Sticky Pieces - Epistolary Novel

Chapter 1: Clingy Nightmare

If love can not be measured, how do you know you are full of love? My thoughts went back to what I had quickly jotted down.

There was comfort in my personal journal and at some point it slipped carelessly out of my hands. So waking upright in a battered kitchen chair had me on high alert. But inner peace was quickly found knowing my journal was the ultimate note taker. It nestled upright against my feet and I hardly reached to pick it up.

Out of fondness I reread everything.

𝙸'𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚜. 𝙻𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜... 𝙸 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚢. 𝙼𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚝𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎. 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚜.

𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝? 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚗𝚘𝚝. 𝙻𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝. 𝚂𝚘 𝙸 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝. 𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝙸 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚍𝚍𝚜...

𝙰𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙸'𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍. 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝, 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝. 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜. 𝙼𝚢 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚙𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎. 𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜.

With that, I was back where I started - which was rock bottom considering I had to look up from the bottom of a hill and did I mention I was at a dead end too?

Roughness was left, I thought.

At least rock bottom allows you to move back and forth. I couldn't. I stared at my unmoving mom in a broken bed. The weight of everything was sinking in.

Where's my dad when you need him? I thought about how suddenly he was stripped away.

Clutter around the bed seemed intensified and my poor mom couldn't testify where my dad ended up. My sister did her own thing as always. Usually with others. Especially if our dad wasn't there to stop her.