I remember the day my humans found me. It was a crisp October morning in New Orleans. I eagerly awaited visitors as I sat inside the quaint boutique I resided in. I was perched high upon a shelf, partially hidden behind the larger and more desirable companions but that didn’t matter, she still found me. I remember the moment she spotted me. She began to jump for joy as she handed me to her male companion who was waiting close by. She was going on about how I was the perfect addition for their recent surprise. The woman just found out she was pregnant a few days prior (or so I gathered based on their conversation) and she thought I was the perfect first gift . A simple dusty rose colored mouse with not much to me besides my long skinny limbs and sewn on attributes. None the less, they chose me.

I remember being worried because of my small stature accommodated by a large price tag. I was sure once my price was revealed they would no longer want me and leave me behind, but I was wrong. The woman looked up at her husband with gleaming eyes to which he completed the transaction without hesitation. From that moment on, I was theirs and I had a job to do.

The woman placed me inside her bag that laid across the front of her chest. She configured me in a way where my head and arms were able to hang out making it easy for me to view this unseen world in front of me. I appreciated that. I remained there for the entirety of their trip here in New Orleans. I felt safe. I felt at home.

After three days of sightseeing I was brought to another place I’ve never been. I overheard the woman call it an airport. She tucked me tightly inside of her bag and told me that we were going “home”. I wasn’t quite sure where “home” was but it didn’t matter, I still couldn’t believe they chose me.

Turns out home is in California. My home.

The next nine months were a blur. I sat on top a bookshelf that hung from the wall. It was inside a room I could tell was decorated for a child. I got daily visits from the both of them, assuring me that my new best friend was arriving soon.

I remember one night the woman began frantically packing her bag telling her husband that they had to go. Right before they left the woman walked into the room and grabbed me from the shelf I called home those last nine months. She placed me at the top of the bag, tucking me in just before she sealed it. I think it was time to meet my best friend.

I quietly waited until it was my time. In the early hours of 5 AM I saw her for the first time. She held onto me instantly and from that moment forward I was hers.

Being in the right place at the right time is such a sentiment in my story. If that woman hadn’t found out she was pregnant prior to leaving for her trip to New Orleans then she wouldn’t have wondered in that children’s boutique that day. If she had never came in then I may have still remained at the top of that shelf tucked away awaiting the day someone may possibly see me and bring me home. I’m glad it was them. I’m glad I was in the right place at the right time.

Intoxication

Believe me when I say I'm drunk off of you. I could live on shots of your thoughts and cocktails of your soul. You keep me mesmerized and give me a sense of freedom. I feel out of my element. I've lost complete control of myself, I've fallen into you. My words are slurred and my thoughts go unprocessed. I'm intoxicated off of you, but I like it..

You never asked but I’m okay. I often find myself full of words, words I’d never find the chance to say

You never asked but I’m alive. Through the pain and suffering, I’ve found a way to survive

You never asked but I’m aware. I’ve danced with my shortcomings enough times to even care

You never asked but I’m growing. His love has changed me, consuming me without knowing

You never asked but I’m relieved. Without pain I’d never know love, when love is exactly what I need

I’ll never forget that day. I somehow knew from the moment I woke up that everything was going to change. This crippling heaviness began to flood my entire body.

I remember being at work. Somehow going through the motions and forcing a smile to those I engaged with. The only moments from that day that seem to hold any relevance to me now were those last few moments before my life changed.

Though my mind seemed naive of what was to come, my body was telling me otherwise. I began to feel more and more ill as the time passed and before I knew it, it was time to go “home”.

The word “home” is such a foreign concept to me now. I think we have this common misconception that the place you call home is somehow a permanent part of you, but it’s not. That place I once called “home” was no longer mine. You were no longer mine.

I walked through the door and found you sitting at the edge of our bed. Your bed. Our bed… I’ll never forget the look upon your face as you began to speak. I knew what was coming.

We were no where near perfect. I knew that. I knew how detrimental you were to my entire being, but I still fought for you. I stood there as you berated and belittled me convincing myself that I still wanted you. That I somehow needed you. I didn’t realize it then, but the person I once was died that day but the pain I felt would encompass me for years to come. Seven to be exact.

Pain is strange in that way. You heal, recover, repeat and yet you still feel this trauma inside you. You begin to wonder if there is something wrong with you or if you are only human and getting your heart quite literally broken calls for a partial lifetime of misery.

I wonder if you too felt pain. If you too were changed by the events of that day. If you too hold this heaviness inside of you. If even though you’ve moved on and found happiness if you still find yourself effected by that day. I say I wonder, but I already know the answer.

I now know that I never loved you. Manipulation is not love. Verbal and emotional abuse are not love. Ironically my worst day turned out to be the best day of my life. It was the day you set me free.