When I was in elementary school I watched my father walk out the door and never come back.
(Of course, he comes back, but my home is not his home anymore). Him and my mom were
getting a divorce.  I was in the first grade and learning a new dance choreographed by Ms. Foxworth.
Dancing was and still is my escape. When I’m dancing I feel free, nothing else matters. I can
escape from my harsh reality, just for a few minutes.
It was the middle of the night, around 12am, all I know is I was supposed to be in bed. The cartoons were playing on my tv, with the volume low. I was tucked in, a cheek full of kisses from my mommy, and my bear trapped in my embrace.
I always hold on tight to the things that mean a lot to me, just because I fear they will leave, and I’ll be all alone again. 
***

You know when you’re younger and one of your family members do something wrong (a crime) they tell you “they’re going away for a while”.
Once a month my mom and I go visit my great uncle who is “away”. When I was younger I used to sleep the whole ride, now that I’m older and full of curiosity so I stay awake and watch the trees run by and wonder invades my mind. I wonder why I feel so alone, yet I’m surrounded by
people at all time.  As we drive I notice all the anti-birth control signs each one harsher than the
next.  I can’t help but think “it’s their body, their choice”. 
I’ve once had a man invade my body. At the time he was just a boy and I was just a little girl. I
was ten, just approaching womanhood. My body had his attention. I should’ve known no guy has
the right to get on top of me and touch my lady parts without my permission. It made me so happy when he finally went “away”. Every time I saw him, that night replayed in my head and I
can hear myself whispering No.
I used to walk around with my head down because I was insecure.
I used to think I was the only girl who’s been touched unwantedly. Apparently; “Approximately
1 in 5 girls and 1 in 13 of boys will be sexually abused before their 18th birthday”. I’m not 18 yet.

***

My mom doesn’t believe in depression. She believes in prayer. Whenever I tell her “mom, I’m seriously depressed and I need help” she tells me to go pray.
So, I do.
I get down on both knees close my eyes and talk to my father up above. I ask him to open her eyes, so she can see that I’m begging her for help. I believe that she too was depressed.  When my father left, I think she cried herself to sleep, not just over him but because of me.
My mom is my best friend.  I know she will never leave my side. I have her back and she has mine. I like to think we grew up together, we both began to find ourselves at the same time.
I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been for her to restart her life. But I am so proud of where she’s at now. Her eyes are bright and full of hope and she always have a big smile on her face.

***

Over the past few years, I’ve been trying to forgive everybody who’d done me wrong. I want them to get down on their knees and beg me for forgiveness. Starting with the man who was the boy that stripped me of my innocence, then my father. The biggest reasons why my heart isn’t whole and may never be.
I like to think of myself as a dirty dandelion.
Despite all that has happened to me, I am still pure, I do have some innocence left. I’m trying to hold on to it forever. Some things are meant to be kept. Like promises, Dad.

***

Every year I lose a friend. I tell them about all my insecurities and phobias. I start with the phobia of being alone just, so they know what they’re getting into.
I stand alone in a mirror but am I really alone? There’s always my reflection staring back at me and listening to whatever I have to say.

***

My Mom and Dad were talking. She was trying to hold back her tears, but it wasn’t working.
They didn’t see me.
I hid behind the wall and listened closely to the words that were coming from their mouths.
My Dad turned around and walked out the door, he was careful not to let it slam. I watched my mom standalone looking at the door, tears slowly fell down her cheeks.
She locked the door, putting the bottom lock on and a chair behind the door.
I tipped toed back to bed and pretended I was asleep.

***

From that day on I promised myself I would never hurt my mom, or allow her to get hurt again.
Maybe that’s why I’m not happy.
I’m the reason I’m all alone. Happiness doesn’t combine with loneliness.
I don’t hold on tight enough, that’s why everybody leaves me.