| iving the Past I came back. I don't know why I'm surprised. I don't have many friends in Port Charles that would let me crash at their place. That's a lie. I don't have any friends in Port Charles, except for Nikolas, the man who caused me to leave in the first place. When Tammy told me there weren't any rooms at Kelly's, I briefly considered going to my mom's or Marcus'. The key word is briefly. Going to my mother's would only result in a lecture on how I should have stayed at Columbia. She wouldn't care that I was hurting, she would only care that I had somehow screwed up my life again. It doesn't seem to matter to her that I don't want to be a lawyer. I don't think I could listen to how disappointed she is in me tonight. I admit that I do go into Nikolas room often. I don't think I can stop simply because he told me to stay out of his room. I don't go in there because I want to spy on Nikolas. I go in there to make sure he is still there. I need to reassure myself that he hasn't left, like Marcus or my dad. I can still remember the day Marcus left. The screams of my mother and the agony in her voice still ring through my head. I can still see Marcus' face as he told me goodbye. I remember everything about that day so clearly, even the smell of the burnt bacon we didn't have for supper. I can still see myself in the mirror, playing Beethoven's 5th Symphony on the piano, hiding in a haven of music. Finding solace in the rhythm of the music, the movement always constant, always flowing. I don't even remember my dad. I don't know if he was ever there for me. My mother doesn't talk about him, so I don't talk about him. I think about him though. I wonder what he looked like and whether he acted like me. I'd like to know what happened between my mother and my father. I don't have the courage to ask Marcus what happened. I'd like to know if I should hate him for abandoning me or if he had no choice but to leave. I want to know why I wasn't enough for him to stay, why he couldn't love me enough to stay. I lie down on my bed, placing the cucumber slices over my eyes, willing sleep to come and take me away from everything, from the reality of my life. I'm thankful I ran into Carly today. Somebody needed to remind me not to cry over men. What I wouldn't give to have a girlfriend again, somebody I could share my feelings and heartache. Somebody I could tell how happy I was that Nikolas came to find me after I stormed out of the cottage. Somebody I could tell how angry I was that he once again decided to defend everybody except me. Maybe if I had somebody else in my life, I would be able to stand up to the people I care about, not afraid that they may no longer love me. Knowing that somebody out there is proud because of who I am. Maybe I wouldn't have to feel like I was allowing Nikolas to walk over me with his designer shoes. Maybe I could break free of Nikolas and his little friends and spend time with people who always treat me with respect. The truth is, I don't want to wake up one day and see that Nikolas is gone. I don't want to have my childhood lived over again. I don't know if my heart can take people leaving me again. I fear that day, when my mother dies or Marcus disappears from my life again or when Nikolas is so consumed in anger and hate that he no longer cares for me. I know that if that happens to me again, the walls around me will become too thick and too strong for anybody to ever breakthrough and I'll become a walking corpse, denying any feelings and becoming immune to all pain and love that the world gives me. So as I wait for that day, I'll try to hold onto those around me, those I care for, even if it means ignoring the anger I feel for them at times. Even if it means that I apologize time and time again for things I didn't do wrong. I'll hide my fears and insecurities from others and instead I'm going to hide behind a mask of sarcam and wit. I'll do anything I can to hold onto my life, to prevent the person inside of me that I hate, to come alive. I can hear Beethoven's 5th symphony amongst the noise in my head. I can see the swirl of pained faces in the replay of images going through my mind. My nostrils fill with the smell of burnt bacon. I clutch my teddy bear to my chest, willing sleep to come in order to stop myself from reliving the past, that may become the future if I'm not careful. Oh Mr. Sandman, where are you when I need you? Charisma |