to the one who watched things fall apart

There were so many things that you had to overcome.

You had everything you needed, and you were too meek to ask for extra. You were clothed warmly, you had food in the pantry, you had a roof over your head. There was no need to ask for more. For this reason, you thought your emotional turmoils were nothing but the ramblings of a spoiled kid who needed to get over herself. You thought that maybe, after the first few times of hitting rock bottom, you were ready to get back up again -- and for a while, you did.

For a while.

You were fifteen when it happened. You decided to move back to your aunt's house for the sake of your education (bad move, by the way) and go back to the school you loved so much. You felt that there were more opportunities there and you thought you could set aside your differences with your aunt.

One day, the pipe underneath the kitchen counter began to leak and damaged the floors with the water. You had to move out for a moment while people came to fix it. You, your aunt, your mother and little cousin shared a hotel room nearby, and for a week or two, things were okay.

Then...that morning happened.

I know you don't like to remember it. It's a dead leaf that's blown away with the memories you wish to forget. I don't like to remember it either, but believe it or not, you learned something from that morning. That morning you stood there in the bathroom and listened to your aunt and mother swear at each other, yelling with the indignation belonging to a lion. You washed your face and pretended nothing was going on while they slandered each other. You quietly said, "Yes, Mom" as your mother spat out that she was going to Jamaica and would never live with her sister again.

"You don't have to stand for this. The courts can help you stay here with me," your aunt said.

"Don't talk to her! Alyssa, let's go," your mother bit back sternly, dragging you out into the cold and rain without a jacket.

That morning, you watched things fall apart.

Your aunt drove to the high school that same day. You were called out of your morning math class to see her waiting in the office. She asked you what your mother was planning, and you told her with reluctance -- your mother didn't want you to say anything about it. She called your mother hostile and angry and violent. You didn't want to talk about it anymore; you were still shaken up and in shock about what had occurred hours earlier.

"Can I just go to class?" you asked, looking away from her.

"Fine. Go, because I'm trying to help you and you don't want it. Go."

Help you? She was trying to help you?

Just hours ago she was fighting with your mother. She used the word hostile to describe her. You had nothing to do with it -- you stood there and watched. You were tired and afraid. And she had the nerve to come to your school and interrupt your education to tell you how bad your mother was and that she was trying to help you?

It was the most bullshit thing you'd ever heard.

You cried on your way back to class, and sat there with your mouth shut and your eyes as red as the lowest line of the sunset.

You learned so much from that day. You learned that you were better off on your own without your aunt and your mother. While your aunt was somewhat reliable, she was emotionally unwelcoming towards you; and your mother, while loving and willing to sacrifice without holding it against you, was impulsive and got angry easily.

You talked to your father after that, and he arranged something for you. His trusted friend worked at a high school and she was willing to house you for a year -- she even had a daughter who would be a freshman. You could finally breathe a sigh of relief. It was going to get better, you were sure of it now.

You left that hotel and didn't see your aunt again for a while. You jumped with your mother from hotel to hotel, until your mother found room and board with a co-worker near her job an hour away from school. You woke up at 5 in the morning to get on a train, get off, get back on and get off once again to walk to school. I don't know how you did it, but you did.

Eleventh grade left a lot of scars on you. You ended up skipping days of school because you didn't have the emotional or physical stability to go. Your grades suffered due to your troubles, and your life took a downhill slope to what seemed like the bottom.

You aren't at the bottom anymore. I don't know where you are, but it isn't the bottom.

You aren't a robot. You aren't a computer. You aren't Superman. And that's okay.

You're a young girl who has raging hormones, stressful days at school, a long and tiring commute and a limited amount of energy. And that's okay.

You are doing your best. And that's okay.

Take good care of yourself! The fight is almost over! You will be victorious in the end!

the one who lives now