Will I ever make it home....: "Ama"

Will I ever make it home....

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

"Ama"

That's what I called you. But no more.

How come I try to purge you and your memories, but I can't? You're like a bad sequel to a horror movie. I can't kill you off! You keep coming back. And back. And back.

I want to forget you. I want to not be like you. But each day that we grow further apart, and I further disrespect you, I turn into you more and more.

This scares me. I see your reflection in the mirror. I hear your voice when I speak. I try to be different from you. But I laugh like you. I smile like you. I cry like you, with my fists on my face, hot tears streaming from my eyes In the dark, alone in the bathroom so no one will hear. I speak like you. It's as though your vocal cords where in place of mine. Your cold empty eyes stare back at me, when I look into the mirror. I try to turn away. I paint my face to disguise our likeness. But I end up looking like you. I dyed my hair black to be distanced from you. I cut it short. I do all the things you hate that I do. I have tattoos. I don't wear dresses or heels.

I am trying so hard to be different from your unapproachable nature, that I have forgotten who I was. I still can hear you whisper in my ear. I can still remember your hugs, so unaffected and distant. Your facade of being such a wonderful person. Your lies tumbling from your mouth. Your dysfunctional way of loving. How you always said you wish I were dead.

Well, I almost am. Where are you now? I live so far away from you. And I still can't cut that spiritual umbillical cord that binds us. I can't seperate our souls. I owe you nothing, and yet you still becon me. Constantly. You haunt my dreams. Your face dances in the sea of unrecognizable places.

"Ama, te quiero. Voy a tratar de ser mejor."

Why did I always try so hard to make you see that I was worthy of your love?

"Mis ojos."

I never was. Never will be. I am not like you. But I am you. I remember your hard fist on my face. Your hot slaps on my cheek, if I so much as sighed wrong. The glass crashing on my head. The broom stick hitting my back. I never could look you in the eyes. I feared you. Yet, I always wanted to be like you. I watched you. Emulated your every sway and breath. And now, I am trying to forget all those ghostly things. I try to act as though you are dead. I am orphaned.

I remember your perfumes. Your make-up. Your soaps and lotions. And your marvelous clothes. Your 500 pairs of shoes. Your jewelry. I guess I am like you in some ways. But in others I will never be the daughter you wanted. I was too wild, too timid. Too quiet. Too talentless for you. You craved more. And I had nothing to satisfy your hunger for it. I will always be a disappointment to you.

"I'm proud of you!"

No, you're not. You never were. You say these things like you want to mean them. But you never do. I see the disappointment lingering in your eyes. I can still see it from 1600 miles away. I hear your voice dripping in it when you call.

I have to purge you.

I do. It aches me. I see myself being cold with him. I don't want to be the cadaverous person you were. I will never get a second chance, and neither will you.

Thank you.

For making me realize how much I missed out on.
For making me vulnerable to unsuitable relationships.
For making me runaway to where I am.
For making me try to be a better ama than you were.
For making me see what it is to be a child through my own child's eyes.

I am not a mistake. I am not too wild. I am none of those things that you chided me for. I will never slap my child on his cheek for sighing at me. I will never break a glass on his head. I will never beat him with a broom stick. Or tell him that he was a mistake. That I wished I had an abortion instead of having to deal with him. Maybe that is why I may be a pushover. I don't want to be the forceful mess you were.

Since I was never good enough for you, maybe someone else will come along to help me get there.

I want to be good enough.

Good enough for Gabe.

posted by The Devil @ 9:31 AM

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