I try to occupy myself from the tension in my chest, trying to figure out which is a worst taste on my tongue, the metallic tang from the cut lip clenched between my teeth, or the bittersweetness of this moment.

I dreamed this day up over and over in my head, romanticizing the moment I could finally escape this house, and now that its here I have to force myself to let in bigger breaths to stop the hyperventilating I know is creeping up.

I try to remind myself of all the horrors I faced here, all the reasons I listed over the years in my head, waiting impatiently for this day to come, but my mind freezes; completely void and blank of all my countless lists.

I trap my lip even tighter then I knew possible between my teeth, willing the blurriness in my eyes to blink away.

I turn away from the now empty room, once filled with my childhood everything, and face the open waiting doorway. I stare angrily at the baseboard along the door, showcasing my growing adolescence, hating I have to leave what feels like girlhood behind.

Before I realize, my hand is tracing up the wall, along my developing height, mind wandering to all the memories I can finally leave behind, but can no longer bring myself too.

I snatch my hand away as I get to the last pencil mark, as if I have been burned, and I squeeze my eyes tighter than ever before.

I knew it was going to be hard.

Obviously leaving behind everything Ive ever known wasn’t going to be. I just didn’t expect to feel so unsure.

I anticipate the sound of breaking glass, as I slam the golden frame down on the desk

The guilt creeps back up into my throat as I stare at the ceiling, willing her haunting eyes to leave my mind and shatter with her picture

I make my mind wander to anything but her, the clock on my desk counting down the time until I finally lay my sight on you again, or the building across the street, ever so romanesque, something I never noticed before you learned to love it.

I have failed endlessly to convince myself that the right decision is to banish you, to finally give my everything to her, a woman with whom I share a love so normal I can’t help but compare to bland

Your anything but normal, a trait that made me fall in love with you, but makes me want to hate you more and more as the never ending consequences are revealed

If you were normal I wouldn’t be drowning in heartbreak as I reluctantly wish you don’t come, as to protect you from the overwhelming feeling of grief I have created about someone not even yet gone

If you were normal I wouldn’t be sitting here hating myself for counting the seconds until I see your familiar face again even when I know it will be the last.

If only I could pray to every god ever thought up, that you could one day be my normal

I inhale as deeply as i can, trying to imprint as much as possible in my mind, so as not to forget a single detail.

I am still in disbelief it’s finally here.

For years i have told myself ‘just a little longer’, waiting impatiently for this day to come and now that it’s here I can’t help but blink rapidly to stop the overcoming grief from spilling out of my eyes.

It was never supposed to really come. I never meant it. I never really wanted to leave, It’s just what i was supposed to want. ‘Anywhere but here’.

The alarm on my watch begins to ring, signalling an overwhelming sense of discomfort and heartbreak. It’s time to leave.

My hand unwillingly moves to grab the handle of my suitcase and my vision clouds unbearably.

This is really it. I know in my soul, that it’s time to go.

As a woman I was always faced with the burden of a million things; often contradictions of each other

I was told to be confident, because that was what men found attractive but humble as not to bruise a man’s ego.

I was told to be pretty, because that’s where my worth lied, but not to care too much about my appearance as that made me self absorbed, and men did not like women who weren’t giving.

I was told to be smart because men didn’t like there women dumb, but I couldn’t outshine men with my intelligence because my place as a women was inferior.

So I did as I was conditioned. I was coy and shyly self assured. I kept my appearance effortless but desired.

The only struggle I suffered was my intellect. As a child i was commemorated for my brain, but as I developed and blossomed it turned to contempt, as I instead turned to an enemy, something feared with disgust.

So again I learned the game and hid my astute. I played the dumb to benefit, and did what I had to.

I was told I was the smartest kind of stupid, as if it was a badge of honour to be the kind of woman a man loved.

I spent a lifetime running

not from a monster under my bed, but the man supposed to save me from them

desperately avoiding letting myself become him

and ignoring the pain and tears with rum

forcing me to succumb to my genetic path full of alcohol and drugs

a familial remedy of the torturous heirloom; a cycle never broken or fixed

so as my mother before me and hers before her

i hide my face blindly

door shut tightly might the monsters come