I think what fucked me up the most was letting stuff slide. Not being able to say no to those that I loved and were supposed to love me, to let them mess with my head until it felt like it was too late to back out. To feel like I was so deep in that shit to get the fuck out of it. I take full responsibility for not being able to do those things when I should have, and I will deal with the consequences but this will never happen again.
Prompt: Write anything but include the sentence “tear the fort down”.
Date filled: 4/27/15
By: Elise
You know, my initial reaction to you asking me to do this was to question whether he was a very good man or a very bad man. It seems to me that those are the only men that get written about. I’d like to tell myself he was a good man, but I do not think I’d disagree with someone who says that he was a bad man.
I think the first thing I’d tell you about is what it was like to see his downfall. But I don’t like thinking about that too much. I could begin by telling you about what I think initiated his downfall, but I don’t like thinking about that either. So I think I’ll begin at the beginning.
My very first memory includes him. I think I must have been three or four years old, maybe even five. I asked my mother about it, but she says she can’t remember any of it happening. I think she just wants to forget. Ever since that one winter, when school was out for so long, she doesn’t really like talking about him. I think she’d rather just forget everything about him. But I’m getting sidetracked.
As I said, I must have been three or four years old. I don’t know if we were on break or if we just didn’t go to school that day, but I do remember it was real hot outside. The kind of weather that I would now rejoice for, grab some lemonade, sit on the porch, watch people walk by. But back then, we preferred stormy weather. We liked the gray and the rain and the thunder and the lightning. Guess it added to our escapades.
Anyway. So, it was a nice, warm day, and we were hiding out inside. Actually, we were hiding out in the basement. I have to say, that must sound a bit creepy, but this basement wasn't creepy at all. It was a nice basement, with it’s carpeted floors and painted walls and new furniture and whatever. This was where we would hide out on days like this. This was the only place that was completely cut off from the outside world. This was where we could ignore everything we didn't want to think about. And at first, there wasn’t much we didn’t want to think about, except sunny weather, or the fact that we were always just a little too late to catch the ice cream man. But, cliche as it sounds, as we grew older, the list of things we wanted to ignore grew longer. Parents that keep reminding us that we’re not good enough. The pressures of high school. Friends that aren’t really friends. That little spark we both very obviously felt when our hands accidentally brushed.
But I’m getting sidetracked. Now, considering this is my first memory, it could be all wrong. It could’ve even never have happened. But this is what I remember.
We were down in the basement and he told me to lie down with all my limbs spread out. He told me to keep my eyes closed because he was going to surprise me with something cool. So, there I was, down on the basement carpet, and I kept hearing noises around me, as if he was moving furniture around, as if he was looking for something he lost. I can’t tell you how long this went on but at one point he told me to open my eyes. He had moved the furniture around me and had stretched sheets across them and was now crawling into the fort next to me. This was when he told me to pull my limbs back in so he could lie next to me and so I did.
I can’t tell you how long we were in that fort or what I had said to him that made it fall to pieces, but I do remember that after I had said it he wouldn’t look at me. When I realized he didn't want to look at me, I think I asked him if he was crying. He replied by quickly crawling out of our fort. I followed him out, but by the time I was back in the basement and out of our little world, he was about to reach the top of the stairs. I remember calling out to him and him stopping at the top of the stairs. He didn’t turn around to look at me and after calling out to him again, he said, “Tear the fort down.”
You know, I don’t think he meant it to hurt me or anything. I think he just didn’t want us to get in trouble for making such a mess. But for some reason, I’ve always gone back to this memory. I think this is the reason why I can’t tell you if I think he’s a bad person or a good one. I don’t think either is even possible. People aren’t meant to be black or white, just different shades of gray. People are pieces of art, a grand mixture of different colours and mediums and everyone’s got their own different opinion or interpretation of them. And I think this memory has stayed with me to remind me of that. Of how even if someone builds up a world around you, there’s nothing stopping them from tearing it down.
Never be that annoying family member / friend that knows nothing about cooperation or that money does not magically appear in heaps without having to work hard and make sacrifices. Never ever be that one kid who has no idea that having a good living is difficult to achieve or that group effort would be appreciated in planning or making things work (specially in activities with short notice) because surely you can not just jump in a wagon and expect everyone to be okay to have to push the cart for you. Be the person who knows that other people, even your closest friends, should not be taken for granted as the surely have emotions and baggage as well. Sometimes more than you do.
