if reality has ever hit me as hard as it has
it would be my parents' divorce.
no, no, don't misunderstand
it's a good thing
my mother is abusive
but you see, all my entire life
all of it
i have only ever dreamt
of living with my father.
just me and him
nothing to harm us at all.
i imagined it
as running through a field of daises in the country
he always wanted to live in the country.
i imagined it
as pizza every night and no rules
he was always laid-back.
i imagined it
as waking up to the smell of eggs and bacon and fried ham
he always cooked it the best.
i imagined it
as no school and a simple life
it's what he always wanted.
i imagined it
as stealing the tea from him and taking a sip
he hates when i do that
i imagined it
as laughter and immaturity
he wasn't ever mature
i imagined it
as forehead kisses and hugs
i imagined it
happily.
but no.
no.
that was, in fact, not the case.
do you see what i forgot?
i never once thought about what it would take
to get to those moments.
i'm not running through a field of daises
i'm running through a field of wet, dead grass in the suburbs.
i'm not getting pizza every night with no rules
i'm getting pizza every other saturday with one rule:
don't tell your mom.
i'm not waking up to the smell of bacon and eggs and fried ham
i'm waking up at my mom's house to the smell of alcohol and dust
no, there is school.
and it's the worst it's ever been.
i'm failing science
my intelligence isn't where it should be in math.
it's not stealing a drink of his tea
it's not wanting to because now it's always watered down
it's not laughter and immaturity
it's frustrated cries and vulgar words
it's not forehead kisses and hugs
well, it is
but they're fake.
they're hollow
something isn't there when he does it
like the value of it has somehow faded away
like we're trying to squeeze the pieces of our pasts back together
with used tape
that we've torn off and put back on and readjusted over and over and over again
oh, it is not happy
dear mary and joseph
it is not happy.
you want to live with only one parent?
i'll tell you the truth.
you won't get to.
they'll see your bruises.
they'll see your puffy red face and they'll see your scars
they'll see your blood and they'll see your cuts
all things that it wasn't you that done them this time
they will see it all
and tell you right to your face
the only reason we believe you
is because the bruise on your leg looked fresh.
there are rules.
and this is what they are:
1. no one will believe you.
2. she will never quit screaming.
3. you will still be left in her care
4. she will threaten you
5. she will deny any drinking and abuse
6. she will blame your father
7. only 14% of testifying fathers have gotten custody
8. 86% of testifying mothers have gotten custody
9. they will always believe the mother knows best
10. SHE DOESN'T.
this doesn't sound like a poem does it?
it's not.
i'm just writing. this isn't a poem.
it's the truth.
you won't be frolicking through a field of daises waking up to eggs and bacon in a sunday morning on a summer day holding hands with the parent you want.
instead,
your fate will be decided for you.
on the twenty-first of may, 2018
my fate will be decided in a mediation
you do not get a choice
you never have.
you never will.
your fate rests in your lawyer's hands
and she will drop it.
why am i still seeing my mother
if she abuses me?
why am i still alive
if i don't want to be?
what's stopping me?
no, here are the rules darling:
1. you don't get a choice.
2. your fate is not in your control.
3. no one will believe you.
4. your grades will plummet and you won't care
5. you will cry
6. you will scream
you will rampage across your own life
and though you believe it was your mother
it was you
you were the architect of your own destruction.
you will learn one thing during a divorce, and it is this:
you hold the gun
but the parent holds the trigger
i hold the gun
my mother holds the trigger
and i hope she pulls it.
and now i will ask you two things:
did i say the gun was against my head?
and
if it is your gun
why are you allowing someone else
to hold the trigger?
if it is your life
why are you allowing someone else
to hold the strings?
if you want to change
change.
cut your hair
dye your hair
don't ask your mother
don't ask your father
just dye it
just cut it
just get that piercing you've always wanted
tear up your clothes
your life is yours to live
you do not have to wait until a friday night
to do what you've always wanted
here is your warning, they don't want you to know this:
in court, they hold the gun
but you hold the trigger.
and i am on my knees, begging you,
fire it.
