KEEP OUT!

Lest you be snared by a hopeless drone.

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Drone Daries
oathomoon
Nee kimi wa ima dare wo omotte iru no? Watashi wa kimi wo omotte iru yo. 

Yesterday I was tired and dizzy from the lack of sleep I had the night before, I was on my way back home and on the freeway I had this strange feeling I remembered something that happened a long time ago. So long in fact that it almost seemed like a dream. All of a sudden I felt so embarrassed and I thought to myself, "How could I have never notice something like that." To think that there is still a lot of pain when thinking of times like that. You know it was odd that it comes up now when there is nothing remarkable happening. Like a day dream only more haunting and the feelings I get are not like when I was younger, I was fearful when I was younger, now it embarrasses me and makes me feel hurt to have been treated that way. You grow up thinking about how horrible it all was but you learn to live with it then one day you just realize that as a being, humiliation by someone claiming to be a parent makes one not only feel awkward but at a loss for words. A sort of resemblance to what a caged mistreated animal and how it would perceive its surroundings; like a savage beast that is rabid with rage and fear. Did we truly need to be taught a lesson with things that would leave scars in our very souls. I couldn't help but feel off, I guess it's because to this day I am calling them parents. It never occurred to me that I would feel this way ever. I still love them but I can not deny the fact that yesterday was the first time I acknowledged just how deeply their abuse affected me. 

I wondered if I would truly be alright. Then I thought, yes I will. I think of those things and they hurt me more and more, because I am older and am able to understand just how deep their fault really is. It solidifies the desire to one day raise a family that will be raised by parents who love them unconditionally and without perversion. I feel it beginning and the water within me starts flowing. Cleansing the stale murky muck I have inside of me.  I don't feel so bleak and slowly the urge to live a life is emerging not just on a surface level, deeper down. I used to have to pretend before, to smile when I didn't want to. to occupy my mind with things I had no interest in. Which is partially why I would leave them half way done. I could not for the life of me complete something that was not interesting to me. feigning interest is a very easy thing for me to do but it was not me so I really did not have the ability to see it all the way through. There is a time in ones journey when the passion you have fuels your drive and continues to push you through all the way to the finish line. That is what I was lacking. In my denial phase I blamed myself for all my mistakes, all my short comings. I wondered why it was that I had no desire for anything. Was there truly nothing that I would be good at or that I would love to do. Am I to be someone who is content to live a life being a slave to feelings of past regret? 

To me that was unacceptable. I would run, I would hide. The things I hated most I was living but I had no understanding as to why I was like that. I kept going back. Why I felt that I was not fit to find a place that would help me bloom. I chose deserts and things that sucked away life not gave life. Now I find that I need to stand on my own feet but I have been kneeling so long it feels as though I lack the adequate experience to stand on my feet. Long have I let my body, my mind, my soul, my spirit be trampled by my feeling of inadequacy. I thought that if I live a life of servitude I would be rewarded but that is not the case for I was serving the wrong things. It is not to late though for me. Although it does not feel like it right now, because of how recent I have come to understand these things, but things are moving forward, as life always does. I wonder if I will get rings around my soul that tell the tale of life's erosion. Perhaps I shall see when I pass. For now I know what I must do. I have found a new piece of myself, and now I must apply it to what I need to do. 

The memory was watching television with my grandmother, I remember now feeling so close with her because no one else was in the house. She smiled at me, around her I had always felt that we were distant. I only wanted her to love me as grandmothers do. So for the first time she allowed me to sit next to her and spend time with her. Watching things she loved to watch. The kids were outside playing, being caged in a house they where like wild animals back then. Jumping off of walls and trees. Competing to see who can jump from the highest step. In comes Aaron crying he had hit himself from jumping off of a step that was to high for him to have jumped off. My grandmother having had several rowdy kids just shrugged it off and told them to continue playing outside. He stops crying and washes his face and they go back outside and continue playing. Everything goes back to normal and we forget about the whole thing. Fernando comes home from work and comes up to me and asks me why it is that the kids are outside playing. My grandmother turns to him and says because I told them to go outside to play. Disregarding her he turns to me and asks me why they were outside and now with a harsher tone states after I specifically told you that no one is allowed to go outside. I was scared because my grandmother had insisted they go out she wanted to watch tv and they were loud, besides she's a bit old school and believes that kids need outside air. She stepped in again and said Fernando I told the kids to go outside. He looked at her and said But I told Lovey that they were not allowed to go outside. And because you are here, she is deciding to ignore what I told her and undermine my authority. He always said I did these things on purpose. Like I got some joy in getting hurt. Like I got some pleasure in pissing him off. with all of us lined up one by one our hands on the coffee table he would hit us, each time never knowing when it was coming. It would stop and we would brace for the next blow but it would not come, there was no sound, there was just silence and whimpers of the other children looking in on what awaits them, then you would relax and that is when the next blow would come always caught off guard. I remember I could hear my grandmother cry in the other room while she packed she left that same day never came to visit us while we were living in California ever again. I remember my mother crying a lot when she got home from work. Fernando telling her that it couldn't be helped. We were mocking him, so he was justified. 

I had forgotten that moment for a while. I think I even talked about it in passing before. But it didn't hit me until yesterday how far it had gotten. How bad Fernando had been to us, because we were not his children. I don't feel bitterness, I feel embarrassed at how he made us feel. It made me think back at all the times my mother would cry in her room and listen to the sounds of us cry out for her. It makes me think back at looking at the kids and knowing that I could not meet their horrified gazes. It makes me think back at listening to them plea for forgiveness or some kind of mercy and realize there was none for them. It makes me remember them looking at me with tears in their eyes and a twisted expression of pain on their faces and knowing that there was nothing that I could do. No place we could hide ourselves. When we would try to wear our heaviest of jeans we would have to drop them so that we were in our underwear. I even got yelled at for not wearing underwear while getting hit and got hit more after I put some on. I think that was more of an embarrassment on his part. Now I think of those things and I can't help thinking that it explains a lot of things. Every night scrubbing floors, washing dishes, feeding children. Making sure they took their baths. cooed them while they cried after Fernando hit us. Trying to stay as close together as possible so we could comfort one another. I wish now that I wasn't so cold sometimes. To this day there is still a bit of clinging to me residue in them. Although it has faded a bit and even now it's a bit extreme. But I remembered yesterday vivid and very colorfully the amount of tears I shed when I was younger, and I realized that I will not allow for anyone to put me down again. Or anyone I love for that matter. 

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