Log Of A Dead Star

17. Confession #16

This one may be short. Sorry. Now back to the confession!

I was in the kitchen, just making ramen for lunch and trying to survive the migrane I've had since last night. My step dad was in the laundry room, which was right next to me. He kept messing with me and annoying me, like him and mom do all the time. I told that I was still salty about not being able to go to the walkway of lights the night before to see the jazz bands perform and how mom never let me out of the house. I can't remember what he said after that, but it lead to me jokingly saying that I have no friends and not jokingly saying that I'm anti social. He replied "Yeah I noticed that about 3 years ago."

"Only 3? You've lived with me for at least 5. How did you just notice?"

"Well since we've moved here. Back where we used to live, you were a social butterfly. You would always want to go on walks and ride your bike and go hang out with Litzy and Cameron. Now you don't. It's probably because you didn't have internet back then."

"I had internet. Do you not remember the iPad thing? And that was before when I had friends. Before they started... Being mean to me." I didn't want to go on. I knew he didn't know where I went to when I asked to go on a walk or bike riding after the whole Abrielle incident. He didn't know that I only went to escape from the house and everyone else and my thoughts. He didn't know the full story of what happened. He didn't know that he could've helped me through that whole thing.

That one day that I came crying off the bus, he was there in the driveway. He saw the tears, he felt my hug, he knew my sadness. He asked what had happened. I told him everything that had happened that day. He listened of course, but all he said was that words don't hurt and to just ignore them. Well I tried but I couldn't. He gave me the influence that no one else would listen to me. That no one else would be able to help me. That everyone else would just tell me the same thing, to just ignore it. He didn't realize that those words dug deeper into my skin and burned into my head and the pain just got worse everyday. He didn't know how much suffering I went through. He didn't know that all that time, I wanted so badly just to disappear.

He still doesn't understand. Even if I sat down and told him what happened, he would just push it off. He's a fighter after all, he's killed with his fist. Words don't hurt at all right?

That's where he is wrong. So very wrong. Because to this day those words are still stuck in my head, those images of being alone are still burned into memory, those days and nights of pain and crying and wanting to die still haunt me. That's what words did to me.

Now care to take another look at how sticks and stones break my bones, but words will never hurt me? Because that is the most untrue statement of all that I've heard come out of his mouth. Because words have always hurt me more than sticks or stones.