– I don’t ever wanna get married.
Waking up every morning and seeing mama’s face being painted with high resonant slaps from dad’s palms hurt my soul.
He’d wrap his hands around her neck in pursuit to take her life ; heaven knows he beat the hell out of her.
– My dad doesn’t eat stale food and my dad is that clean, uncluttered, tidy, ship-shape and Bristol fashion type of man , so mother has to quit her job, ditch her life and take up resident jobs like; blow jobs, effort-pivot bed strokes, cooking and cleaning.
– Every night he’d touch her in many ways-sexually until he incessantly took her breathe away. That same breathe he’d take away the next morning by beating her even when she did everything right.
Mother was only a mannequin that wore scars instead of scarfs and bruises instead of blouses.
– I as that little child I was, would just peep through both hinges of my door and watched how mama begged to be freed. All I saw when I looked into her eyes were wounds in her soul.
Mother would fall on her knees and pray as if Jesus should take dad’s place. She would weep and scream to God to take her pains or her life… she always cried.
– When mama said she was leaving, all dad said was
“Bye felicia”. Man gave two shits less that she was
leaving. After all it was just a random nobody that
nobody was sad to see go. But mother never really
left- and it was all because of her kids.
– My mother did not marry a MAN, she married
VIOLENCE. She was being spun as though she were
a fidget spinner. She would be at his service all day
and at night still have him disrupt her cervix.
The love was missing , listen, she lost her confidence
and eloquence, in consequence of hiding the
evidence of his actions, yet he had no penitence.
– Her body was a map; each line was a footpath, a first
class road, a way to a city.
Each city was a memory, of love and pain
Her love was a rapper, she was his only audience.
His punchlines were love concealed pains. Her body,
her ego, her love, her spirit and soul were all a bunch
of messy scars.
– I don’t ever wanna get married!
Sometimes I wondered why she was still around.
But if only there was pain without hurt, if only she could go back in time without regret.
The person she fell in love with had changed, his personality had become more deranged. She let him have the upper hand and let him dictate her sick rate and how often she was allowed to get sick of him.
– Eveything changed me. It played on my mind and in my sleep and I just couldn’t be. My family was teased, people gossiped because daddy’s wedding ring had become a boxing ring.
– She lost her sense of fashion because her style was about long sleeves, dark glasses and thick make up.
Long nights of talks full of laughter were now nights full of disaster. -and she still did not give up.
– Father was a cocaine addict and when she complained, he slapped her and yelled (I don’t care what you think!).
So another painted cheek and a split lip all because she tried stopping him from another sniff. It was too late when she realised that her blue skies had turned to grey and her memories had faded away.
– Mother got pregnant yet did all the chores but my dad would still forcefully sleep with her. They struggled one night as she fell off the seventh stair. And with her vision blur, she toppled over, over , over and over until her life was over…. SHE DIED.
– It was so painful to think that the last time was the last time that I saw my mother..
And to all of you who said, “it’s ok” , “he’d change”, “things would get better”, my mother is now 6feet underground and she can’t even hear me cry. She can’t feel how much I miss her , she can’t see how bad her kids are growing..
– I was raped severally , I went wayward . My brother is now a junky and I a nymphomaniac.. because there’s nobody to talk to and no mother to walk to.
My dad, my dad is in prison for drugs…
if only he thought of the beauty of resilience, he wouldn’t suffer the consequences of this grotesque aftermath. Sorry is now nothing, but just a sorry word..
– Trust me there were times before the wars, there were times before the scars , there were times when he was nothing less than sweet and lovely, there were times when she didn’t notice the fault in her star, there were times…… when she was his world, his home.
– When your vows are supposed to plough the love between you, why would you somehow allow yourself to be so sour?…
I DON’T EVER WANNA GET MARRIED, to a man like my dad….
Falling in love with a batter is like living in a plastic bag. It may seem like you have enough air to breath inside the puff, but you know you’d surely die.
So take a moment and remind yourself, that marriage is no rush. It’s not something you could cheaply buy yourself, you can’t do it all by yourself, so take time to find yourself , define him and refine yourself. The most successful marriages and relation- ships don’t thrive on love alone, but true friendship. By true friendship I mean, re- spect, communication, understanding, love and togetherness.
– This piece was inspired by a close friend’s family.
Link to the Italian translation