Hiding Places.

There are certain places I don’t frequent. People I really don’t interact with and very many words I’d like to say and do, though not in their faces. Sometimes I tell my mirror and I’m afraid she is going to crack if I continue yelling at her like that. I call her Daisy. Daisy has seen me at my absolute worst. Like that day I invited Amos over and we played with candle wax. It was a thrill. For him. Me, I hated him. Hated that he’d seen and defiled my temple. Cried in front of Daisy scrubbing the scent of burnt sausage off of me. He likes them burnt and well, he was shoving his own into my ass and I called all my ancestors pretending to like it. That day I beat up Daisy. A bit too hard. She cracked, halfway, right at the bizarre angle to show my weeping face and the other half donned in lingerie.

These places I don’t go. Full of fake compassion and evil faces sealed in smiling faces. These places like my mother’s church. Where I first fell and the the pastor shouted, “Devil!” to the glee of the women guild who carried me forward. Dee would later tell me that my eyes turned really white as if the real devil was inside me. My mother was howling, chanting after the pastor who was shaking me like a crazed person. It didn’t help that I was shaking on my own and had peed on my Sunday skirt. Dee had to hold my legs down lest they saw everything women are told to hide. After much chanting, everything slowed, it was quiet. And I was pronounced mad. In one of these places I vowed never to frequent.

Men became my hiding place. When I forgot to pop my pills for my kuku brain. When I’d call my mother and she’d say in her prayer voice that she hopes my madness has entered the proverbial pigs. I knew the signs. Dee helped me look it up on WebMd. It sounded like I had the mad cow disease but atleast the white pills would help. Sometimes I skipped them because they dulled me. With them I couldn’t go dancing with Dee. The too bright lights and loud voices would send me over the edge. The darkness would come. Envelope me and my eyes would cease their seeing for some few minutes. I hated losing time like this. These few moments of not knowing my body. Not being in control.

Until I discovered them. And me. Became comfortable in the enveloping darkness. If I had a man in me, I wouldn’t get lost. If I could merge the darkness and fake pleasure, I would be fine. And I had Daisy to cry to and bleed my fists while at it. Fine. Right?


3 thoughts on “Hiding Places.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.