawling by Agnes Obel TW: Death.
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For nineteen years of my life, every passing day was the same until I met Bloody Valentine and all of my friends.
I would sit in my room for hours upon hours on end, hostage like a prisoner, restless and daydreaming that I had a tranquil, peaceful existence instead of the one I was given.
A life without college or church, a life without praying or ethical obligations that wore down my soul and shredded its' worth.
A life, not without no responsibility, but rather a life that held less weight on me to uphold the standards of a person I'd never be able to please.
And I would never-ever-ever be able to please my mother.
For nineteen years, I lived my life by her rules and I tried.
I flipped bible pages to memorize sermons until my nimble fingers bled.
I raised my younger brother from the time he was born because I 'needed to learn how to be a good caretaker.'
I covered up every inch of my body to appease her eyes and remove those of my step-father who was long forgotten.
I apologized after every sentence, and tore myself down to make sure she was always right, because mother knew best, mother was best. Right?
It was okay for my mother to call me a slut at age ten, a whore at age fifteen, a burden at seventeen, a nuisance at eighteen, and a poor excuse for a daughter at nineteen. Right?
Yeah, for a long time I thought so too.
But I knew better, and for the first time in my life I didn't watch my back for her.
I ignored my own mother because being around her was so insufferable.
I wished for so long that I could be reborn and replaced into what she wanted because I was never good enough.
And instead, I was rearranged into someone I, for once, liked. I was learning to love who I was and it was because of me, I did it.
Mother wasn't best, mother didn't know best, I knew best, I was best.
I was the one who was able to transform dreary colorless days into something I could survive in. I was the one who decided to abandon the cruel chains she'd tied me to and take a chance.
I changed my everyday.
I didn't wake up sad anymore and I didn't give a fuck about her.
But the saying did go: You don't know what you've got until it's gone.
"Cherry! Cherry!"
I was being jolted in my sleep and I peeled my eyes open, turning my head and letting my vision adjust to my brother on the side of my bed, crying and looking around in a panic.
