Thursday, March 11, 2010

You






(If you are in a place where you can listen to my playlist,
 you will here the song that corresponds with the following lyrics)

YOU


You
It's for you
Only you
It's for you

I'll never know
I'll never care
I'll never believe my people
I'll tell you what I say
I'll never lie
I'll never try
I'll never cry for you people
I'll push you
Push you away
As you lonely people
Keep on running around my door
Yes, you lonely people
Keep on begging
Beg for more
And I'll cry for you
Yes I'll die for you
Pain in my heart it is real
And I'll tell you now how I feel inside
Feel in my heart it's for you

It's for you
Only you
It's for you


I'll never try
I'll never die
I'll never push for you people
I'll tell you how I feel
I'll never lie
I'll never cry
I'll never try for you people
I'll tell you, yes it's real
And you lonely people
Keep on passing time away
Yes you lonely people keep on passing,
Pass away

And I'll cry for you
Yes, I'll die for you
Pain in my heart it is real
And I'll tell you now how I feel inside
Feel in my heart it's for you
And I'll take everything
As it comes my way
Pushin' your pain 'round my door
And I'll cry for you yes I'll die for you
Is this blood on my hands all for you?

You shiver
And shudder
Recovers your mother
You feel it take control
All alone
Feel alive
In your soul

Come around town
Steal another dime
Take another line
Won't you feel it
Blanket your soul
Out of mind

Come around town
Steal another dime
Do another crime
Won't you get it higher & higher
All through time

Come around town
Steal another dime
Don't you push your drugs in my face
Yes, I'm feeling
Feeling fine
Don't you push your drugs in my face
Or I'm gonna put you in your place
Fuck you
I don't want it no more
And it's mine
Said this pain in my heart is all mine
Yes, it's mine all alone

I don't want it no more
I don't want it no more
I don't want it no more
I don't want it no more

And it's mine on my own
Yes, it's mine all alone
As I cry for you
Yes, I'll die for you
Pain in my heart, it is real
And I'll take
Everything as it comes my way
Feel in my heart it's for you
And I'll lie for you as I die for you
Pain in my heart it is real
And I'll tell you now
How I feel inside
Fuck you
It's for you 

-Candlebox


What irony I feel when I listen to this song now. I used to sit in front of my full length mirror that was propped against my daybed, putting on my makeup in the dreadful early morning hours, getting ready for summer school, and listening to this song on repeat.  It brought me continuous tears, and I would stare at myself crying, my freshly applied foundation streaking down my face, and tell myself to just shut off the song and quit feeling so upset. I would smudge the foundation and tears together into an acceptable mess. The tears would stop long enough for me to to apply my eyeliner, and then the words would again sink in, and the eyeliner would make a streamlined decent through the botched foundation job.

It was the summer between freshman and sophomore year in high school. I was pregnant. I had miserably failed the last year because of my complicated relationship and pregnancy. It was hot and miserable in August.  I was almost halfway through my pregnancy. The ultrasound tech said she was likely a she. Even though the pregnancy was intentional and desired by both of our lonely hearts, the guy also had other lonely intentions. 


The blissful delusions of my new happy family to be, were disappearing into his incessant clouds of marijuana smoke and lies, which I had no tolerance of after my past, and  at my tender motherly age of 13. This song confirmed both my love, his sickness, his selfishness, and my shattered dreams. It also reflected the lost path of my addicted mother. Melodious pain shared, pure and concise. 

The tears overwhelmed the smeared, tormented surfaces of my young face, poorly disguised by unneeded make up, that I truly believed concealed my insecurities, and dripped down onto my white maternity shirt.

I only had two. A white one and a blue one. The same shirt, different color. My pregnancy was not accepted. My cheating, 16 year old boyfriend made $6.10 an hour, and was slowly buying the bare necessities for our soon to be facade apartment, and life. Garage sales fulfilled a young soon-to-be mother's dream nursery. Car payments, insurance, and feeding us both, consumed the rest of the money quickly. Oh, as did the weed and cocaine. So, there was no money for maternity clothes. 

He had to be up even earlier than I did for his job. His job started at 6 am. Even though he was up at 4 am and gone by 4:30 (he worked 30 mins away and took several of his older coworkers that had lost their licences to work), his marijuana smell lingered when my 6:00 am alarm went off.


It didn't matter how sure I was, his lying, comforting words always convinced me to pretend to believe. Marijuana was a companion to cocaine. Unexplained dirty baggies of green or white residue happened along, as did unrecognized panties. There was always a great story, followed by a proclamation of his undying faith to me, his unequivocal love for our unborn daughter, and inappropriate sexual acts that I called "love."


The stain that began as a drop, spread into the interwoven material of my K-mart maternity shirt. I looked down and it felt like I watched my pain spread before my eyes, staining the canvas of my daughter's pre-existence. I chose to wear my stained maternity shirt anyway. What other person was really going to care what a 13 year old pregnant girl was wearing? So why was I doing my make-up again? 


I remember that we were reading, Follow the River, and how much I loved the escape into the travels of Mary Ingles, and specifically the birthing of a child by an Indian woman, along the side of the river, without pain relief, squatting over dirt, delaying the travels of the Indian tribe that had kidnapped Mary.


 I wasn't sure which reality was better.

Who knew that the pain of my lonely pregnancy, in the heat of summer, sired by a drug addict, immature (acting as an adult), unfaithful companion, was about to take a bittersweet turn for destiny.

to be continued....






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8 comments:

  1. I'm looking forward to reading more.

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  2. I was pregnant at sixteen so can identify with alot of your post. I, too, will be back tomorrow to see what "destiny" held for you.

    ♥Namaste♥

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  3. Thanks for sharing a bit of "how it was." Looking forward to more. Have a good one!

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  4. Even though I'm not a girl, I can relate a lot to this post. Sorry I haven't been commenting for awhile. Things have been a bit hectic for me lately.

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  5. Aww, there is a certain beauty to this writing, I really like it. Tease it out a bit more, I'm looking forward to part two....

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  6. I love your writing, you are soooo gifted with words. Your story is unforgettable, all you've endured, all you've experienced. And the best part of your story is we know how it ends: with the woman you are today. (of course that story is still a work in progress but I have no doubt it will just keep getting better as you go along).

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  7. I also love your writing and am also looking forward to the continued post. Also, when I read your comments on posts, it always resonates with me and I feel comforted, so thank you for that.

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  8. I'll be waiting to read the rest of that story.

    Secretia

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