Pania Monologue Recovery

Thank you for letting my go, for finally ending the pain you knew I had always felt when it came to loving you. I hope you were aware of how difficult it was for me to give you the type of love you so heavily demanded. I was only destroying myself, tearing my soul apart, piece by piece, just to put a smile on your face. Thank you for finally realizing that you have to work on yourself first. I am not and never was capable of doing that for you—no one else is. It was about time you'd decided to end the nights spent crying and the days spent fighting.

“For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection on her glowing face; her voice compelled me forward breathlessly as I listened - then the glow faded, each light deserting her with lingering regret, like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk.”

“Well I would say goodnight, but I don’t like you.” I pulled out and she sat back down, with tears streaming down her face. I drove through little communities listening to the radio and eating the food I saved. I arrived in Reno, Nevada at 7:00 a.m. My bloodshot eyes told me I needed to rest, even for a few hours, but I’m going to see my daughter. I was low on gas, but I decided to take the risk of going up the mountain on the way to Tahoe. The tree’s became a blur as I pushed the pedal. The warm summer light beaming onto the road before me. The pine trees smell blessed my nose.

But somehow I ended up at my front door, red as can be. Twisting the slippery knob to let me in. The door swings open, but emptiness fills my heart. I’m broken on the inside, but nothing helps. Alcohol just makes me want you more, pictures of you a constant memory of you.

I have no reason to write this other than to unburden my conscience using the deep, personal investment that comes with the handwritten word. Once committed, the words take on a strange sort of permanence in this age of limitless data. They become more real, more honest than if I had ever found the courage to tell you face to face.

Someone leans over my shoulder to get a better view. I should move, but I stay where I am. I can hear the waves, smell the salt laden air, and I’m alone with her, floating in the dark and silence. Her hands slip out of mine and she leaves me, as she always does. Six months were not enough, Ellie. Six years, six decades, will not be enough.

Five weeks without talking to you, five weeks without your touch, your voice, your eyes staring into mine, and that cocky smirk that you always wore on your face that I always fought the urge to wipe off.

y Boyfriend’s Slap I taste stale coins and wet words; my lip cracks like blistering sidewalks midsummer. There’s a country song buzzing worlds away, low static radio bleeding love songs while my love song grips my hair by the roots, keeps me spitting static pink blood into an industrial sink, sings Baby, won’t you be my summer night? the slick slide of his tongue hot in my ear, strong fingers dug in tight like five hungry hyenas. His hand trails down and down the knobs of my spine, buried under bruising flesh; with the stars above us he croons, yellow light above the stove flickering erratically, mosquitoes panicking as the glow grows warmer, the lightbulb straining like my wick is shrinking; inevitability is a quiet thief.

I looked at you in the eye, at my sisters sixth birthday, you looked at me back with a confused face, your eyes grew old, sad and frustrated. You wanted to remember but your brain wouldn’t let you. I wish I could've gotten to know you, hug you, and tell you I loved you before you forgot.

You broke down and I finally realized how terrible of a person I was. I knew I was wrong, but I continued my negative habits. I turned your words into a valuable excuse to why I shouldn’t trust you. I turned your valid temporary temper into your hate for me. It added to my vast list of reasons why you would leave me. I quickly was able to persuade myself to carry on with my unhealthy behaviors. Except a stronger sense of fear unleashed from within me. I became so terrified of you leaving me that fear was what pushed me to look at my wrong doings and

However, tonight was slightly different there was a feeling of emptiness within me that only jasper could fill, but he was know where to be seen. As I walked towards the smooth grey eucalyptus that presided over the small dam on the far side, I peered into the broad hallow space at its base where I knew Jasper stayed. But there was no sign of jasper or even the slightest amount of evidence that he had been here. I felt my body shatter for what felt like the millionth time tonight as the tears started to fall down my cheeks, I didn’t know how much more I could take before I simply couldn’t handle this anymore. As I sat slumped along the water’s edge with my head on my knees, I felt betrayed and heartbroken. Jasper Jones was really gone, he had left me and gone to the city by himself, a plan that we were meant to do together. I was distressed, filled with anger and heartbreak. He had broken his promise. But the truth is what hurt me the most, I thought he loved me, I thought what we had was real, but I was wrong. Tonight was going to be the night I tell him everything, the night I was going to beg him to leave with me. Because I was in trouble. I couldn’t do this alone. I needed him more than ever but he wasn’t there. As these thoughts kept running through my head I begin to write it down. One way or another

My eyes are wide open now , I see how I was used and treated . I can't describe all your lies , I feel all the pain and beatings I won't miss you anymore. It's time to move on without goodbyes and ignore all the bad memories . This use to be a second home to me , but now its just pitched black , I wonder if anybody will miss me or even know I'm gone , I'll stay far away till I'm ready to come back . All the times it was your way , the reason I left and didn't want to stay . I feel free and more independent , myself is real and no longer fake . Being there all those years was a big mistake . When its time to knock at the door , will you let me back in or push me down to the floor. You were my home away from home , I've thought all of the shit

And I was there, too, hoping to find you and say to you, Come back, come back, there's only one street, one door, we didn't mean it, we didn't know, whatever was wrong will be different. Several times I decided you were dead, even wished you were dead, but then another postcard would come, with another message to ponder. And I've always read them, even when my husband said not to, even if they've driven me to tears or rage or a blankness when I've no longer cared if you were dead or anyone were dead, including myself. I've been faithful, too, you see. I've always looked up where you were in the atlas, and put your postcards in the box. Sixtythree postcards, four hundred—odd lines of scrawl: our life together. Why are you standing there like that? my daughter asks me. I must have been away somewhere, I say. But I'm back. Yes. You see, Mother, I always come back. That's the distance that separates us. But on summer evenings, when the windows are open to the dusk, I sometimes smell cities … wheat fields … oceans—strange smells from far away—all the places you've been to that I never will. I smell them as if they weren't pictures on a postcard, but real, as close as my outstretched hand. And sometimes in the middle of the night, I'll sit bolt upright, my husband instantly awake and frightened, asking, What is it? What is it?

My day begins again with a drone of the same ringtone of the alarm. Getting up to open the window forgetting about the same old raven bird that stares at me with its whole black eyes sending you into a black spiral. The sense of nostalgia hits, rain leaves its own scent like the scent of an ex-lover’s. After all eternity doesn’t wait for the past to catch up, you just keep on going with your life as I have. Making my way to the kitchen I avoid all the papers on the floor scattered like a tornado threw up and shredded its life. My hands twitches to grab the phone eager to check for the ghost messages and calls. Putting down my arm as soons as it raises “don’t do it”. I turn in circles to find someone but in its leave was nothing. “ I know” I whispered to no one. The hallway was filled with darkness except for one room whose light was slowly dimming. Darting past the shadowed hands reaching for me I went into the room. Searching for that dark grey raincoat that was hung up on a hanger in the half empty closet.