The Snowflake

Do you remember making paper snowflakes as a kid?  Like it was really just something that would occupy time when your teacher would want to enter something in the computer or just needed to escape the monotony of telling us the same things over and over again for it only to stick a day before we are signing year books and moving on to the next.  I mean I’m sure you remember how it goes you fold it hotdog style then again into a small square and you start to chip away at it.  It was a spectrum of how they turned out but on the safe end it was the kids that maybe cut it four or five times because as much as they wanted it to turn out cool they feared the failure even more to open it and have it tear or not even resemble a snowflake because of all the cuts and alterations made in route to their snowy masterpiece.  Then there were the kids who went balls to the wall because if it couldn’t be amazing it would give its everything in the attempt and when they opened it and it tore they were okay because they gave it their all and that’s really what the point was i think.  This memory, is forever tainted.  It’s defiled and disgraced and honestly it’s just sad now.  Because of you.  Because you felt that you could steal my innocence, you thought that I wanted you to destroy any chance of me having a meaningful relationship with another human being.  Maybe you’re right.  I definitely want my skin to crawl every time I get a lingering stare or a tap on the shoulder.  Not even so much in fear but in disgust because everybody is just like you.  Nobody really cares about what they want its about what you want.  It doesn’t matter how many people go to the ends of the earth to prove that they care about me.  The evidence doesn’t matter because in one fell swoop it can become all but inadmissible.  But see thats the fucked up part its not that I’m numb so of course I understand that people also relied on me to be there for them, my mother to be her daughter my sister to be her keeper.  To be the one she needs when even the smallest situation occurs.  Once upon a time i was the strongest person that I knew.  I wasn’t afraid to love I wasn’t afraid to need and I wasn’t afraid to fall because I knew that no matter what i would be better for it.  I knew all that, or i thought i did.  Thanks for creating my rational fear of the real world.  A world where people just take what they want because somewhere along the line they rationalized that it was owed to them.  Thank you for showing me that kindness is forever a weakness that no matter how someone seems they’re liars.  Just like you.

I think about When you slammed the door behind me, and you actually gave me something to be thankful for because I know that that sound, that gust of wind from the door marked the last moment I was me. When you had your hands around my wrists as if I was resisting arrest you casted your shadow into my light. And as you used the other hand to pin my waist down while you put your knee into my stomach, when you used your free hand to force my legs spread open, you stripped me of my innocence. As if it was the sticker on fruit that we just often peel away with our thumbs and never even know where it ends up because it wasn’t important to what we wanted but it’s the only thing that piece of fruit has that shows that it’s not just a number that even though there are many like it, its untouched. It’s unique, or it was. When you struggled to get my pants from around my waste you showed me what evil was, as you struggled and i fought kicking and thrashing, because as you know you had both of my wrists, it only breathed life into your sick vendetta when through the cracks of light shown through the blinds i now know why were closed i saw a smile, as if you had just been made the happiest man in the world. It was the purest form of vile to be overjoyed at the obliteration of my innocence, my happiness. When i managed to look into your eyes, which I did so to at least hold on to the part of me that wasn’t going to be afraid the part that never imagined her first time like this but also believed that it always shaped how you felt about life after no matter they circumstances I didn’t see a coward I didn’t see a evil entity I saw my mother, my sister my friends all come and fade away because who they thought they knew is a distant memory now. All of us are snowflakes. Everyone of us, and the things that happen to us in life define us, they give us or little cuts and alterations, some people like to settle with only a four or five alterations so that when they open up for someone its a safe bet they aren’t going to be scared of what they see even if there’s more left to be desired. Then there’s the ones who have all kinds of intricate cuts and rips and are all masterpieces in their own right when they choose to be opened up. Sometimes they are a little too much and sometimes people wont understand their beauty but that’s okay because their beauty is in the attempt. Then you have the ones like me. Who has been ripped and cut and torn so much that any false move or maybe even a flawless execution still leaves me ripped apart when I’m opened up but that’s my fault right? For believing in the good in people. Never again.