For some reason my 'a' button does not want to work properly. Its that time again, BIRTHDAY. It amazes me how fast time can disappear. At 26, I can say with a very happy heart, still no wedding/marriage, no baby, no anything that would constantly annoy, disappoint, or hurt me. Take a look around and you see siblings, married or not, with kids! We always said we wouldn't do what they did. The abandonment, and neglect. The people we have in our lives deserve better. Yet here you are, giving your own child away cause you don't want it. What the hell is wrong with you?! Getting pregnant by a high school friend so you'll never be alone, and then destroying what was a wonderful friendship. Now that child is left with a broken home and heart all because of you. She'll grow up constantly thinking, questioning the love/hate relationship her parents have. Why did they do that to their own kids?! Ya know, he kinda had a thought there. Question everything about your self and identity till it makes no damn sense, people look at you crazy and you can laugh it off. Of course, he was probably the most mentally damaged of us three. Mommy abandons you at ten, daddy starts neglecting you, hoe bag enters. Who wouldn't want to grow up in that story?! Come on!
So, in 26 years, I've managed to survive (ironically), in Hawaii get a permanent finger bump from some crazy door (or brother, who really knows now?). I've managed two surgeries, one an organ removal. I have a metal rod in my foot. I've lost all four wisdom teeth to Batman and Robin. That is still my favorite, funniest wake up in the hospital. I've suffered one seizure, seen pink elephants and spoken to a frog. Medical mysteries aside, i still think I'm in a different dead dimension.
I also think if this were real, the pain would not be killing my feet. I mean, Tylenol aside, I drink to cover the pain. But some days, I want to chop them off! At least I can forget.
Of course, I think forgetting might be something to turn around. I need the memory of growing up. I desperately want it. Not knowing what happened outside the horrible or heart breaking moments tears me up inside. I remember things, but they're rarely happy moments. I don't give a damn about the baptism anymore but that memory wont leave. I want to forget about Richard getting thrown into the entertainment center, but that wont leave. Or Bobby nearly dying after, as a young kid, knocking the emergency break out, and rolling back into the street. These are the ones I don't need anymore, but I cant remember any happy ones. I don't have memories of birthday parties growing up. The one birthday gift I do remember the most is from Grandma Liz, racist bitch. Newspaper clippings, like OMG, my only wish!
How do you spell Oy vey! That's the way it comes out in my brain. Wow! Its a good day to be Emily. Every year, like I do, I take a look at my birth certificate. And like always, once again I realize I misspell my name everyday. Every single day. How sad. But to change everything to the proper spelling, the one on my birth certificate, would take hours. Why did I ask them to spell it for me that first time. I should have just asked to see the damn certificate. That would have avoided all this debacle.
I can say with a sure heart, they will never win the Best Parent of the Year award. They certainly dont deserve it!
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