There is something not normal about today or perhaps it is only me who feels that way.

As my eyes fluttered open from the sunlight that flew through the closed blinds of my window, I heard pain clawing on the glass as I questioned whether I should rest my eyes. Sleep was always a pain reliever that did not require self-mutilation. I constantly relied on my daily slumber because the moment I wake up, I will simply be satisfied. No longer does the pain remain within me as I smile, wanting to continue the rest of the day and end it as happily as I can.

Sleep did not come for me when I finally allowed myself to close my eyes as I grumbled, frustrated. I peeked eagerly at the clock, hoping that it would read at least ten o’clock in the morning, but it did not. Instead, I have read nine o’clock as I realized that I am beginning to lose sleep. Ever since I had reached the humble age of eighteen where I am starting my journey of adulthood, I began to see a decrease in hours when it comes to my dream-filled nights and contemplating the reason causes me great irritation. Perhaps it is just a phase. . .

The pain I heard from outside continued to rise as I realized that it was merely a dog howling as if it had no care in the world. I thought nothing of it. Dogs will always seize their whining and complaints because they are selfless creatures like that. That is why I admire dogs and wish to embrace each and every one of them, however I know that it is quite impossible like how it is impossible to save all the dying people of the world. As I went along with my business, the howls continued and I attempted to block it out with the loud music that would play within my earphones.

It didn’t work.

My heart ached hearing such undecipherable words as I wished to reach out to this creature and ask what was wrong, why did it sound like it was so lonely? Why did it sound like me when I was in high school, alone and frightened after I have went through another day of physical and verbal abuse? My skin began to crawl from those repressed memories that suddenly resurfaced all at once. The anger and the poisonous venom my mother seeped through my heart caused me great terror and agony. I wanted nothing to do with that woman and every time I set my gaze upon her, I knew that there will be nothing good that will come out of her—nothing good that will come out of this broken relationship.

There were plenty of things that she had done to me. There were plenty of things are I can remember when I am alone in a dark room, however there are a few notes that I took when I underwent her treatment. When I had brought her average grades on my report card, she had thrown books at my body as I curled up in a ball, hoping that she would stop throwing objects at me. I remember a shoe being thrown, but what I remember vividly was the baseball bat that she held in her tight fists. Her eyes were mad with anger, mad with complete thoughts of murder. She raised the weapon and showed me her monstrous form. I was afraid, so very afraid, but in the end, she just threw it aside, said her final, vulgar words and left.

I have a sibling that has quite a head upon his shoulders. Being proud of him was something we all were because he brought us joy and happiness, however I cannot possibly say that what he had brought overpowered the bad times I had to undergo because I could not satisfy my very own mother. I noticed right away that he was able to get away with things that I could not. Although I was older than him by four years, he seemed to have much more privilege that I do, but I did not care. I selflessly told myself that it was better him than me. One day, it was supposed to be peaceful. It was supposed to be just like any other day, but it seemed that she was easily angered by my words that should have meant absolutely nothing at all. To run away for a brief moment, I took a walk without her consent as I settled myself on the swing set, hoping that the tree standing overhead would fall upon me and bury me dead.

That obviously never happened.

What happened was my mother driving to the park, throwing my bag of belongings on the concrete sidewalk as she yelled obscenities towards my direction. I was a believer of God. I was thanking God that no one was around to witness my shame and embarrassment. I immediately went to my bag as she suddenly told me to get in the car. I did what I was told in hopes that her anger will die out like water on fire, but of course God enjoyed the show that was unfolding before his eyes. Arriving home, she told me to stay out and that I was no longer of this residence. I was alone with my bag filled with useless clothes as I found myself seated on the porch with absolutely nothing to do. I told myself to not cry for this selfish woman. I told myself that I am stronger than this, but the tears streamed down my face as I urge my body to automatically shut down and just fall asleep.

The tears streamed and the pain collected the crumbling debris of my body while I was conscious.

I—

“Please, stop . . .” The noise continues. “Please, stop the noise . . .” The noise that is filled with the memories that should have been buried six feet under or more.

The noise ruined everything.

I wrote this on a whim, so there may be a few mistakes.