July 30, 2007

Many of the people whom are reading this probably are only doing so because I have asked them to read it at some point in the past. My previous posts have come from within a selfish, brainwashed soul. I had striven to appear a perfect visage of stone, and the one person who was completely selfless. In doing so I not only hurt myself in the long run, but I fear I have hurt the very people I had said for so long I was protecting. From this point forward, I will no longer be the person I was before. I can no longer deny that I am human, and that I make mistakes, and will continue to make them. But I can only learn from them, and try my very best to refrain from making them again. I have made many a realization this morning, and do not doubt that more will continue to flow. For nearly 17 years I have tried to impress my parents, and family to gain their pride, recognition, and love. I have been tested often in this life, and refuse to believe that even if there is no God, or even if there is; I simply refuse to believe that this much pain could so entirely encompass a life, and be for naught. I feel that my life is going to be taking many changes in the very near future, and it has already begun to spin. I may not be able to control what others think of me, or what others shall do, but I can control what I do, and how I choose to accept, and acknowledge what happens. November, 1989, My mother and father met, and decided to become a bit more than friends. August 1, 1990, in Stockton California. A baby girl is born, 6 pounds and some-odd ounces, after a rather difficult if complicated birth. After natural birth becomes impossible, the father reaches his hand in, wraps it around the head of the baby, and turns it around, so that the cesarean section birth could be possible. Cutting the cord that has meant life the the fetus, he officially becomes a father. Still in question is the baby's real father, but he is prepared to step in and be dad for a baby in need. With hair red enough to rival hell's flames themselves, and eyes black enough to be pits; it can be assumed the baby comes into the world as happy as any being could be, once consideration is made that it is spitting out the blood that has been it's life and "breath" for 40-odd weeks, and breathing oxygen, nitrogen, and hydrogen for the first time. The child leaves the hospital with two parents, life, and no history. A clean, and impressionable, slate. Life is rough at first for this small family, and the house is nothing more than a small chrome trailer-home attached to a truck. Once life begins to look up, many pictures will be taken of the infant-child on the seat of a Harley Davidson motorcycle, the other pride and joy of her father. Pictures will be taken of the hand-made cradle that the father so lovingly crafted for his daughter to sleep inside. A trip is to be made quite soon that will mean much change, and will pose for a difficult future for the small family of three. Maybe the mother and father know something of what is to come, and maybe it is choices they will have to make soon that matter as to the outcome. But small and innocent is a baby girl who has no control of her life, or her future. The family moves to Phoenix Arizona, where the maternal grandparents to the child reside. Life continues for the family, and the mundane becomes ritual. The parching desert heat batters down on the doors of everyone, and bears it's heavy presence into every hole it can. Dust clouds continue to roll from cactus to cactus, picking up small debris that will aid it in it's trek across a land of nothing. As the force behind the dirt devil finally dies down, a desperate bird pecks at the remains of a family picnic, hoping to find something worth choking down to feed itself. More dust clouds up as a jack-rabbit scampers about the dry land in search for dropped edibles. No Peter Cottontails or Cinderella Bluebirds can be found in the dry and unforgiving summer heat of Phoenix, only harsh truth as sharp and powerful as the spiney cacti that indulge the visual feast of snow-bird tourists. A young girl is growing up believing she is an intelligent, average little girl. She wears the pretty dresses her parents buy for her, and eats the food they drop on her plate everyday. She throws the fits of temper that should go along with every developing child, and does what her parents ask of her when it means she gets something out of it. Briarwood apartements are not the most child-friendly of places to reside, but are within the budget of the family, and there are plenty of people who swear their lives away to keep safe the wandering and curious child. The child is ushered outside by the usual tempered mother, as has become habitual for the two. Trying the door, the child finds it locked again. Turning around she takes a left on the concrete pathway, going the short way around the pool that takes center stage to the living complex. Finding the door she is looking for, the little girls knocks and asks for her best friend. The man at the door nods, and beckons for the girl to come in, and go on back to the wonderful bedroom of another happy young girl. Quick, excited words exchanged, and the duo is out the door, holding hands, and on a mission. To escape the heat and bore of another dismal day, or sun-burn trying. Skipping down the side-walk, they collapse under a well grown, and perfectly shading plum tree. Greedily they grab at the fruit as it hangs low on it's branches, calling on them to remove from it the heavy, and bothersome fruit. They bite down hard into the sweet violet ball of a feast, eyes tingling from the slight tinge of sour skin. Their day is spent enjoying each other's company, and saving the poor plum tree from it's pain of bearing juicy delicious treats.