Fu’s Poems
Dear Mother
Mother. Could I even call you that even up till now? I thought you loved our family enough to stick around. You told us it was for grandma, she was sick in bed, but you lied about that didn't you? You didn't plan to mend all the problems that we had, in this family, you didn't even care, you threw our love against the curb, left us bare. Stitch loved you dearly, Niki certainly tried, but the moment you left this family a part of me sure died. Why did you leave us? What had we done, to be worthy of such heartache I just don't understand. Every night I wonder, if the problem was me, but I will never get an answer to these pondering questions sadly. So maybe I am angry, maybe I am sad, maybe I hate you, and maybe I just wanted you to love me and finally understand. You were once my mother, that much is true. But I cannot forgive these pains, that is, it's your daughter Fu. Goodbye my mother, I never got to say thank you for the scars you left. They certainly are here to stay.
Dear Uncle Sakuta
I heard stories of your tales,
Of the battles you faced and wars you wagged
The people you saved,
And I want to know how you began,
To give dad that big smile, a smile so grand,
You hang in a picture,
You hang in our hearts,
Your name hangs on that grave,
Now that you and him are apart,
Give me your wisdom I must know,
How to give him the same smile,
He wore long ago,
Through all the perils,
Through all the pain,
One day I hope to be able to say,
I could be the one to make him happy again,
But till that day comes thank you Uncle Sakuta for being his friend.
The Wind
The grass would russell with the wind. As people in the distances russell it too. And I wonder what they might be going through. The voices, oh they echo, from behind, of their own conversations and own little lifes. It's odd how we seem to be the main character from our point of view. But if you stop you'll realize this certainly isn't true. Everyone is like the water, a pond, that rippes back and forth, one person's splash can ruin the fun. Or maybe it's the ocean that seems to fit more, because there's so many different people in this world, everyones aboard. I want to be the lilies in this pond, that float above it all and look all around, at the beauty of ordinary lives, that bloom like flowers around town. I want to be a blue flower, those are the best kind, or maybe be a tree that reaches its branches oh so high. As I sit and ponder as I sit and live, I realize things are forever moving, everythings alive, the world is breathing its own tune, the wind exhaling to survive.
Love. Love! Love?
What does it mean? I heard in fairy tales true love's kiss meets all your needs. But love isn't a fairytale this much is true, it's more of butterflies in your stomach who flutter and who fall, never one steady motion that keeps us all, happy and all gitty I see this through. I've never felt that kind of love and honestly I'm kinda scared to. To lose the ones you love what a simple shame, I'm scared of what awaits me if I entertain that game. Of love oh its sour, bitter, and despair. yet we seek the thing we cannot keep, trying to breath it like air. I suppose we're only choking, unable to breathe, the love that gives us life when everything is bleeding. Bleeding, red is that why love is considered red- because you give your blood, your sweat, your tears, for something that cannot be had. This poem is certainly not love I suppose. But a hate for love, love I could never be hold. One day I hope, all the blood we have bleed, will be worth it in the end. I'm sorry oh so sorry, love is supposed to be, something oh so giddy we scream with joying plees. But it is not as hopeless as I have made it to be, for there are always two sides to a story, love can be more than just butterflies struggling. Love can be the water and the wine, the fuel that keeps us going and even when everything might die. It is the hope that pushes us along, on this boat ride, screw it, raging storm of everyday life. Love is never easy. It's not always glee, sometimes love is painful but that makes the happier moments even happier you see! For the moon cannot exist without the sun and the tides and the waves, it requires sacrifice to truly display the beauty of what love is, it may not be planned. But love, my dear reader, is certainly something whose beauty is learning to understand. How it works in people, in you and in me, love is what never dies, it keeps on carrying me. Love. Love! Love? What does it mean to me? It means the joy, the sadness, every emotion can be seen.
Greed
You should have stopped when she left, And now you've shattered more hearts than you've kept. You're getting your dues, they're getting paid, for all the ways you made them play, a game where you broke their heart. Shattered it tore it apart. What is wrong with you? Why do you play such sick games? People's emotions are to be savored not thrown away. I love you my father, I know life is hard, but if you can so easily scar those around you, how long till I'm apart, of the pain and despair I cannot survive, I was hardly floating now I'm drowning, will I die? Greed, oh greed, a trait we all share, yet others take more, and others just stare. The strong shall survive the weak shall despair, I am poor, I am robbed of love and feeling any care. What is happening to me? Why do they all leave? Dad, don't be like the lady from before, who tricked me. Told me she had love to give and took it after she had gotten it in return, I guess it wasn't real, the greed of wanting everything, I am so unaware. That I have been robbed, rumbled, and ruined. These games are getting old and I cannot do it. I am trapped in this greed for I cannot leave, I have no one else and despite everything, I love you I do, just like that lady who holds me down, my mother, my father, why can't you just be around. I need you to hold me, explain what this is, this feeling, this loneliness.
Burdens
I'm gonna be blunt. I can no longer lie. I feel like I'm dying, on fire from the inside. I tried to flee but they ended up hating me. So I crawled back, sore because my mother left me. Dad said he could do much better, we'd be a family we'd have each other. But the more we trudged the more I see, this broken little family is hurting me. He was greedy. She wanted to be mom. He thought my problems were easy to solve. But none of them know me, none of them tried to tell me I was going to be alright. I was involved in their problems, each little one, breaking me down, what have I become? All of my issues, I should have just tried to put my foot down and say goodbye. But hate runs deep, love easily withers, so I risk my mental state for even a sliver. Of admiration for the love I gave. You know my adopted sister took it away. Niki tried to leave me alone, Dad thought love was more important than his own, children who suffer because of his ploys, I don't think Perscilla realizes I can't survive. With yet another mother whos only for show, gets what she wants and leaves me alone. Alone alone, that's all I am, in romance, in family, in all the above. They reach out they ask for me to take their hand, but which hand will betray me as soon as I grasp, I cannot choose, I cannot find, which hell is worse in this lifetime. He was right the issues hold on. Forever and ever until I'm all gone. Is this why she jumped? Is this why the pills... I can't do that now- but I'm starting to understand why after all this time, she gave up the fight. This poem's quite hopeless but so am I now. A child maybe but it's not like I can leave. I'm trapped in this hell. I'm trapped in this home, they don't care about me, not even when she was at her wits end, dad drove her to die, and mom to not care, but maybe the real issue is that I am still here. Fighting for a battle I will always lose, recklessly praying to not be scarred and bruised. Oh sweet little child I used to be, I'm sorry you suffered through all these things.
Trust
They built you up to break you down, Trust us they say and you'll be found. Trust all the violence, trust the betrayal, trust all the backstabbing until I can not make a sound Until I am smaller, smaller than you, a little shell hollow inside broken and you say it's all fine. You've got me you'll take me away from this pain, pain you caused at the end of the day. The fighting, the threats, I'm done with it all, every one of the adults are seemingly corrupt. I hope they all fall. To make way for a future, one without pain, when they leave behind this rotten world, that cannot be sustained. Every parent, teacher, and nurse, were manipulated from the beginning a human made curse. Childhood rotting, screaming in despair, we were all lied to, no trust has ever been here. Trust me they say I know what is best, well screw you for thinking I'd believe such a test. I test of faith, of which I have none, you do not know what I have become. Through all these trials I held faith like a gun, and when I pulled the trigger it failed. I want none of your false hope and trust in those. I see, everyone is another enemy waiting for an opportunity to get ahead of me. Trust, who? No one it seems, I cannot even trust I am still me, after all of these trials all of these scarres, you've made me grow up, this has gone too far, I wanted to be a child you see but my childhood bliss left when she told me I was nothing, not important enough for her to stay, at the end of the day the trust I gave was thrown away.
Pains I Can No Longer Rhyme
No longer can I rhyme.
My pain is far too much to be any longer a silly feel good verse that I cleverly came up with.
These pains are waves.
Crashing against my body. Leaving imprints.
Mental scars.
I bleed a sea, I see agony, of screams.
Tears, sweat and blood, were sacrificed for even a sliver of a normal life.
Waste.
What a waste they are.
I am torn between what is wrong and what is right.
Should I be selfish, should I run. What
should I hold onto and let go.
Abyss of feelings.
Dark and empty and alone with no stopping point, no end, it's cold but not that kind of cold where you get drenched in the rain and warm up after. The kind of dry cold that cracks your lips and your skin, and makes your eyes dry
because you cried the last tear your body could muster. And now you're a dried up, useless person who is lost. A cold beach, the waves crashing against, reminding you of the loud silence of your pains and how they will forever be creeping closer along the beach.
Your beach.
I
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Save me from this. Beach of regrets. Ocean of sorrow.
River of tears.
Cry me a river.
Already did.
Cry me a sea,
Already have,
Cry cry cry,
Whine and complain till you're all out of anything besides the hollow shell you now reside in.
I'm blunt and I hurt them because I can no longer put it nicely.
This isn't a burning
feelings, but a cold sting, it's not hell, it's not living, it's an abyss where breathing is only a luxury one I cannot afford.
Never
Believe
everything
You
Hear
Their lies and my trust is shriveled to pieces.
I'm done trying to act like I was anything less than someone to make others
feel better.
This ends now, or I'll be damned. I would say I'd be dead but
I think that happened long ago.
D
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Burn
Its burning, its burning its white at the core, too bright to look at, it leaves my eyes sore. The smoke is filling my lungs oh it aches. The smoke of the words is caking the walls, tears and anguish of which I cannot find, are being burned away by the hotness of this flame. Yet the flame I should have felt in that moment was already out. And I was only soot and ash and cold and alone. Everything had burned, it is nothing. I have nothing and I no longer know if I can feel anything. I cried in forms of fires, fires that simmered for days and weeks, trialing the entirety of feelings where I cared, and now I find I did it all for someone else's peace of mind. So what have I gained from this fire not long gone. Nothing but soot and ash and the feeling of being more empty than when I began. The fire was so hot and yet I took it all and now that its all out, I feel myself begin to fall, I have become ash myself against the burning flames, of others suffer and others pains. I should have been more selfish, should have left long ago, but the thing I feared the most was I'd loose the ones I sacrificed the burning and the heat for. The ones I love despite the burns they leave with me with. It was worth it for them. But for me can I say the same? How many burns can one take before they no longer look or act the same. The biggest burn of all- was when he seemed to say, he did not care about us leaving just like when mom turned us away. Perhaps the if the biggest fire was ash, I might be able to breath, even though I cannot breathe the same, the smoke is here to stay. The burns will always be there, the smell of smoke close behind, the more I think about it, the more I know there's no coming back from this, this time. The fire is now out, everything has gone, I know once things have becoming soot against the ground, it is impossible for them to ever be around. Burned and covered I wonder what to do. Can I forgive those who started these fires, or will I forever be used. Arson is not pretty, in fact its not allowed, but they never talked about the mental arson that burns my feelings till they can no longer be found. Mental arson, can never fully be repaired because the soot marks, stain the walls why are arsonists so unfair. They chose to burn everything I had built, I didn't get a choice of not getting hurt. Arsonists choose the land they think will burn, the brightest and the biggest because they love to see it spread rapidly it goes, till everything is dancing, flame, ash, and smoke, painting the landscape as they laugh and joke. But I am not laughing I'm chocking on the smoke, unable to even cry, because the fire burns my tears up.
Hiraeth
The piles upon piles of dread are suffocating. In the midst of being buried. I feel I've been laid to rest six feet under. The loneliness is that of the lost souls that wander the graveyard in search of their homes. Homes they can no longer return to. For it they did, their pale face and hallow eyes would scare away those who claimed to love them. But I suppose those wandering souls and I are not much different. I am hallow eyed, pale face, and all those I trust seem to run. It should come as no surprise that the one who I so trusted the most became my heart aching downfall in the end. For I was promised a life that was too good, one where I'd be free of these shackles. These binds of bitter loneliness. In that light I am horrible to, for I left as well. Only to escape this for I could no longer wallow in it. And I caused them great agony for they thought as I now understand, I was gone forever. Just like her, him, her, all of them. All leaving for reasons of selfish intent of which I find I cannot fully commit to. Because if I did so happen to commit I would only be passing on this feeling to another. And even if they deserved it in one way another, I would not cast this feeling down upon my least favorite person. That least favorite person is me, myself, and I. I am wallowing in self pity. Perhaps I am already the selfish creature I sought to run away from. But running away is what created the monster in the first place. What words can I use to describe the true agony of being betrayed and left for dead? Even if I shall not parish but instead wither away into nothing but a husk with nothing but empty eyes. I am a ghost. A ghost who wanders for my home, one to call my own, but the only home I have left I left behind when I died. And the grave cannot certainly be my home, for it is too cold, too dark, but it seems the only place I am pulled back to. How to find a home that is impossible to get to, to see, or to hear, when it is nothing more than a wish, wished through tears. A home I cannot return to, or never was to be, a hiraeth of strung together realities. Ones I have strung together in my beliefs of change and fantasies that are just playful little day dreams that fog my brain, like its fogging the graveyard. Its hazy and I find I am left where I once began. A grave.
Forcibly Drowning
Hands Around My Neck, closing till I cannot breath, I think I've lost all form of sense. They wrapped their hands around me, just to squeeze tight so I could no long breathe. Pushed me under the surface of the water, as the water fills my lungs I scream in silence. Because the water holds my sound. I am struggling against their grasp, their fingernails digging into my neck, making it bleed a pretty shade of red. The water and my tears mix with the red, till its thinned like the standards I set that maybe one day a adult would stay. The blood is thinning and so is this care for living. But I made a promise I wouldn't leave, I won't break that, I can't. But I can't breathe, being drowned, its all going dark and I want to exhale and let the tears, water, and blood take away this thing called living. I've lost the will to fight any longer. Maybe I was weak in the end. I had a chance to fix it and I failed. So my fight is over and the hands around my neck are pressing into my wind pipe. I'm taking in the water and nothing comes out, I'm taking it all in and I cannot push anything out. I am filling up until my insides burst. And its the feeling of dying it must be but without the sweet release. So I'm being chocking and drowned and bursting from the inside out all at the same time. And nobody knows. Nobody. And I'm being chocked so I cannot speak because I cannot fight and since I cannot fight I am dying. And so I will I want to but I cannot. And now the only hope I had for a better life is gone. All I have left is those I must protect but I cannot find the will myself. So how do you save others when you are being held down and drowning. You are helpless as I am now. Unable to escape unable to run. Pinned down by the grief of what once was but will never be. For in the end I was unable to save those I held dear to me. And its just a little game, fate chuckles at my sores. If I had the will to escape I'd do it once more. But pain is a funny thing that slips deep inside. Like a splinter just under the surface of the skin, a pain I find I am binded in. And you scratch and pinch for hours, at the spot where its rooted, and it festers. But I can't keep scratching it. Its going to start bleeding and get infected and then well... then its all gross and no one wants to look at it so they cover it up and try to forget about it. And others think its gross to so they stop looking. And you're left alone with this gross thing that you didn't mean to obtain in the first place. So, its a loop. A circle of pain and betrayal and false hope and false love. I am tired of it all. I just want to stop fighting and drown. But I promised and I cannot leave when they need me most, but this festering splinter hurts like hell. Hello world... why was I chosen to be forsaken? Why me... why us? My family just wanted to be average and we got shit. A shit mother who couldn't bothering staying. A sister who ran because she selfishly choose to leave us behind, a father who was forcibly taken, the other father who took him, and so many more. Fuck being an adult. Let me die. I didn't understand why it was me. What did I ever do? I tried my best, I did I did my best but I am not good enough. I am a horrible sister, a horrible daughter, a horrible person. I could not save another person... how long till I disappoint and loose another. I lost two parents today. And I should have made a choice... but I didn't so I lost them both in the end. This is why people make choices. And I was too stupid to realize I had to choose. What couldn't I choose? Why. WHY COULDN'T I. I want to leave. To die. Let me fucking drown, don't pull me out for a breathe of air just to dunk me under the water again. Why were you so cruel? he was hurting you. I was there to comfort you. So what more could I have done to make you happy? What more could I have done for you to see- I loved you both and that wasn't good enough. Were you so selfish you'd take one away so I wouldn't have a choice? WHY WHY WHY.
Selfish Love
I'm jealous of the way everyone of them looked into another's eyes and/or felt love was more than a disguise. The kind of love that parents give to their children, the kind of love people give to those they care about. I want someone to look at me like I'm the most important thing they've ever seen. Like I matter enough for them to never leave. And to give me a hug and truly mean, they love me. I want the kind of love where your in love instead of used for it. Where you give each other goodnight hugs and skip through the woods with smiles of glee. Where you know that smile is for you and no one but you. Like you're the person they've been dreaming of all their life and they'd never let go if the world were to end. One where its not just a broken form of love that never mends. Where love isn't a word I use to describe the feelings I've wanted all of this time. I'm not someone's favorite person who they'd want to see, on the days they're feeling weak. Unless of course that weak is seeking pity and I give and they take and my love is all gone. I squeeze it out from my bones like a washcloth till is all dry. No one fills me back up and sure my siblings do, but the real love I want is someone who wouldn't just take and take it all. Someone who would give me their all. Because I give my all every day. For nothing that stays forever like I crave. Mother dearest, dad's one and only hug, sis betraying the love I gave, I'm tired of this charade. I want to be the kind of in love where we dance in the rain and are there in that bad and good. But no one wants a broken little girl who couldn't even keep her family around. I fucked up with the last parents I had and now my whell is dry. Dear god my throat is cracking, I can hardly speak anymore. I've given up so I smile for them. But inside I'm jealous of that happiness. Sure they deserve it. But do I not deserve it to? Was there something I did to be unworthy of the same kind of love? Did I give away too much and now I'm on empty. I guess it really is my fault then. Whoops my bad. Dads in jail, dads in a coma, Moms gone forever and sis took my love and ran. She knew I couldn't stop her it went just as she planned. But why can't it ever work out for me? Why can't I have fun? Why can't love stay around for someone like me? I'm a broken record people used up and I'm faking this smile convincing myself I just need to be happy because I'm tired of being sad. But this smile ain't real, this entire act is a lie, I've been lying to myself and I've been trying not to fall apart. But the more I look around, the more I start to see, the only one without true love or has ever experienced it in general is me. They might argue they don't have it now, it didn't go well, but for that moment it did they had something which would hold. Them and all their worries. Their pains and their cries. But no ones ever truly batted an eye, at me in such a way, they'd lay down their life, throw up their hands in preparation for a fight. No one would challenge another foe for me. Because the truth is of the matter is I'm just not worth anything. No one wants to risk pain for the dried up love wheel. And why would they when I've got nothing to give them at all? I'm sorry if I'm self pitying again. I'm sorry if this is the most selfish thing I've ever written. You can hate me I'm sure deep down you already do. I just wish I was loved in a way that they'd ask me how I really was. Not the surface level dumb little lie of "I'm fine." I'm not fine, and no one seems to get this smiles fake, and I pushed away everything because I have to take care of them. And he thinks he's taking care of us, that we're protected as long as he's around, but he's not the one pulling the strings its me. I'm the one who's been protecting and holding everything together. He thinks he's baby sitting me, but all he's doing is looking at the surface, I have no scars. But deep down I'm aching from all these stab wounds. So maybe I am selfish. For wanting true love. And maybe life's not fair and all that they tell me. But maybe just maybe I wish I could get it or feel like I deserve it. All I've ever do is try to help them. And I apologized. For something that wasn't even my fucking fault. So yeah I'm selfish for wanting some love. But fuck you and fuck life for not letting me have it in the first place. I was born into somewhere with no love. And I begged for scraps. I got ONE HUG. One. From him. His parting gift to me was asking to defend him after everything he did to me. And I did because I wanted love from him. And when he left, when he left I didn't even get a glance. Not one glance. Not before that not after not ever. Everyone else did. Everyone else. So why didn't he love me enough to say goodbye. Or mom or sis or anyone else. And why can't I ever be happy. Or feel love. Why am I so alone yet everyone says they're their for me? Why Can't I- find the love I hunger for.
Dear Mother
Mother. Could I even call you that even up till now? I thought you loved our family enough to stick around. You told us it was for grandma, she was sick in bed, but you lied about that didn't you? You didn't plan to mend all the problems that we had, in this family, you didn't even care, you threw our love against the curb, left us bare. Stitch loved you dearly, Niki certainly tried, but the moment you left this family a part of me sure died. Why did you leave us? What had we done, to be worthy of such heartache I just don't understand. Every night I wonder, if the problem was me, but I will never get an answer to these pondering questions sadly. So maybe I am angry, maybe I am sad, maybe I hate you, and maybe I just wanted you to love me and finally understand. You were once my mother, that much is true. But I cannot forgive these pains, that is, it's your daughter Fu. Goodbye my mother, I never got to say thank you for the scars you left. They certainly are here to stay.
Dear Uncle Sakuta
I heard stories of your tales,
Of the battles you faced and wars you wagged
The people you saved,
And I want to know how you began,
To give dad that big smile, a smile so grand,
You hang in a picture,
You hang in our hearts,
Your name hangs on that grave,
Now that you and him are apart,
Give me your wisdom I must know,
How to give him the same smile,
He wore long ago,
Through all the perils,
Through all the pain,
One day I hope to be able to say,
I could be the one to make him happy again,
But till that day comes thank you Uncle Sakuta for being his friend.
The Wind
The grass would russell with the wind. As people in the distances russell it too. And I wonder what they might be going through. The voices, oh they echo, from behind, of their own conversations and own little lifes. It's odd how we seem to be the main character from our point of view. But if you stop you'll realize this certainly isn't true. Everyone is like the water, a pond, that rippes back and forth, one person's splash can ruin the fun. Or maybe it's the ocean that seems to fit more, because there's so many different people in this world, everyones aboard. I want to be the lilies in this pond, that float above it all and look all around, at the beauty of ordinary lives, that bloom like flowers around town. I want to be a blue flower, those are the best kind, or maybe be a tree that reaches its branches oh so high. As I sit and ponder as I sit and live, I realize things are forever moving, everythings alive, the world is breathing its own tune, the wind exhaling to survive.
Love. Love! Love?
What does it mean? I heard in fairy tales true love's kiss meets all your needs. But love isn't a fairytale this much is true, it's more of butterflies in your stomach who flutter and who fall, never one steady motion that keeps us all, happy and all gitty I see this through. I've never felt that kind of love and honestly I'm kinda scared to. To lose the ones you love what a simple shame, I'm scared of what awaits me if I entertain that game. Of love oh its sour, bitter, and despair. yet we seek the thing we cannot keep, trying to breath it like air. I suppose we're only choking, unable to breathe, the love that gives us life when everything is bleeding. Bleeding, red is that why love is considered red- because you give your blood, your sweat, your tears, for something that cannot be had. This poem is certainly not love I suppose. But a hate for love, love I could never be hold. One day I hope, all the blood we have bleed, will be worth it in the end. I'm sorry oh so sorry, love is supposed to be, something oh so giddy we scream with joying plees. But it is not as hopeless as I have made it to be, for there are always two sides to a story, love can be more than just butterflies struggling. Love can be the water and the wine, the fuel that keeps us going and even when everything might die. It is the hope that pushes us along, on this boat ride, screw it, raging storm of everyday life. Love is never easy. It's not always glee, sometimes love is painful but that makes the happier moments even happier you see! For the moon cannot exist without the sun and the tides and the waves, it requires sacrifice to truly display the beauty of what love is, it may not be planned. But love, my dear reader, is certainly something whose beauty is learning to understand. How it works in people, in you and in me, love is what never dies, it keeps on carrying me. Love. Love! Love? What does it mean to me? It means the joy, the sadness, every emotion can be seen.
Greed
You should have stopped when she left, And now you've shattered more hearts than you've kept. You're getting your dues, they're getting paid, for all the ways you made them play, a game where you broke their heart. Shattered it tore it apart. What is wrong with you? Why do you play such sick games? People's emotions are to be savored not thrown away. I love you my father, I know life is hard, but if you can so easily scar those around you, how long till I'm apart, of the pain and despair I cannot survive, I was hardly floating now I'm drowning, will I die? Greed, oh greed, a trait we all share, yet others take more, and others just stare. The strong shall survive the weak shall despair, I am poor, I am robbed of love and feeling any care. What is happening to me? Why do they all leave? Dad, don't be like the lady from before, who tricked me. Told me she had love to give and took it after she had gotten it in return, I guess it wasn't real, the greed of wanting everything, I am so unaware. That I have been robbed, rumbled, and ruined. These games are getting old and I cannot do it. I am trapped in this greed for I cannot leave, I have no one else and despite everything, I love you I do, just like that lady who holds me down, my mother, my father, why can't you just be around. I need you to hold me, explain what this is, this feeling, this loneliness.
Burdens
I'm gonna be blunt. I can no longer lie. I feel like I'm dying, on fire from the inside. I tried to flee but they ended up hating me. So I crawled back, sore because my mother left me. Dad said he could do much better, we'd be a family we'd have each other. But the more we trudged the more I see, this broken little family is hurting me. He was greedy. She wanted to be mom. He thought my problems were easy to solve. But none of them know me, none of them tried to tell me I was going to be alright. I was involved in their problems, each little one, breaking me down, what have I become? All of my issues, I should have just tried to put my foot down and say goodbye. But hate runs deep, love easily withers, so I risk my mental state for even a sliver. Of admiration for the love I gave. You know my adopted sister took it away. Niki tried to leave me alone, Dad thought love was more important than his own, children who suffer because of his ploys, I don't think Perscilla realizes I can't survive. With yet another mother whos only for show, gets what she wants and leaves me alone. Alone alone, that's all I am, in romance, in family, in all the above. They reach out they ask for me to take their hand, but which hand will betray me as soon as I grasp, I cannot choose, I cannot find, which hell is worse in this lifetime. He was right the issues hold on. Forever and ever until I'm all gone. Is this why she jumped? Is this why the pills... I can't do that now- but I'm starting to understand why after all this time, she gave up the fight. This poem's quite hopeless but so am I now. A child maybe but it's not like I can leave. I'm trapped in this hell. I'm trapped in this home, they don't care about me, not even when she was at her wits end, dad drove her to die, and mom to not care, but maybe the real issue is that I am still here. Fighting for a battle I will always lose, recklessly praying to not be scarred and bruised. Oh sweet little child I used to be, I'm sorry you suffered through all these things.
Trust
They built you up to break you down, Trust us they say and you'll be found. Trust all the violence, trust the betrayal, trust all the backstabbing until I can not make a sound Until I am smaller, smaller than you, a little shell hollow inside broken and you say it's all fine. You've got me you'll take me away from this pain, pain you caused at the end of the day. The fighting, the threats, I'm done with it all, every one of the adults are seemingly corrupt. I hope they all fall. To make way for a future, one without pain, when they leave behind this rotten world, that cannot be sustained. Every parent, teacher, and nurse, were manipulated from the beginning a human made curse. Childhood rotting, screaming in despair, we were all lied to, no trust has ever been here. Trust me they say I know what is best, well screw you for thinking I'd believe such a test. I test of faith, of which I have none, you do not know what I have become. Through all these trials I held faith like a gun, and when I pulled the trigger it failed. I want none of your false hope and trust in those. I see, everyone is another enemy waiting for an opportunity to get ahead of me. Trust, who? No one it seems, I cannot even trust I am still me, after all of these trials all of these scarres, you've made me grow up, this has gone too far, I wanted to be a child you see but my childhood bliss left when she told me I was nothing, not important enough for her to stay, at the end of the day the trust I gave was thrown away.
Pains I Can No Longer Rhyme
No longer can I rhyme.
My pain is far too much to be any longer a silly feel good verse that I cleverly came up with.
These pains are waves.
Crashing against my body. Leaving imprints.
Mental scars.
I bleed a sea, I see agony, of screams.
Tears, sweat and blood, were sacrificed for even a sliver of a normal life.
Waste.
What a waste they are.
I am torn between what is wrong and what is right.
Should I be selfish, should I run. What
should I hold onto and let go.
Abyss of feelings.
Dark and empty and alone with no stopping point, no end, it's cold but not that kind of cold where you get drenched in the rain and warm up after. The kind of dry cold that cracks your lips and your skin, and makes your eyes dry
because you cried the last tear your body could muster. And now you're a dried up, useless person who is lost. A cold beach, the waves crashing against, reminding you of the loud silence of your pains and how they will forever be creeping closer along the beach.
Your beach.
I
w
a
n
t
t
o
b
e
f
r
e
e
o
f
t
h
i
s
h
u
r
t
Save me from this. Beach of regrets. Ocean of sorrow.
River of tears.
Cry me a river.
Already did.
Cry me a sea,
Already have,
Cry cry cry,
Whine and complain till you're all out of anything besides the hollow shell you now reside in.
I'm blunt and I hurt them because I can no longer put it nicely.
This isn't a burning
feelings, but a cold sting, it's not hell, it's not living, it's an abyss where breathing is only a luxury one I cannot afford.
Never
Believe
everything
You
Hear
Their lies and my trust is shriveled to pieces.
I'm done trying to act like I was anything less than someone to make others
feel better.
This ends now, or I'll be damned. I would say I'd be dead but
I think that happened long ago.
D
O
N
T
L
E
A
V
E
M
E
Burn
Its burning, its burning its white at the core, too bright to look at, it leaves my eyes sore. The smoke is filling my lungs oh it aches. The smoke of the words is caking the walls, tears and anguish of which I cannot find, are being burned away by the hotness of this flame. Yet the flame I should have felt in that moment was already out. And I was only soot and ash and cold and alone. Everything had burned, it is nothing. I have nothing and I no longer know if I can feel anything. I cried in forms of fires, fires that simmered for days and weeks, trialing the entirety of feelings where I cared, and now I find I did it all for someone else's peace of mind. So what have I gained from this fire not long gone. Nothing but soot and ash and the feeling of being more empty than when I began. The fire was so hot and yet I took it all and now that its all out, I feel myself begin to fall, I have become ash myself against the burning flames, of others suffer and others pains. I should have been more selfish, should have left long ago, but the thing I feared the most was I'd loose the ones I sacrificed the burning and the heat for. The ones I love despite the burns they leave with me with. It was worth it for them. But for me can I say the same? How many burns can one take before they no longer look or act the same. The biggest burn of all- was when he seemed to say, he did not care about us leaving just like when mom turned us away. Perhaps the if the biggest fire was ash, I might be able to breath, even though I cannot breathe the same, the smoke is here to stay. The burns will always be there, the smell of smoke close behind, the more I think about it, the more I know there's no coming back from this, this time. The fire is now out, everything has gone, I know once things have becoming soot against the ground, it is impossible for them to ever be around. Burned and covered I wonder what to do. Can I forgive those who started these fires, or will I forever be used. Arson is not pretty, in fact its not allowed, but they never talked about the mental arson that burns my feelings till they can no longer be found. Mental arson, can never fully be repaired because the soot marks, stain the walls why are arsonists so unfair. They chose to burn everything I had built, I didn't get a choice of not getting hurt. Arsonists choose the land they think will burn, the brightest and the biggest because they love to see it spread rapidly it goes, till everything is dancing, flame, ash, and smoke, painting the landscape as they laugh and joke. But I am not laughing I'm chocking on the smoke, unable to even cry, because the fire burns my tears up.
Hiraeth
The piles upon piles of dread are suffocating. In the midst of being buried. I feel I've been laid to rest six feet under. The loneliness is that of the lost souls that wander the graveyard in search of their homes. Homes they can no longer return to. For it they did, their pale face and hallow eyes would scare away those who claimed to love them. But I suppose those wandering souls and I are not much different. I am hallow eyed, pale face, and all those I trust seem to run. It should come as no surprise that the one who I so trusted the most became my heart aching downfall in the end. For I was promised a life that was too good, one where I'd be free of these shackles. These binds of bitter loneliness. In that light I am horrible to, for I left as well. Only to escape this for I could no longer wallow in it. And I caused them great agony for they thought as I now understand, I was gone forever. Just like her, him, her, all of them. All leaving for reasons of selfish intent of which I find I cannot fully commit to. Because if I did so happen to commit I would only be passing on this feeling to another. And even if they deserved it in one way another, I would not cast this feeling down upon my least favorite person. That least favorite person is me, myself, and I. I am wallowing in self pity. Perhaps I am already the selfish creature I sought to run away from. But running away is what created the monster in the first place. What words can I use to describe the true agony of being betrayed and left for dead? Even if I shall not parish but instead wither away into nothing but a husk with nothing but empty eyes. I am a ghost. A ghost who wanders for my home, one to call my own, but the only home I have left I left behind when I died. And the grave cannot certainly be my home, for it is too cold, too dark, but it seems the only place I am pulled back to. How to find a home that is impossible to get to, to see, or to hear, when it is nothing more than a wish, wished through tears. A home I cannot return to, or never was to be, a hiraeth of strung together realities. Ones I have strung together in my beliefs of change and fantasies that are just playful little day dreams that fog my brain, like its fogging the graveyard. Its hazy and I find I am left where I once began. A grave.
Forcibly Drowning
Hands Around My Neck, closing till I cannot breath, I think I've lost all form of sense. They wrapped their hands around me, just to squeeze tight so I could no long breathe. Pushed me under the surface of the water, as the water fills my lungs I scream in silence. Because the water holds my sound. I am struggling against their grasp, their fingernails digging into my neck, making it bleed a pretty shade of red. The water and my tears mix with the red, till its thinned like the standards I set that maybe one day a adult would stay. The blood is thinning and so is this care for living. But I made a promise I wouldn't leave, I won't break that, I can't. But I can't breathe, being drowned, its all going dark and I want to exhale and let the tears, water, and blood take away this thing called living. I've lost the will to fight any longer. Maybe I was weak in the end. I had a chance to fix it and I failed. So my fight is over and the hands around my neck are pressing into my wind pipe. I'm taking in the water and nothing comes out, I'm taking it all in and I cannot push anything out. I am filling up until my insides burst. And its the feeling of dying it must be but without the sweet release. So I'm being chocking and drowned and bursting from the inside out all at the same time. And nobody knows. Nobody. And I'm being chocked so I cannot speak because I cannot fight and since I cannot fight I am dying. And so I will I want to but I cannot. And now the only hope I had for a better life is gone. All I have left is those I must protect but I cannot find the will myself. So how do you save others when you are being held down and drowning. You are helpless as I am now. Unable to escape unable to run. Pinned down by the grief of what once was but will never be. For in the end I was unable to save those I held dear to me. And its just a little game, fate chuckles at my sores. If I had the will to escape I'd do it once more. But pain is a funny thing that slips deep inside. Like a splinter just under the surface of the skin, a pain I find I am binded in. And you scratch and pinch for hours, at the spot where its rooted, and it festers. But I can't keep scratching it. Its going to start bleeding and get infected and then well... then its all gross and no one wants to look at it so they cover it up and try to forget about it. And others think its gross to so they stop looking. And you're left alone with this gross thing that you didn't mean to obtain in the first place. So, its a loop. A circle of pain and betrayal and false hope and false love. I am tired of it all. I just want to stop fighting and drown. But I promised and I cannot leave when they need me most, but this festering splinter hurts like hell. Hello world... why was I chosen to be forsaken? Why me... why us? My family just wanted to be average and we got shit. A shit mother who couldn't bothering staying. A sister who ran because she selfishly choose to leave us behind, a father who was forcibly taken, the other father who took him, and so many more. Fuck being an adult. Let me die. I didn't understand why it was me. What did I ever do? I tried my best, I did I did my best but I am not good enough. I am a horrible sister, a horrible daughter, a horrible person. I could not save another person... how long till I disappoint and loose another. I lost two parents today. And I should have made a choice... but I didn't so I lost them both in the end. This is why people make choices. And I was too stupid to realize I had to choose. What couldn't I choose? Why. WHY COULDN'T I. I want to leave. To die. Let me fucking drown, don't pull me out for a breathe of air just to dunk me under the water again. Why were you so cruel? he was hurting you. I was there to comfort you. So what more could I have done to make you happy? What more could I have done for you to see- I loved you both and that wasn't good enough. Were you so selfish you'd take one away so I wouldn't have a choice? WHY WHY WHY.
Selfish Love
I'm jealous of the way everyone of them looked into another's eyes and/or felt love was more than a disguise. The kind of love that parents give to their children, the kind of love people give to those they care about. I want someone to look at me like I'm the most important thing they've ever seen. Like I matter enough for them to never leave. And to give me a hug and truly mean, they love me. I want the kind of love where your in love instead of used for it. Where you give each other goodnight hugs and skip through the woods with smiles of glee. Where you know that smile is for you and no one but you. Like you're the person they've been dreaming of all their life and they'd never let go if the world were to end. One where its not just a broken form of love that never mends. Where love isn't a word I use to describe the feelings I've wanted all of this time. I'm not someone's favorite person who they'd want to see, on the days they're feeling weak. Unless of course that weak is seeking pity and I give and they take and my love is all gone. I squeeze it out from my bones like a washcloth till is all dry. No one fills me back up and sure my siblings do, but the real love I want is someone who wouldn't just take and take it all. Someone who would give me their all. Because I give my all every day. For nothing that stays forever like I crave. Mother dearest, dad's one and only hug, sis betraying the love I gave, I'm tired of this charade. I want to be the kind of in love where we dance in the rain and are there in that bad and good. But no one wants a broken little girl who couldn't even keep her family around. I fucked up with the last parents I had and now my whell is dry. Dear god my throat is cracking, I can hardly speak anymore. I've given up so I smile for them. But inside I'm jealous of that happiness. Sure they deserve it. But do I not deserve it to? Was there something I did to be unworthy of the same kind of love? Did I give away too much and now I'm on empty. I guess it really is my fault then. Whoops my bad. Dads in jail, dads in a coma, Moms gone forever and sis took my love and ran. She knew I couldn't stop her it went just as she planned. But why can't it ever work out for me? Why can't I have fun? Why can't love stay around for someone like me? I'm a broken record people used up and I'm faking this smile convincing myself I just need to be happy because I'm tired of being sad. But this smile ain't real, this entire act is a lie, I've been lying to myself and I've been trying not to fall apart. But the more I look around, the more I start to see, the only one without true love or has ever experienced it in general is me. They might argue they don't have it now, it didn't go well, but for that moment it did they had something which would hold. Them and all their worries. Their pains and their cries. But no ones ever truly batted an eye, at me in such a way, they'd lay down their life, throw up their hands in preparation for a fight. No one would challenge another foe for me. Because the truth is of the matter is I'm just not worth anything. No one wants to risk pain for the dried up love wheel. And why would they when I've got nothing to give them at all? I'm sorry if I'm self pitying again. I'm sorry if this is the most selfish thing I've ever written. You can hate me I'm sure deep down you already do. I just wish I was loved in a way that they'd ask me how I really was. Not the surface level dumb little lie of "I'm fine." I'm not fine, and no one seems to get this smiles fake, and I pushed away everything because I have to take care of them. And he thinks he's taking care of us, that we're protected as long as he's around, but he's not the one pulling the strings its me. I'm the one who's been protecting and holding everything together. He thinks he's baby sitting me, but all he's doing is looking at the surface, I have no scars. But deep down I'm aching from all these stab wounds. So maybe I am selfish. For wanting true love. And maybe life's not fair and all that they tell me. But maybe just maybe I wish I could get it or feel like I deserve it. All I've ever do is try to help them. And I apologized. For something that wasn't even my fucking fault. So yeah I'm selfish for wanting some love. But fuck you and fuck life for not letting me have it in the first place. I was born into somewhere with no love. And I begged for scraps. I got ONE HUG. One. From him. His parting gift to me was asking to defend him after everything he did to me. And I did because I wanted love from him. And when he left, when he left I didn't even get a glance. Not one glance. Not before that not after not ever. Everyone else did. Everyone else. So why didn't he love me enough to say goodbye. Or mom or sis or anyone else. And why can't I ever be happy. Or feel love. Why am I so alone yet everyone says they're their for me? Why Can't I- find the love I hunger for.
It hurts. This distrustful weighted burden. Each day I ask myself, will it grow ever larger? How much will a human being, as small and weak as myself, be able to handle before they no longer trust their own self. Or maybe I am already in that moment, for I know not who I am anymore. I've laid a drift in this sea, floating, not sinking nor finding a shore. Never resting from the terrible seas, unable to enjoy the calm waves for the sun scorns me too. And how dry my mouth is, I thirst for the revival of this constant aching story of mine. The water is bitter, cold, and I do not fit there. As well as nor am I able to be amongst the sunrays. I am but a solemn extra puzzle piece. I’ve been pulled into opposite currents yet in time I realize neither will make me happy. Neither will it make everyone I know happy if I were to choose a side. And why should I care if they are happy? For what good does that do me? But if I do not make others happy, what use am I? These tangling and two sided thoughts plague me every turn of my life.
And though many may not call mine as traject as theirs has been, I pray perhaps someone might listen to this tale and tell me I was enough. For isn’t it only human nature to want to feel you were in the right, or at least not entirely in the wrong. I do not wish to burden you with my woes, so turn away from these pages if you cannot find it within yourself to read self pleas for a better, redone life. And to all those who continue, do not pity me, for that will only make me believe I never should have shared this in the first place. I wish to worry no one, nor do I wish to have false sympathy for my trifles.
It began long ago, of course so long ago I do not remember the details. They’re like strokes of acrylic paint upon a canvas. Not a straight form but getting the picture across, well what I interpret it as at the very least. I was born the identical cloned one of four. The only difference was the first letter of my name and even then, it was always “you four” and never you “Fu.” That was my name, Futsuetsi. And then there was Yutsuetsi and Nutsuetsi and Sutsuetsi. My sisters. They were the first thing I had come to know, in the womb. Second of those I knew were my parents. My father “Lenard” and my loving mother Sutsuyu. And I put loving in so much emphasis, you will understand later as to why. My father’s real name was not Lenard, but for his dignity, if he really has any left, I shall not name it.
We grew up in the world of Keelung, China. The details are faint and blurry now. But on special occasions of stress or fear I might come to recall it. My father was often away. He worked in Japan funny enough. You would have thought perhaps he might work within our own country, but he did not. And so our mother was left to tend to the four of us. She worked as well, it was not until later I realized her quite unhealthy addiction to that. She was quite unfair in some ways. I would like to attribute this to perhaps an uneasy childhood, for I wish to view her as positively as possible although it's hard to do.
She, from my view, never saw us individually. We were “the girls” or “the quads,” in fact I don’t think I can recall once she referred to me as my name unless I was in some sort of trouble. Then my name would be screamed with a strong distaste like backwashed drinking water. We were made to dress the same and never leave one another’s side. I do not mean to villinize my mother either, for my father, though he was a bit better, often did the same sort of thing. And he played favorites. I have no ill will towards any of my sisters, but heaven knows Yutsu was his favorite. This is well attributed to her being the weakest in birth, the youngest, so perhaps she needed that extra loving hand. Though there was not enough of that love to go around in the first place. We lacked it.
Nutsu hated our mother, for she received most of her harsh criticism and punishment. She was the oldest, as was tradition they always took the brunt for the others. Sutsu was attached to our mother’s hip, she never strayed far and looked up to her the most. Perhaps she was the most broken after the incident. And where was I in this family favorite list? Well I’d consider myself a bit of a middle child. I did not rebel as Nutsu did, nor did I love and cherish one parent very closely. Not to say I didn’t love them, I did, I do, but it felt odd. I belonged because I was born into it. But neither parent made me feel cared for, or whatever a parent is supposed to make their child feel. It wasn’t for years and years that I realized this. It was too late by then.
And nor was their relationship very grand, my mother and father’s. They fought often. But this was due in part to my father’s condition, of which Sutsu gained as she grew older. He could not compose himself in moments of anger, it took over and he became a very scary man indeed. Although despite the rumors and many teasing accounts of him “abusing his children” he never once hit any of us. That could not be said of our mother. Of course growing up as one of four made it rather difficult to find myself. I felt just another in the herd. And I did not stray because I didn't know better. It was not until finally my father suggested the idea of us coming to live in the town where he worked, things seemed to take a turn.
I was innocent, I had seen only what my family had chosen to present me. And this town, Karakura, Japan, was unlike anything I’d previously been a part of. Despite our father’s best attempt to keep us hidden from the world, it was not to be. For he had already made a name for our family and I’m positive it was not a good one. Mother did not follow, she visited several occasions but stayed behind in Keelung for her work studies. I did not understand it, why must that be more important? We had enough money, it wasn’t fair. We were all sixteen. Still locked in a single mindset of “the girls.” But our personalities hidden beneath the surface would blossom. Now dear old mother, the last time I saw her, she was tired and bitter towards us deep down. Although she kept the same smile, fake. Nonthewiser we waved goodbye, she claimed she was going to visit our grandmother who had become quite ill.
Months passed without a word, we feared the worst and then that morning came. I had given my father the mail, I noticed one ominous envelope had our address but no return address. It peaked my interest and so I hid behind a corner to listen in as he unpackaged this. It may have been slightly illegal but my curious mind needed to know. I heard a faint painful gruff come from him. The mug swelling with coffee he had drank dropped to the floor with a porcelain break. And I heard, for the first time in years, he began to quietly sob. And I realized later on, that letter had been from my mother. Although it was not handwritten words of sympathy for what she had done. Oh no, it was the cold printed divorce paper settlement her lawyer, no doubt, had typed up with a grin thinking not of the family he would destroy but the money he might receive from my mother severing the connection.
I don’t think my father ever recovered. Nor did any of my siblings and I deep down. It was such a shock, one moment we believed she was dead, perhaps that would have been better to spare us the heartbreak. And the next moment she was alive, unwilling to hold us again. Unwilling to sing us to sleep or hold us tight. Why had life dealt us these cards? I often question myself each and every day. But it cannot be helped and so life goes on.
All I remember from the two months after that fact was a mixture of trying to uplift my fallen siblings along with Nutsu and taking care of my father in his deep state of depression. And one day, he just snapped. He began to seem more distant with us and more close to other adults. There were three I distinctly recall to this moment. The third, Henry Hamilton, who saved us from some college bullies. The second Perscilla Ryder, a highschool art teacher, who had a fondness for children, even those who were not her own. And first, Gael O’Leary, the poetry professor, who I’ll talk about in much depth soon.
He danced around with each, it's hard to know, for he never commented, which overlapped and which he considered to actually be dating. Nevertheless he broke all their hearts I’m sure, in his attempt to find the missing piece my mother left behind, he shattered too many people. The important one, not to say the others were any less important, it is simply one that affected me more than the others, was Gael. I had long held a passion for writing, although not being in college at the time, he allowed me in his classroom to enjoy his lectures. Often giving me poetry tasks to fuel my passion. And I enjoyed the talks we had, for he seemed to understand me well. My father loved him as well, they were dating, atleast to my knowledge. Gael cared deeply for me and even now in recollecting it I feel a sharp pain in my chest. For many have told me to forget him at all. I should not love him, if I do, then I must be a terrible person indeed. If that is the case, suppose I am terrible. But he supported me each step of the way when my father was distant. When I felt alone. And it was especially hard.
My siblings and I had grown into ourselves somewhat. Our hair had been dyed different colors and most of us, in spite of our mother, did not go by anything but nicknames. Sutsu became “Stitch.” Then “Yutsu” had become simply “Yu” and Nutsu was now “Niki.” And I was just “Fu.” And so I am today, I do not know if it was to spite my mother but it was simply easier. With my father jumping from adult to adult, it had begun to make our relationship with him and them. I tried to jump around but stuck to Gael the most strongly since he had been the first. My sisters turned away from each one, I cannot blame them for this.
Before I go any farther, I must mention that I recently was able to recall these memories. A while after we moved to Karakura, my father adopted a child. We shall refer to her as Suzume, though that's not her real name, it's what we called her. She and I were the closest of the siblings. I loved her dearly and wished to protect her since she was younger. But it seemed she had difficulties that only burdened the family. It had begun to tear the family apart in two. I cast her to the side when she was struggling to find herself. She was lost no doubt, causing trouble in hopes to draw someone to her aid. But we cast her out for her overwhelming antics. Although they were cruel and it was not fair of her, I now have come to regret how we handle ourselves. I am very ashamed of that. In any case, we replaced her soon after with our current brother Kyusaku, or Q. He protected us and cared for us far better than Lenard ever could. He was the perfect addition, although, I wish sometimes we could have had both him and Suzume. The six of us. I wonder how she is doing often. I see her from time to time but find it inappropriate to approach her.
Back to Gael. After father had become distant, jumping between Gael and the other two, we discovered this possible scandal. It was horrifying and once Gael had caught wind of it, I could see his eyes were not quite the same. Though this was not the only event that had driven us away from father, there had been several other events. His cruelty towards Niki especially. She had on several occasions done acts of which I will not speak of. But in short, it was unpleasant for me to walk into. I simply brought her to the hospital and prayed for the best. I tried to hold the family together but it seemed nearly impossible. One night, Gael mentioned something to Niki and I. We had grown the closest with him. The prospect of him adopting both of us. I was of course thrilled with the idea, we agreed.
My sisters and I were desperate for stability. Although Stitch and Yu refused to follow. Do not take this as we abandoned them, though they claim that is what we did. I have been at the brunt end of several of these “abandonment” claims. And it hurt me most of all to hear such words from their months. I tried my very best to protect them from our father. But they could not see his faults, they looked at him as if he had been the same dear old dad. He was never that.
It seemed my luck was faulty however. I received a text I believe it was. And then word of mouth from a friend of hers. Niki left us. In the same manner as our mother. At first I was told she died. I was resigned to grief. I could not handle my dear sister passing on. But as if some kind of cruel sick joke. As if my feelings were a play thing, it was found she was not dead, she was alive. She had simply left, unable to handle everything around us. The same thing we were all going through, that I thought we’d overcome together. I never got to say goodbye. I never got to hug her one last time. Just like mom. But I didn’t love mom as much as I loved Niki. I was so close to her. I felt the same way she did. And yet she couldn’t tell me it herself. I thought we were close, but not close enough for her liking I suppose.
I don’t think I’ve processed that either. And I’m going to stop recalling it, for it makes my heart race and a sense of panic come over me in simply retelling it. Now, I was alone. Niki and I had taken this step with Gael and now I was alone in it. I started to do what my sisters feared, I strayed from them. I was a terrible sister in that regard. We were all just children trying to cope with the many losses. How many more could you lose? I thought I’d lost them all. But I was far from correct. I look back on the events, they were far apart, yet all blur together now. They spanned years and it felt like months. Who's to say my account of my life is accurate in any form? Grief and pain warp your perception of events I’ve been told. I was numb. I had no time to process each of these events one after another after another. I don’t ever think I’ll be able to either. As sad as it may be to say.
Who else did I have left? There was Rini, my aunt figure. Who tried her best to make Lenard a better father. She and I did not share blood, but she taught me at least one adult would stick by my side. I had Gael, my now adopted father. And lastly, I had Lenard, my father. You may start to see where this is going. It seems like a pattern of losing people. Life is cruel and biased to its own path. The city despised my father. I felt judged for taking on his last name. And they, those haters, got their chance in the end.
Father, although I never saw it, was accused of being abusive to Gael. I cannot say whether or not these were true, for they tried to hush it around me and my sisters. But my father, who as I said before, had a severe condition of uncontrolled rage, had done something foolish. He had not been medicated for months, in an absurd manner he savagely attacked one of Gael’s friends and threatened Gael not to tell a soul. It also came up, that my father had been abusing Gael physically. And so, his friend Sued my father. Using Gael as her witness. The trial, of which was biased, did not give him a bail. If he was found guilty, he would be locked up for life. Under an unjust charge of attempted murder. But not attempted murder towards Gael’s friend, but Gael himself.
I carried both their last names. Yet I testified for my blood father. I can not say I hated Lenard. I could not see the one who raised me be locked up. Taken from my siblings and I so cruelly and coldly. I had just wanted to make him smile and so I agreed, although terrified to become his witness. In a way, I was testifying for my father against my adoptive father. I had no time to prepare. I was thrown into the spotlight. Before the trial began my father said goodbye to each child. He made Q the man of the house, gave Stitch an item to remember him by, and sobbed hugging Yu tight. I didn’t get to say goodbye.
It was over so quickly. I fumbled on my words and I should have just lied. I am to blame for him being locked up, I tell myself. If I had stopped for one moment and blamed Gael maybe my father would still be here. But what no one understood besides me, was that despite me speaking to save my father, the only one who comforted me was the man who I was testifying against. Gael never lost a caring expression. I was told to be bitter to him, it hurt. I hated that he had brought my dad to court and loved that he still wanted me as his child. This was the single most agonizing feeling I have never experienced. Waiting for the results to be read. And when they did. I heard Gael’s friend scream in a joyous chord. I felt my body go numb, slumping to one side. I could feel behind me the horror of my siblings' stares. And I felt Gael catch me holding me. I was too weak to leave his grasp. I didn’t want to but I knew I had to. I turned away. Watched them take my father away in handcuffs. Never did I get that goodbye or that hug.
Although I tried many times to visit him. The police had simply said in their cold way, if he wanted to kill his lover, he would also kill his own kids. And then they dismissed me. It wasn’t fair. None of this loss was fair. But don’t think it's over. In my experience there is always something yet to come. My siblings in a fiery anger demanded I drop Gael’s name. That I do not associate around him or even perceive him as my father. He was all I had left. The only source of hope. And yet, I had to be loyal to my blood, my siblings. I don’t know which loss was harder. But standing on that pier, confessing I could no longer be his child tore my heart from my chest. He begged me to stay for some time, I almost took back what I said. But in the end I turned away, he left me something though. Unlike my blood father. A watch. I have never taken that watch off.
So, with all these losses in mind. How does one mentally begin to recover? I couldn’t tell you the answer to that. I’m not healed, not at all. I’m a mess holding myself together by the positive, unrealistic belief I’ll find something better. Shortly after saying goodbye to both my fathers for the last time, my siblings and I moved out of Karakura. Our family name was slandered. It was a mix of pity and hatred and teasing for our father’s actions. Don’t ask me what we did while we were away. I don’t really care about it. It was just us trying to unsuccessfully cope and then hide our experiences and feelings behind a mask. It was nice to be away. I forgot it all entirely. But as the saying goes it always comes back to bite you.
I returned to Karakura. I don’t recall why. But I just felt empty in several places. It's funny we return to what hurts us the most. Like a wounded puppy in need of food from its abusive owner. I tried to stay quiet in the hustle and bustle. I believed our family name was strongly hated, though it had been a few years. I would soon come to find out the opposite. A few of my old friends and acquaintances recalled me. I caught up with them, I even got to see my Aunt Rini again. That exchange was one of the most positive I’d had in a very long time. I also came to find out, my father’s beloved meditation place, the monastery, had become active with the staff. Often I visited growing a kind of faith in their religion. Although it wasn’t until I had several deep, heartfelt talks with a maiden, Sakura, that I came to believe its values. She became like a guide to me. And slowly I was able to open up, even if only in little bits.
It came to my attention, maybe people were willing to be there for me. Each moment I began to live in Karakura felt newer. It was no longer a source of dread but of mental revival. It was then I realized it was not the city itself. It was not a place. But those who dwelled in it, that I associate myself with, began to drag me down. At once I had found a great key. To free myself from any more mental torment. Slowly my siblings began to come back to Karakura as well. Although they were far more hesitant. In fact, at my sudden mention of myself being adopted by none other than the maiden who had changed my view, they turned their heads. Once again I was called the one who had abandoned them. Wasn’t it funny, I had been called that more than our mother or father had outwardly. Although I had never once left. For short periods when I needed mental breaks yes. But other than that, no. It hurts. But I’ve learned to deal with it.
In any case, it seemed Karakura, who had once forsaken my family, had accepted it with open arms. When a new branch of my family, still very much unsure how they are related, popped out from the ashes of my father’s disappearance. They built a new face for Hanazono, the very beloved Governor, Eli, lead the charge.
He is now what I refer to as my uncle. When I’m unsure how we’re related I call them aunt or uncle, or if I’m very close to them, like Rini. It's been quiet. There's not a lot happening. I enjoy that very much. No constant horrorizing feelings. I’m drifting. But this time I don’t dislike the raft. I would rather not belong to the sea or the sun. I shall continue to float finding rest stops in islands and storms in the difficulties of life. But there are always other sailors willing to stop and ride the raft with you from time to time, I am grateful for that. The waves will not tear me, for I am a fearless sailor. I will take every challenge from now on with a smile and the peace of mind that the storm will not last forever. I dare say, I will leap headfirst if I know there is land beyond the clouds.
It hurts. But not as bad as it once did.
And though many may not call mine as traject as theirs has been, I pray perhaps someone might listen to this tale and tell me I was enough. For isn’t it only human nature to want to feel you were in the right, or at least not entirely in the wrong. I do not wish to burden you with my woes, so turn away from these pages if you cannot find it within yourself to read self pleas for a better, redone life. And to all those who continue, do not pity me, for that will only make me believe I never should have shared this in the first place. I wish to worry no one, nor do I wish to have false sympathy for my trifles.
It began long ago, of course so long ago I do not remember the details. They’re like strokes of acrylic paint upon a canvas. Not a straight form but getting the picture across, well what I interpret it as at the very least. I was born the identical cloned one of four. The only difference was the first letter of my name and even then, it was always “you four” and never you “Fu.” That was my name, Futsuetsi. And then there was Yutsuetsi and Nutsuetsi and Sutsuetsi. My sisters. They were the first thing I had come to know, in the womb. Second of those I knew were my parents. My father “Lenard” and my loving mother Sutsuyu. And I put loving in so much emphasis, you will understand later as to why. My father’s real name was not Lenard, but for his dignity, if he really has any left, I shall not name it.
We grew up in the world of Keelung, China. The details are faint and blurry now. But on special occasions of stress or fear I might come to recall it. My father was often away. He worked in Japan funny enough. You would have thought perhaps he might work within our own country, but he did not. And so our mother was left to tend to the four of us. She worked as well, it was not until later I realized her quite unhealthy addiction to that. She was quite unfair in some ways. I would like to attribute this to perhaps an uneasy childhood, for I wish to view her as positively as possible although it's hard to do.
She, from my view, never saw us individually. We were “the girls” or “the quads,” in fact I don’t think I can recall once she referred to me as my name unless I was in some sort of trouble. Then my name would be screamed with a strong distaste like backwashed drinking water. We were made to dress the same and never leave one another’s side. I do not mean to villinize my mother either, for my father, though he was a bit better, often did the same sort of thing. And he played favorites. I have no ill will towards any of my sisters, but heaven knows Yutsu was his favorite. This is well attributed to her being the weakest in birth, the youngest, so perhaps she needed that extra loving hand. Though there was not enough of that love to go around in the first place. We lacked it.
Nutsu hated our mother, for she received most of her harsh criticism and punishment. She was the oldest, as was tradition they always took the brunt for the others. Sutsu was attached to our mother’s hip, she never strayed far and looked up to her the most. Perhaps she was the most broken after the incident. And where was I in this family favorite list? Well I’d consider myself a bit of a middle child. I did not rebel as Nutsu did, nor did I love and cherish one parent very closely. Not to say I didn’t love them, I did, I do, but it felt odd. I belonged because I was born into it. But neither parent made me feel cared for, or whatever a parent is supposed to make their child feel. It wasn’t for years and years that I realized this. It was too late by then.
And nor was their relationship very grand, my mother and father’s. They fought often. But this was due in part to my father’s condition, of which Sutsu gained as she grew older. He could not compose himself in moments of anger, it took over and he became a very scary man indeed. Although despite the rumors and many teasing accounts of him “abusing his children” he never once hit any of us. That could not be said of our mother. Of course growing up as one of four made it rather difficult to find myself. I felt just another in the herd. And I did not stray because I didn't know better. It was not until finally my father suggested the idea of us coming to live in the town where he worked, things seemed to take a turn.
I was innocent, I had seen only what my family had chosen to present me. And this town, Karakura, Japan, was unlike anything I’d previously been a part of. Despite our father’s best attempt to keep us hidden from the world, it was not to be. For he had already made a name for our family and I’m positive it was not a good one. Mother did not follow, she visited several occasions but stayed behind in Keelung for her work studies. I did not understand it, why must that be more important? We had enough money, it wasn’t fair. We were all sixteen. Still locked in a single mindset of “the girls.” But our personalities hidden beneath the surface would blossom. Now dear old mother, the last time I saw her, she was tired and bitter towards us deep down. Although she kept the same smile, fake. Nonthewiser we waved goodbye, she claimed she was going to visit our grandmother who had become quite ill.
Months passed without a word, we feared the worst and then that morning came. I had given my father the mail, I noticed one ominous envelope had our address but no return address. It peaked my interest and so I hid behind a corner to listen in as he unpackaged this. It may have been slightly illegal but my curious mind needed to know. I heard a faint painful gruff come from him. The mug swelling with coffee he had drank dropped to the floor with a porcelain break. And I heard, for the first time in years, he began to quietly sob. And I realized later on, that letter had been from my mother. Although it was not handwritten words of sympathy for what she had done. Oh no, it was the cold printed divorce paper settlement her lawyer, no doubt, had typed up with a grin thinking not of the family he would destroy but the money he might receive from my mother severing the connection.
I don’t think my father ever recovered. Nor did any of my siblings and I deep down. It was such a shock, one moment we believed she was dead, perhaps that would have been better to spare us the heartbreak. And the next moment she was alive, unwilling to hold us again. Unwilling to sing us to sleep or hold us tight. Why had life dealt us these cards? I often question myself each and every day. But it cannot be helped and so life goes on.
All I remember from the two months after that fact was a mixture of trying to uplift my fallen siblings along with Nutsu and taking care of my father in his deep state of depression. And one day, he just snapped. He began to seem more distant with us and more close to other adults. There were three I distinctly recall to this moment. The third, Henry Hamilton, who saved us from some college bullies. The second Perscilla Ryder, a highschool art teacher, who had a fondness for children, even those who were not her own. And first, Gael O’Leary, the poetry professor, who I’ll talk about in much depth soon.
He danced around with each, it's hard to know, for he never commented, which overlapped and which he considered to actually be dating. Nevertheless he broke all their hearts I’m sure, in his attempt to find the missing piece my mother left behind, he shattered too many people. The important one, not to say the others were any less important, it is simply one that affected me more than the others, was Gael. I had long held a passion for writing, although not being in college at the time, he allowed me in his classroom to enjoy his lectures. Often giving me poetry tasks to fuel my passion. And I enjoyed the talks we had, for he seemed to understand me well. My father loved him as well, they were dating, atleast to my knowledge. Gael cared deeply for me and even now in recollecting it I feel a sharp pain in my chest. For many have told me to forget him at all. I should not love him, if I do, then I must be a terrible person indeed. If that is the case, suppose I am terrible. But he supported me each step of the way when my father was distant. When I felt alone. And it was especially hard.
My siblings and I had grown into ourselves somewhat. Our hair had been dyed different colors and most of us, in spite of our mother, did not go by anything but nicknames. Sutsu became “Stitch.” Then “Yutsu” had become simply “Yu” and Nutsu was now “Niki.” And I was just “Fu.” And so I am today, I do not know if it was to spite my mother but it was simply easier. With my father jumping from adult to adult, it had begun to make our relationship with him and them. I tried to jump around but stuck to Gael the most strongly since he had been the first. My sisters turned away from each one, I cannot blame them for this.
Before I go any farther, I must mention that I recently was able to recall these memories. A while after we moved to Karakura, my father adopted a child. We shall refer to her as Suzume, though that's not her real name, it's what we called her. She and I were the closest of the siblings. I loved her dearly and wished to protect her since she was younger. But it seemed she had difficulties that only burdened the family. It had begun to tear the family apart in two. I cast her to the side when she was struggling to find herself. She was lost no doubt, causing trouble in hopes to draw someone to her aid. But we cast her out for her overwhelming antics. Although they were cruel and it was not fair of her, I now have come to regret how we handle ourselves. I am very ashamed of that. In any case, we replaced her soon after with our current brother Kyusaku, or Q. He protected us and cared for us far better than Lenard ever could. He was the perfect addition, although, I wish sometimes we could have had both him and Suzume. The six of us. I wonder how she is doing often. I see her from time to time but find it inappropriate to approach her.
Back to Gael. After father had become distant, jumping between Gael and the other two, we discovered this possible scandal. It was horrifying and once Gael had caught wind of it, I could see his eyes were not quite the same. Though this was not the only event that had driven us away from father, there had been several other events. His cruelty towards Niki especially. She had on several occasions done acts of which I will not speak of. But in short, it was unpleasant for me to walk into. I simply brought her to the hospital and prayed for the best. I tried to hold the family together but it seemed nearly impossible. One night, Gael mentioned something to Niki and I. We had grown the closest with him. The prospect of him adopting both of us. I was of course thrilled with the idea, we agreed.
My sisters and I were desperate for stability. Although Stitch and Yu refused to follow. Do not take this as we abandoned them, though they claim that is what we did. I have been at the brunt end of several of these “abandonment” claims. And it hurt me most of all to hear such words from their months. I tried my very best to protect them from our father. But they could not see his faults, they looked at him as if he had been the same dear old dad. He was never that.
It seemed my luck was faulty however. I received a text I believe it was. And then word of mouth from a friend of hers. Niki left us. In the same manner as our mother. At first I was told she died. I was resigned to grief. I could not handle my dear sister passing on. But as if some kind of cruel sick joke. As if my feelings were a play thing, it was found she was not dead, she was alive. She had simply left, unable to handle everything around us. The same thing we were all going through, that I thought we’d overcome together. I never got to say goodbye. I never got to hug her one last time. Just like mom. But I didn’t love mom as much as I loved Niki. I was so close to her. I felt the same way she did. And yet she couldn’t tell me it herself. I thought we were close, but not close enough for her liking I suppose.
I don’t think I’ve processed that either. And I’m going to stop recalling it, for it makes my heart race and a sense of panic come over me in simply retelling it. Now, I was alone. Niki and I had taken this step with Gael and now I was alone in it. I started to do what my sisters feared, I strayed from them. I was a terrible sister in that regard. We were all just children trying to cope with the many losses. How many more could you lose? I thought I’d lost them all. But I was far from correct. I look back on the events, they were far apart, yet all blur together now. They spanned years and it felt like months. Who's to say my account of my life is accurate in any form? Grief and pain warp your perception of events I’ve been told. I was numb. I had no time to process each of these events one after another after another. I don’t ever think I’ll be able to either. As sad as it may be to say.
Who else did I have left? There was Rini, my aunt figure. Who tried her best to make Lenard a better father. She and I did not share blood, but she taught me at least one adult would stick by my side. I had Gael, my now adopted father. And lastly, I had Lenard, my father. You may start to see where this is going. It seems like a pattern of losing people. Life is cruel and biased to its own path. The city despised my father. I felt judged for taking on his last name. And they, those haters, got their chance in the end.
Father, although I never saw it, was accused of being abusive to Gael. I cannot say whether or not these were true, for they tried to hush it around me and my sisters. But my father, who as I said before, had a severe condition of uncontrolled rage, had done something foolish. He had not been medicated for months, in an absurd manner he savagely attacked one of Gael’s friends and threatened Gael not to tell a soul. It also came up, that my father had been abusing Gael physically. And so, his friend Sued my father. Using Gael as her witness. The trial, of which was biased, did not give him a bail. If he was found guilty, he would be locked up for life. Under an unjust charge of attempted murder. But not attempted murder towards Gael’s friend, but Gael himself.
I carried both their last names. Yet I testified for my blood father. I can not say I hated Lenard. I could not see the one who raised me be locked up. Taken from my siblings and I so cruelly and coldly. I had just wanted to make him smile and so I agreed, although terrified to become his witness. In a way, I was testifying for my father against my adoptive father. I had no time to prepare. I was thrown into the spotlight. Before the trial began my father said goodbye to each child. He made Q the man of the house, gave Stitch an item to remember him by, and sobbed hugging Yu tight. I didn’t get to say goodbye.
It was over so quickly. I fumbled on my words and I should have just lied. I am to blame for him being locked up, I tell myself. If I had stopped for one moment and blamed Gael maybe my father would still be here. But what no one understood besides me, was that despite me speaking to save my father, the only one who comforted me was the man who I was testifying against. Gael never lost a caring expression. I was told to be bitter to him, it hurt. I hated that he had brought my dad to court and loved that he still wanted me as his child. This was the single most agonizing feeling I have never experienced. Waiting for the results to be read. And when they did. I heard Gael’s friend scream in a joyous chord. I felt my body go numb, slumping to one side. I could feel behind me the horror of my siblings' stares. And I felt Gael catch me holding me. I was too weak to leave his grasp. I didn’t want to but I knew I had to. I turned away. Watched them take my father away in handcuffs. Never did I get that goodbye or that hug.
Although I tried many times to visit him. The police had simply said in their cold way, if he wanted to kill his lover, he would also kill his own kids. And then they dismissed me. It wasn’t fair. None of this loss was fair. But don’t think it's over. In my experience there is always something yet to come. My siblings in a fiery anger demanded I drop Gael’s name. That I do not associate around him or even perceive him as my father. He was all I had left. The only source of hope. And yet, I had to be loyal to my blood, my siblings. I don’t know which loss was harder. But standing on that pier, confessing I could no longer be his child tore my heart from my chest. He begged me to stay for some time, I almost took back what I said. But in the end I turned away, he left me something though. Unlike my blood father. A watch. I have never taken that watch off.
So, with all these losses in mind. How does one mentally begin to recover? I couldn’t tell you the answer to that. I’m not healed, not at all. I’m a mess holding myself together by the positive, unrealistic belief I’ll find something better. Shortly after saying goodbye to both my fathers for the last time, my siblings and I moved out of Karakura. Our family name was slandered. It was a mix of pity and hatred and teasing for our father’s actions. Don’t ask me what we did while we were away. I don’t really care about it. It was just us trying to unsuccessfully cope and then hide our experiences and feelings behind a mask. It was nice to be away. I forgot it all entirely. But as the saying goes it always comes back to bite you.
I returned to Karakura. I don’t recall why. But I just felt empty in several places. It's funny we return to what hurts us the most. Like a wounded puppy in need of food from its abusive owner. I tried to stay quiet in the hustle and bustle. I believed our family name was strongly hated, though it had been a few years. I would soon come to find out the opposite. A few of my old friends and acquaintances recalled me. I caught up with them, I even got to see my Aunt Rini again. That exchange was one of the most positive I’d had in a very long time. I also came to find out, my father’s beloved meditation place, the monastery, had become active with the staff. Often I visited growing a kind of faith in their religion. Although it wasn’t until I had several deep, heartfelt talks with a maiden, Sakura, that I came to believe its values. She became like a guide to me. And slowly I was able to open up, even if only in little bits.
It came to my attention, maybe people were willing to be there for me. Each moment I began to live in Karakura felt newer. It was no longer a source of dread but of mental revival. It was then I realized it was not the city itself. It was not a place. But those who dwelled in it, that I associate myself with, began to drag me down. At once I had found a great key. To free myself from any more mental torment. Slowly my siblings began to come back to Karakura as well. Although they were far more hesitant. In fact, at my sudden mention of myself being adopted by none other than the maiden who had changed my view, they turned their heads. Once again I was called the one who had abandoned them. Wasn’t it funny, I had been called that more than our mother or father had outwardly. Although I had never once left. For short periods when I needed mental breaks yes. But other than that, no. It hurts. But I’ve learned to deal with it.
In any case, it seemed Karakura, who had once forsaken my family, had accepted it with open arms. When a new branch of my family, still very much unsure how they are related, popped out from the ashes of my father’s disappearance. They built a new face for Hanazono, the very beloved Governor, Eli, lead the charge.
He is now what I refer to as my uncle. When I’m unsure how we’re related I call them aunt or uncle, or if I’m very close to them, like Rini. It's been quiet. There's not a lot happening. I enjoy that very much. No constant horrorizing feelings. I’m drifting. But this time I don’t dislike the raft. I would rather not belong to the sea or the sun. I shall continue to float finding rest stops in islands and storms in the difficulties of life. But there are always other sailors willing to stop and ride the raft with you from time to time, I am grateful for that. The waves will not tear me, for I am a fearless sailor. I will take every challenge from now on with a smile and the peace of mind that the storm will not last forever. I dare say, I will leap headfirst if I know there is land beyond the clouds.
It hurts. But not as bad as it once did.
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