A story about my life, failures, successes and twisted past that will forever haunt me.
|Time For Me To Fly
The words resounded in my mind, “You said we’d work it out, you said that you had no doubt…” My feet hit the pavement and I felt free for the moment, “I’m tired of holding on to a feeling I know is gone, I do believe that I’ve had enough.” I ran faster as the wind stung my face and my legs felt a bit tired, still burning from my last run. “I’ve had enough of the falseness of a worn out relation, enough of the jealousy and the intoleration. Oh, I make you laugh and you make me cry… I believe it’s time for me to fly.” REO Speedwagon hit the very notes I had been carrying around with me for years. Listening to the song I remember as an adolescent, I realized just how much they relate to my world, my life and just how much, at this moment, they are so very true.
“Let me go!” I struggled to loosen myself from my father’s grip on my arm. “Why are you being so difficult?” he asked. “I don’t want to listen to your incescant fighting anymore. I need to get out of here!” “Let her go, she’ll be fine.” My mother’s words couldn’t have been farther from the truth. I flung myself out the door, running as fast as my quivering legs could carry me. I ran and ran, up the street, down the sidewalk to my boyfriend’s house. Breathing heavily, I rang the doorbell only to be confronted by his father. “Aurora! Where did you come from?” My boyfriend’s family and home had been my only refuge from the tragedies I couldn’t escape at my own house. “I ran all the way over here and need to see Ben,” I gasped frantically. “Why didn’t you just use the phone,” he queried with a chuckle. Ben’s father had always teased me, especially when he knew I was becoming a bit overly emotional. It was his attempt at diffusing the situation. “Ben! Someone is here to see you!”
Ben came swaggering around a corner from down the hall. As his brown eyes caught up with mine, I had to catch my breath (of course, I HAD been running). “Ben!” I quickly walked over to him and flung my arms around his neck. He gave me a quick peck on the lips. His dad was still lingering, waiting in slight amusement to find out the reason for my outburst. Ben took my hand and led me to his bedroom.
We were only 17 years young, and Ben’s parents afforded us more trust that they probably should have. Although, we did have the occasional make-out session behind a slightly closed door, we never did anything more than that. “So what’s going on?” Ben’s eyes conveyed a concern I so desperately craved. “My parents were fighting again. I was in my room and I just couldn’t take it anymore. I ran past them trying to leave without them noticing, but my dad grabbed my arm and they began questioning me about my eating habits. When he finally let go, I couldn’t get over here fast enough.” I had been anorexic for the past couple of months. I hadn’t been professionally diagnosed yet, but I refused to eat more than an apple and a Diet Coke during lunch. I barely ate anything else throughout the rest of the day. I had dropped weight and now was at a slight 105 lbs. for my 5’4” frame. I exercised like crazy, freaking out anytime I gained an ounce. “I am sorry to hear that,” Ben replied as he took me into his arms. All the emotions came flooding back. I couldn’t hold the tears at bay any longer.