I'll Take it to My Grave

It's funny to think what your tombstone might say. Personally, I don't want to be buried. I've always thought about what happens while your body rots underground. Think about the bugs. Think about the smells. Think about the time it will take to decompose and then your bones will just sit there in the casket. What's the point?  Just burn my body in a hot fire and call it done. Like a Jedi.

Regardless, if I had a tombstone, what would it say? Who decides what sounds good? Is it honest? Is it accurate? Is it for me or for those who live on? Would it be about my job...my family...my friends...my passions...my temper? What I put on everything now is "Super Teacher, Wonder Mom, Flute Extraordinaire, and All Around Dynamite Gal." 

Is that even accurate though? Super Teacher...not hardly, especially this semester. Wonder Mom...nope...more like, Lucky Her Kids Aren't Dead Mom. Flute Extraordinaire...ha...ha...ha. And the last...I'm a gal, that's about all.

Maybe it should say, "Weird ass bitch who went crazy." There. That's it.

But then there's all the things you have in your brain when you die...what happens to those words, thoughts, regrets, ideas, plans, actions not yet in motion? Think of all the things people just take to their graves, whether they wanted to do so or not. Secrets...are they really secrets?

See, I've been remembering the past a lot lately. All the words, lies, hands touching me...

I wish I could find that STUPID Facebook message you sent me a few years ago. Like, after all these years, finally admitting that you ABUSED ME for YEARS would change something. I guess if it helped you move on with your life, then fine. Move on. I told you that I had. 

But you can't erase that. Not really. You can just bury it down deep and hope that nothing ever tries to dig it back up. Like grave robbers...you hope that Granny's grave isn't tampered with, right?

I'm not really sure what was worse, though. Was it all the notes where you wrote all of the unspeakable things you wanted to do? All the fantasies you would make up? Was it all the times you told me I was trash and all the horrible threats you made when I tried to say no or tried to make it stop? Was it all the times you told me "Shhhh...." and violated me? Was it when you fooled my friends? Was it when I couldn't focus on my studies and let my grades drop? Was it the fights you got into when someone else tried to follow in your footsteps because I was "easy" and "hot"? Was it when you did everything you could to ruin me when I finally had enough? Was it the times you'd come to school showing me what you'd done to yourself the night before because I told you I was done? Was it all the things you told others about me? Was it the years I spent trying to recover? In the end, it's still my fault...I let it happen...

But, alas, no amount of pills, no amount of blood dripping from my arms...none of it really made that go away. I will always hate you. ALWAYS.

......................is this one of the things I get to take to my grave? My hatred? My fear for my daughters of falling for someone like you at an innocent and awkward age? The fantasies I had of killing you? Of killing myself so I didn't have to think about it anymore?

FUCK YOU! That's what I'm taking to my grave.