spiderpanda

It was the summer of 1997 when I turned sixteen years old. My brother Mason, my mom, and I all lived together in our tiny house. A little while before our dad got locked up, we had to move to a new house, which Mason and I affectionately called the trash bin. My mom was sick on my birthday, and I spent the day trying to make her feel better while my brother was working at his friends auto shop.     Mason was four years older than I, just turning twenty a few months after my birthday. He had a hard-working, dedicated and mischievous spirit that demanded respect, and that was exactly what he got. His friend, the one who's father owned the auto

    You were once everything I had, so where did we go wrong? What was once smooth sailing is now nothing but a shipwreck, and I was left to wait out the storm. Alone in the ocean of the unknown answers and cold loneliness. Nothing but melancholy blues, shivering spines, and wrinkled skin. Ever so slowly the fog made our memories dissipate, just like the wreck did to us. Now you're nothing but a recollection, but I digress: maybe I was also wrong. Maybe I abused our trust, or asked too much. Maybe I took advantage of everything you gave, and maybe I wasn't worth it in the end. You never said a word. And what's more heartbreaking is that I don

     If my box wasn't so full, I would have been able to help my family. I would have taken care of my siblings when it became too much for my mother. I would have offered to take them to the park when I noticed gray hairs protruding from her scalp. I would have called Mike "dad" and let him drive me to school. I would have been a better daughter. I wouldn't have been such a burden.     But my box was too full of emotions. It was full of hatred for Heather, who mocked me for my weight. It was full of books to read and essays to write. Full of deadlines, waiting, and wads of paper. It was full of the boy who sat next to me in math, who talked