Story

Childhood
BY: Kayte Goodbody

There is blackness; all around. Echoing silence is filling up the weary room. Like a heartbeat, there is a tensing up of the room at regular intervals; coming from the girl rocking herself on the bed. You wouldn’t notice her at first because she melds with the shuddering mood of the room, enveloped in darkness as she is. Shuddering come with the pains and memories of her past. Whimpering “no” over and over again as her memories continue to assault her. One by one; blow by blow. Observing her you can see her shudder as each memory hits.

She’s curled up in a ball and clutches herself tighter as an early memory hits; as if she’s trying to hold on to some last piece of her sanity. In her head, she’s about four again. Maybe five; this little girl is getting hit for the first time. She’s standing outside her mother’s doorway, fighting with her. It’s actually a slightly amusing sight; very small child arguing with and adult two times her size and seven times her age. It makes you want to laugh a little but that desire soon dies when you see the mother’s face transform into the expression of a terrifying monster just before she hits her four year old daughter.

She cuts off the memory but another one overtakes her. She is reliving a time when she was six. It is a repeat of the even when she was four except for a few details. Amazingly, again she goes into shock. Even after two years of this continuing to happen, when her mother hits her, she still loses the ability to breathe or move; standing paralyzed, looking at the scary monster that was once her mommy. She stands there with her face stinging while monster mommy slams the door in her face. The last thing little Kaitlyn sees before staring at the blankness of the door was her mother’s smug, self-satisfied face. The little girl finally regains the function of her lungs and begins to hyperventilate, sobs choking off every desperate breath she takes. She’s breathing so fast yet she has no air. Breathing so fast with her sobs of betrayal, desperately, she’s trying to grasp at nothing. She forces herself to stop. And she goes into her room. And she climbs the ladder to her bed on the top bunk. She curls up into a little shaking ball in the corner and wonders what she has done to be so hated by her mother and father. She wonders why she deserves this red mark now taking up temporary residence on her tiny face, leaving a permanent mark upon her soul. And then that six year old child resolves never to cry again, never again will she give those creatures the satisfaction of knowing they hurt her so deep. Never again will she allow someone to control her. She straightens up, stops shaking, and becomes strong. She will not let those creatures see they hurt her. She will not cry for a mother who is gloating in her lair behind closed doors, not giving a moment’s worry to this loving child she had broken. Not realizing that at that moment, her six year old was becoming an adult.

The girl’s memories end for a moment and she realizes she is whimpering. All those memories and emotions she keeps in the safe of her dark soul. Yet there are times she cannot prevent the barrage of pain from tearing her down, filling up her aching soul.

She remembers a time only a few months ago. She goes back in her memory and again is that fourteen year old girl. The walls are ringing with the sounds of her pain and his cruelty; shuddering with her wishes for it to be over. She won’t give up. She refuses to cry. She won’t give in to this creature who wants to hurt her. She blocks it out and thinks of other things because it’s too much. She can’t take this constant barrage of his hateful verbal darts. She makes her mind blank and waits for it to be over. Eventually she tunes back in to him stoning her with his resentment. She shoots back “If you hate me so much, why don’t I just kill myself?” She knows there will be consequences but she’s hurting and doesn’t care at the moment. He’s already cranky from work and drinking so she might as well actually do something to be punished for. And she means it. She is suicidal. She is alone in a vast world of emptiness. She yells but no one is listening. She bleeds but no one sees. She’s dead inside but no one knows. But this is what he wanted. This is what he needed. He grabs her suicidal cry like a lifeline and disappears. She goes into her room and closes the door and turns off the light and watches the blinky light on her stereo; listening to the fuzz on the station. She’s sitting there; vaguely aware of him fuming around the house and talking on the phone and ranting about her, mostly just withdrawn into her own blank mind. Her mind is her private world no one can enter. It is her solace and safe place where she can think her own thoughts privately. It is her sanctuary. Her mind is blank like the fuzz on the radio. Distantly thinking of knives and her wrists and how they could come together and make such an amazing relief to her battered soul. She’s empty and alone like an empty beehive with an abusive boyfriend and hateful family. This young girl is meant for something good but only given pain. She’s a unique puzzle piece without a place anywhere.
Suddenly the door is open and the light is bright and she’s blinking, trying to adjust her eyes, wondering what Mr. TwoYearOldTemperTantrum wants now. She is told to get a jacket and get in the car, leave her purse. She’ll have no need for it. She’s told they are going for a drive. Assuming it’s just the normal scare tactic, she gets dressed; full of apprehension anyway. She assumes she will be taken to sit outside of juvvi and be told she better not step out of line or she could call that building that resembled an angry monster in the night her new home. Then she can go home and go to bed and then on to school the next day; pretending she’s okay while eating nothing and going to the bathroom soon after the consumption of any object to hurl it out of her body; the way she wishes she can hurl the ugliness, hatred, and pain out of her soul and life forever.
She’s paying attention in the distance of her mind to what’s happening to her and where her defenseless self is going. She never knows if she may have to walk home or find a place to stay. Her subconscious perks nudges her paranoia when it looks like she is on the way to school. Suddenly the car stops and she sees buildings and a vast deadness of the barren forsaken wasteland. It screams hopelessness and lifeless. The creature orders her in and commands her to sit while she’s bored and impatient, playing with her chain heart bracelet, apprehensively twisting it around and around and then the other way. Over the years she has erased her identity as Kaitlyn and become Kayte. Kayte sits there silently wishing the world dead; for them to all just burst into fire and amuse her with the running flames. Running and screaming and wiping the world clear of evil. The flames will leave all the animals because animals are pure love and selflessness. But the bitch talking to her father is connected to something unknown. Unknown means fear but the Kayte is strong and refuses to show any fear. The only fear she possesses is the turmoil raging around inside her.
Soon Kayte is alone; left with her rage and inner fear in the same room as the creature. She sits there, bored and also frightened, shaking and making slashing marks with the sharp part of the heart on her wrist, twisting the chain around her wrist, being very slightly comforted by this thing she can understand and hold onto. And the idea that she could do this same motion with a much sharper object and create a very satisfying blood pool. Somehow it comforts her in a sick, twisted way. Another hateful being appears and requests Kayte to go with her. Only Kayte knows she has no choice and the security guard eyeing her supports this conclusion. She answers the ridiculous questions and is taken to her cage-like room, denying her any freedom. Knowing she’s alone, she holds onto her confidence; clutching at it like a small child’s security blanket, holding it like the heart on the bracelet on her wrist; determining to not be broken, because that is what they want.

On Edge

Wow...so, someone actually cares about me. He's there every time I turn around or I'm upset or even just at the end of the day when I really miss him. This sounds weird, I know, but it's hard for me. I'm constantly tensed up; waiting for the thing I do wrong or the time he's being moody or...Anything. Waiting for him to disappear and hoping so hard he doesn't. This is so new to me. And he's not just some guy pretending to care who's really an ass. He's such a good person and I just....have this feeling that I can trust him. I know, maybe it's stupid to trust him; since every other friend I've had has left me at some point, hurt me, or stabbed me in the back. The last guy like this.....it turned out bad. Really bad. And it still hurts. I almost killed myself over it. He's not Paul, I know. But it still scares me. There's something about it that makes me so alert for it to happen again. I'm just....I wonder WHY. Why does he care about me. Why is he so concerned about my safety and how I feel? What makes me so special to deserve it? Why do I suddenly deserve a friend who...Idk....who won't leave me? It doesn't make sense. I don't deserve it. And any second now it's gonna be taken away. I'm gonna mess up. Do something wrong. Say the wrong thing. And he's gonna be gone. I don't understand why this is so different....I can count on him. He's sturdy and there. Like a pillar. I care about him.

Tranquility of the Woods

What do you do when everything feels so WRONG? When the world is so complicated and full of choices and every one is the wrong one. When every thought in your mind is a turn in the bend in the maze of your mind and you're so so hopelessly lost. When all you want to do is go somewhere where nothing is so complicated anymore and you don't have to constantly worry, plan, consider the consequences of every action you take.

You go to the woods. Get away from it all and relax. Swim in the lake or pond or stream, sit in the woods with your dog and watch the squirrels and listen to the birds and smell the trees. Read by the fire in the fireplace in your cabin at night. Just...Be. Exist. And not worry about so many things. Work during the day at a place close enough to walk to. Have a car only to keep by in case you want to go to the book store or grocery store or need to go to the doctor's. And work only enough to pay for the books you read and the gas for your car and have a little extra money just in case.

That's the way to live. Without stress or worries or complications in life.

How Do You Decide?

What do yuo do when the person you love is no longerthe same? When you stop loving them but they continue loving you? When you still care and they say they don't want you to go. When you still care about them but as a friend. When you're not sure but there's just so much stuff clouding your judgement. When you really don't know what you want or feel because there's so much stuff gone on. When you don't know if it's good for either of you for you to staiy together. To have to make the decision to stay and always be unhappy and never know if you'll find the right on or to leave and break their heart and hurt yourself and feel like you're a piece of shit. To feel as if you're using them even though you're not when they take care of you. How do you decide? Between what's right and wrong, between it all? How do you decide to break someone's heart like that?

The Past Unspoken

If you feel like digging through my past, here it is. Open and true. Have fun. http://kaytegoodbody.blogspot.com/

My Page of Many Pictures and Other Things

http://s96.photobucket.com/albums/l166/itzjustme1992/

Why Is the World Never Right?

I'm running. I'm scared. I'm alone. You're not here. My world is shaking. I'm trembling, crying, screaming. I don't know what's going on. All I know is I want it to stop. I want to know. Because if I know, at least I can expect something, prepare myself for what's ahead. I'm running, I'm screaming, I'm scared. And all I know is I need you here. But you're so far, far away. Why is the world determined to keep you away from me? I need you; your strength, your love, your protection. I need you next to me. I want so badly for you to be here, lying next to me. I need to curl up and not be afraid. But you ignore me and I don't know if you care. I know you do but....I don't see it. I'm alone in a world determined to hurt me, kill me, no matter what I do. I'm scared. Because even though we've fixed us, all I see is how distant we've become. I want what we had. And I don't think we can ever have that again. All those lies, all that pain, the games and vindictiveness.....I don't think we can come back from that. You're not trying as usual and I'm just...alone in my efforts. You seem to think these things only apply to me. Well they don't. You never try unless you're gonna lose me. And then when you get me back you throw me away. Why is it you only want what you can't have? Why are you never happy? Because you're not. I know you're not. I want us to be happy. But you distance yourself. You stay away and don't try. You hurt me and I wonder if there's even a point in going on. You don't want the burden of taking care of me. I know it. I can see it in what you do, the tone of your voice, the way you look. You want to get rid of this burden of me but you don't want to be alone. I'm not a fucking package or a bag you can just throw around. I have a heart and you're always breaking it. You want me to go away but you're afraid you'll miss me. I can see it in your eyes. You don't love me anymore. You used to be...so different. But you've changed. Something's happened to you while I've grown to love you and need you more....you've grown away. You don't want me anymore.

These Things About the World

I do not hope; therefore I cannot be let down. There is only up from there.Pessimists are the happiest people on earth. They are only surprised for the good because they expect the bad.I do not judge. I only perceive. And I perceive you with the material which you give me.

Really, Parents. THINK!

Why is the world so messed up? So miserable, so determined to share it's misery with others. So intent on hurting. Why can't there ever be anything purely good? Even with my lessening of depression because of Anthony and me, I still feel the sour bite of depression sucking at my soul. I know now that counseling won't work. It's a chemical thing that's fucked up in my brain cuz my mom was on pills when she was pregnant with me and nursing me. Not exactly something I can talk my way out of. I need the pills to fix it but I can't get them and my parents won't. So I'm pretty much helpless and very likely to die sometime before I turn 18. And even if I make it to then, I won't be able to afford the insurance and pills and all that shit. So I'm screwed and set up to die and It's not even my fault. Just more than a little fucked up. Why can't our parents THINK before they do things to fuck us up? My boyfriend's mom fucked up her 3 kids by being around her smoker husband when she was pregnant and putting them as babies around that shit and drinking and having coffee when she was pregnant and nursing with them. It's not fair what they do to us that we can't control. It fucks us up and now I can't really have alcohol because in addition to my father's alcoholic Irish family, I'm also fucked because my loving mommy decided to mess me up by taking pills I didn't need and exposing me to them as a baby and when I was in the womb. So I'm a depressed alcoholic. Goddamn I can't even walk down the wine isle at Albertsons without flipping out. I've gotten better but still. And depression makes me wanna drink. How fucked is that? I mean, Honestly. Thanks so much for loving me enough to fuck my entire life mommy and daddy. Damn I mean it's not really his fault for being Irish, but she didn't have to fuck me up. And yet they won't get me pills I actually need to fix what they did to me. I kinda need them to keep me from fucking killing myself. Every moment I feel the depression in the corner of my mind, my body, my emotions. It never goes away. And I can thank them for it but for nothing else. I know for sure that if I live long enough to have kids, I'm gonna be going off my antidepressants for my pregnancy and when I'm nursing them. I want them to have the best chances possible and have the happiness I never could have.

The Beginning

This is my blog. My new start. My story, picking up at a new place. Think what you will, but this is me. Unaltered. Unedited. Just ME. Judge me, hate me, love me, miss me. But in all, I do not lie, I will not lie, everything on here is pure, honest, true. Raw emotions, thoughts, Me.