#id write a soliloquy in ny sleep if it would mean she would change

[wordsarefakeokay]

The universe told me to stop and reflect. The universe told me "don't escape the safe place you've built, learn to see it as home again. Reinforce the barricades and the borders, define your home, name your boundaries. Define what is safe for you and cut what is not. Be okay with your decision and while you do that learn to walk again"

My hands are my voice. I'm finding my peace in the writing. These thumbs have written more essays and fairy tales than on this here heaven and earth Horatio....or at least at a computer. There's no end to the strength and dexterity of my thumbs on my phone. Instead of telling trolls on that inconsequential app Twitter off I spend my time playing with words like preschool blocks and building castles out of cardboard. I am a kid again putting the voice to the thoughts I was too scared to express, to scared to share. I was blinded by the idea of happily ever after and that once the girl gets her prince or resolves her issues, that's supposed to be the end of the story. Aren't you happy now you have a man? Aren't you happy now you had one meaningful conversation with your mom, isn't it all water under the bridge by now?

Now I can say no one breakthrough is not a solution. It's an epiphany and how you respond afterwards is your truth. Will you wake up and try better, wake up and try at all, or will you think that the epiphany is enough and that therapy is a quick fix solution. Will you try at all or stay the same. Will you be there or will you be present, aware, active, engaging. Will you just sit in the room and think that's enough or will you try. Your response tells us everything.

So I sit here in my princess and the pea bed of mattresses and it's soft and home and clean and safe. I still watch fairy tales but now I look at all the characters and think about who's storyline has helped me grow the most in that hour and a half. Who's growth is going to help me with my own and now I find that it changes day to day. I am the hero of my own story and sometimes that means I'm the side character for someone else because my relationship with them matters to me, they matter to me but also by listening to my dear ones woes I can reflect on my own. The advice I give them also helps me. And I practice this when I'm watching a movie. It's not just observing cinematic experience in a moment, it's learning how the story unfolds based on how the director sees it and understanding the use and importance of dialogue. Only the best shows make it hard to choose which storyline applies that day because everyone and everything about the story is working in perfect harmony. And everytime I am different, unique, feeling a singular train of thought that day and the movie, the story takes me somewhere else. They still come with a sick beat and melody to match so some things stay the same. It is me who is different and wiser now. And that is okay. That is called growth.

So that is why it must be that the universe said "nah honey take a chill pill" and zapped me with the fortune of a few broken foot bones and some joint fractures for measure. When they bury me in the ground my right foot will look different from my left. Those bones don't look the way they do when I started this trainwreck rollercoaster called life. So I stay comfy and I wait and I wait. I manage pain and I wait and I wait. I see my doctor take the medication eat food and I eat the right food and I wait. And wait. And wait until my doctor says otherwise. I'm healing, and mending skeletal framework and rewiring my muscles. And everytime I get a little closer to having a normal life again I go right back to bed before waking up to try again. Can't you see that I'm trying?

So you're not welcome here. Your presence isn't safe. You aren't a safe space for me anymore and looking back on it I don't really think you were. I don't know how you clearly must be for other people. You are a volcano ready to erupt at a kids science fair at the earliest sign of Pepsi on Mentos. You are a fire hydrant who's lug nut did not get properly tightened on it's last task. You are a hallowed antique store that is precious to your small community that I'm terrified to enter because I'm not worthy. Because the person behind the counter is analyzing my every move my every breath and tallying every close call or smudged foot print I leave. They're preparing to sanitize every surface, polish every piece, freaking sage your safe zone from the enemy that apparently was me all along. I was walking on eggshells in your safe space, even when you opened it up to me. I was holding my breath Incase I breathed funny and triggered something in you. I was recounting verbal chess moves to see where everything went wrong. And at the end of the day I learned

We are not good for each other. We are not safe for each other. Your china shop is at your exact specifications and new elements are not welcome in your life. And that's your problem because you missed out on knowing me. You missed out on really knowing me. You saw what you could gather in a year and you told me I wasn't good enough. You told me the four deadly words to anyone's soul: you're not good enough. You asked me to change and never wondered what I needed from you if we were gonna stay in each other's lives. Stay as family. Be a family. Family makes room in the shops for you to visit. I wanted to look at your antiques and doodads and any memory you ever wanted to share that was neat or painful or funny or raw. Any memory that told me about you. Your antique shop was in black and white while I was there and all I wanted to do was know what colors went where. I wanted to know who you were in all the funny or scary or weird or nice microcosms about you. What makes you a person and can I be good in your life like I thought you would be in mine.

I guess we answered that question the day I broke my foot. It was the day you tried to fix things. It was the day you broke my heart. The kind of break you've been through before but you thought was behind you. The hurt that reminds you of your mom, the mom who's better over there out of my own book store.

And the worst part is that I know if I told you this you'd tell me that the antique china shop I described is actually a mom and pop OG game stop before game stop became popular. Itd be the hit place with the kids in the district or the kids in the group home or the kids in the after school DARE program rode their bikes and scooters and skateboards to while laughing at lessons and thinking about drugs and how the things "you're too young to mess with" are actually something you can get at the guy from the 711 on the way to the mom and pop store. You'd tell me that the antiques found in here we're the treasures of your youth, that the retro pieces of my time were the norm in yours. That every day nostalgia for you was an era away that I can appreciate like a fine wine. We are different and I was trying to understand what was in your store. I was trying to understand why this mom and pop shop stayed at this block with this community and supported this family and these kids. Why is this a safe place for others and not a safe space for me. I was trying to understand. Do you hear that? I was trying. to. understand. And you let me explore for a little bit I think I sneezed or laughed with you about something or maybe it was a comment or my body language or my attitude but I also could have just breathed wrong and you put up hazards saying "this place isn't safe with my little sister anymore" with everyone in your life on alert to figure out how to keep a sniper rifle trained on me. And from that first offense, every little mistake I made got worse, there was no end to punishments or tough fam conversations. I left a job because of that kind of treatment why are you surprised I blocked you? Why did you make your hurt my problem at the end of everything when I told you it was over and that I was done. Why are you like this? I hope you answer that question later for yourself one day so I'll say it again for spiciness. Why. are. you. like. this? Why can't you change?

The worst part about it is I know how you'll respond to all this and it goes a little something like this: you'd respond in a way that would make it about you just so you could have the last say and end this on a note where your hurt is my problem (again) and you would end it in a way that would prompt me to respond. You talk to hurt and be right so you can sleep at night and I talk to heal and grow. We're different. And when things go bad, things are worse before the bull breaks the retro shop.

The bull was you all along. Please know that before we talk again.