A silly essay I did a few months ago :)

Andrea Román
Short Story
Creative Reading




For you who does not really care:


I remember it was a cloudy morning and I didn’t want to wake up. I thought about staying in bed for the rest of the day “school is not that exciting” was the first thought that invaded my mind. Nothing was after he left, after everything he said, and yes Mrs. Stupidity wanted to believe him, that is what you do when you really love someone isn’t it? To believe that they are saying the truth even when deep inside, you know it is all baloney. Great, my thoughts are wandering again into that space in your head where you place everything you want to forget or wish it had never happened, like your first day in school where u bit a girl’s cheek because of how red it was. I swear they looked like apples; they didn’t taste like apples though. That place where to be honest doesn’t help at all, it does not stop those thoughts about the person whose arms made you feel loved, whose mouth kissed you good night whose... STOP! This is just not helping.

I can’t continue doing this. It is too painful.



After a few minutes of fighting myself, I decided to wake up and have some breakfast. At the kitchen table not being able to eat that horrible cereal anymore, I stopped for a second and I could picture him serving supper, he didn’t want anyone else to cook that night. It was his "I’ll pretend to be a chef" night. Everyone was laughing and smiles were everywhere I could sense the yellow walls smiling like four giants staring at their children, with maternal glare, those walls that forever despondent will stand now. I can now look back at these bits of time and everything seems so surreal, my mind can’t afford itself to believe we ever had a good time with him, but we did.



Days go by and everything is back to normal, when I just happen to forget those gloomy mornings were everything seems to fall apart, and it is not that hard to continue with my boring life something has to happen. Every time I think I’ll be ok and everything stays where it is meant to be in my head. Something has to remind me of him, is like that horrible nightmare you are never able to forget and that you know it will haunt you all your life. One afternoon looking for something, I can’t really remember what; in some old boxes at the back of the house I found this necklace someone gave me for one of my birthdays. That someone is him if you need to know… I feel warm tears rolling down my cheeks. I really don’t know why these things affect me that much. Maybe the fact that he was my father is involved in this. It was that evening that I found myself going over in my mind again events from the last time I saw him. I walked into the kitchen and asked him why he had taken out the suitcases, as I saw him seated at our old and wasted table, he offered me a cup of coffee "I hate coffee" I said for the eleventh million time, all his life living with me and I still can’t believe he never remembered I hate coffee, maybe that is proof of how much he cared about us. When he told me we needed to talk, I knew something was not right from the tone of his voice. Suddenly, I understood why the suitcases were outside, just waiting for him to once again take them somewhere far away from me, somewhere I could not bother him anymore or be part of his life.



I never wanted to do this. I never wanted to be part of the statistics that say kids are affected by divorce, but part of me could not stop but blame him for everything or even worse blame myself. I can’t say now my life has been awful because of him leaving, for the reason that I would be lying I still laugh and cry the same way I did before he left, but some days like that cloudy morning I can’t stop myself from feeling there is something that is not how it’s meant to be. I guess it´s normal, but I do really miss him sometimes, and all I’ve got from him are memories but isn’t that what everything becomes in life...? Memories.



Losing my dad was one of the hardest things I have been through, but the most difficult part for me to understand is: knowing that he had an option, that he did not have to leave. Why did he do it? Why did he not want me anymore? Is he happier without me? These are questions that will stay unanswered, and all I can do is make all these stories in my mind, telling myself he one day might come back. He could at least have called for my birthdays or send a postcard, but no it seems as if he forgot about my existence.



Someone really important in my life once told me, we have to learn to forgive and ask for forgiveness. Maybe that is the reason why I’m writing this, to tell him I’m sorry for hating him, to say I’m sorry for blaming him, and I know deep inside my heart I forgave him already for leaving me alone. Not all of it is bad; don’t get me wrong, he taught me one of the greatest lessons in life to love the people who care about you no matter what, to keep those people who prepare you chocolate, because they know you don’t like coffee, close. At the end of the day all I’ve got is the dignity to say I loved him even when it was right for me to hate him, I never gave up on him even when it is so hard to fight for those things that you might never get back, but something I know for sure I’ll wait all my life if needed to see those suitcases back where they belong.



Andrea

Arrepentimiento..

 "En griego, generalmente significan ‘cambiar de pensamiento’ y también ‘lamento’ o ‘sentir remordimiento’."

Es una definición que encontré en google...  y la verdad cambiamos de pensamiento a cada rato, yo en lo personal lo hago mucho...



¿Acaso estoy destinada a vivir una vida de arrepentimiento...?

No lo se…

La verdad en estos momentos es cuando me alegra que nadie lea lo que escribo   … Por supuesto que la historia vendra fantasiosa y llena de pensamientos dramáticos…. Pero esa soy yo que se puede hacer.. Al menos… estoy contando la historia….

“…Y ahí estaba una vez mas sentada en el sillón donde estuvo sentada miles de veces antes… Vestida de verde… el mismo verde que había usado miles de veces antes….

Pero esta vez había algo distinto esta vez sintió algo q no había sentido ni una ni mil veces antes… Eso que sentía tenia nombre... .

Era tan extraño y tan distinto a sus ojos que no lo pudo evitar… hablaron toda la noche, su corazón se detuvo cuando dijo su nombre….

Tarde ya esa noche cuando ella pensó que todo estaría bien… Llego la oscuridad pero no la hermosa oscuridad de la noche…. La oscuridad que se encuentra en el corazón de las demás personas. Ese tipo de oscuridad en donde la envidia, el rencor y todos esos sentimientos siniestros fueron engendrados… y se lo llevo…

Con el corazón echo pedazo espero talvez el iba regresar….”

…y no, no regreso si es lo que quieren saber pero en lo personal no le he puesto final a esa historia … Hopes dies last o no?

Love 

A.. 

Vamos a hablar ahora d lo dsafortunada q soy
hahaha.. no talvez no.. Soy muy afortunada :)
Al menos lo disfrute.. :)

Esta es mi historia del fin de semana..
en un fin de semana..

lo vi
lo desee
lo bese
le pose
lo olvide..

Esa es la historia ...
♥

Es uno de esos lunes donde desearia que
todo fuera diferente.. En el sentido que no deseo olvidarlo..


Quisiera que fuera mas facil..
Si fuera mas facil no seria tan divertidoo.. :)


:)

A pesar de todo me hizo el findesemana....

Con amor
A