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Ridiculously self- pressured, hopelessly (and unsuccessfully) in love for three years, and scared to write the things that matter. And that’s me on a good day . Good luck.

Message from Writer

“Here’s some advice- stay alive.” Haymitch Abernathy
“I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if ... But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.”- Marilyn Monroe
“A girl should be two things: who and what she wants.”- Coco Chanel

My Lily

February 22, 2021


    Lily. When I held my sweet, innocent child up in the air for the first time, I just knew that she was a Lily. I work in the field, day after day, and all I see are plants. I hate them, those tiny green things that always get stuck in my hair, nose, and mouth. Calling for me to pick them, weed them, plant them. Then, when I do, I hear their nasally, wicked laughter, taunting me with my burnt neck, sore hands, and tired feet, shouting that they’ll be waiting for me tomorrow. All they do is take. They take my time, my health, my pride. And then they laugh when I can’t do anything about it. Lilies aren’t like that. Their only purpose is to provide joy in the world, making people happy with their beauty. That’s what I want my Lily to do. Spread joy.
    They didn’t think I could handle it, those midwives with their bright blue outfits and fake, insincere smiles. They think they’re so much better than me, with their fancy college degrees and perfectly formed bodies. Well, I’ve got news for them. They may see me as a failure, a high school dropout who they can tease and make fun of behind my back. But I’ve got something that they don’t have. Love. I may have to work long, hard hours in the field just to put food on the table, with John only offering insults and threats in return, but I don’t care. ‘Cause my baby, Lily, she’s worth it. When I see her smile, everything’s right in the world.
    I don’t have much besides Lily. No friends, no pets, not even a loving husband. I mean, my John, he married me, but not really me. He married the idea of me. A woman. All his friends were getting hitched, and it was just the thing to do. So on a hot Summer night, John just bent down on one knee and proposed. Me, being the dreamy, head-in-the-clouds girl I was, said yes without a second thought. We eloped that night. 
I sometimes wonder what would happen if I hadn’t. 
    The very next day we dropped out of high school together and moved upstate to a tiny farm his uncle owned, out in the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t happily ever after. John always had big dreams, and when we moved in he said it was “just the beginning”, a starting block before he could get his career as an actor started. Hollywood. The big screen. All John wanted to do was make a name for himself out there, in the world of movie stars and set designers. So night after night, John would stay up late while I managed the farm, reading lines and fine tuning his acting skills. But John’s big break never came. Then he became bitter and began to take it out on me. He began to shout at me, saying I was useless, that I wasn’t trying hard enough. That’s when he hit me.
    It happened nearly five years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday. We were just eating supper together, our usual meal of rice and barley soup, when John went ballistic. He stood up and pushed over the table, dumping the soup bowls, cups, and utensils onto the floor with a crash. Then he began screaming. At me, at the world, at himself, at everything.
    “I HATE YOU! I DESERVE TO BE A STAR, BUT WHERE AM I?! OUT IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE IN THIS DECREPIT OLD SHACK WITH YOU, YOU MISERABLE OLD WITCH!” John screamed, his face turning red with fury. I tried to calm him down, putting my hand on his shoulder, and murmuring some comforting words, but the moment I touched him, he jerked away. I tried to touch him again, and he whipped his hand back and hit me. I fell to the floor, hitting my head on a corner of the overturned table. The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that I was bleeding from a fracture in my head. The second thing I realized was that John was gone, to the nearest bar I assumed. I cleaned up the mess, and then turned into bed.
    The next morning, John was on the other side of the bed, snoring loudly just like always. And even though I smelt the alcohol on his breath when he sat down for breakfast, and I’m sure he saw the huge scratch where I had cut myself, neither one of us said a thing about it. And I thought it was over, just a mistake. A bad turn in our relationship. I mean, everyone has them, right? It was no big deal. But the next night, the same thing happened. It happened again and again, and again. John yelled and cursed at me, and then started to hit me. I considered running away. I really did. But where was I supposed to go? I was a woman with no credentials, no one to turn to, and not a penny to call my own. Things were bad enough when the worst thing that could possibly happen happened.
    My parents came to visit. They showed up at the front door with no previous warning. That would have been bad enough, but my parents are rich, and I don’t think they’ll understand why I traded in a field for a mansion. Before I married John, I lived in a large marble house where I had anything I could ever want. Except love. My parents may have known their way around money, but they sure didn’t know how to raise a child. I was given anything I wanted and more, except for one thing. Their attention. Daddy always had a big meeting in town with a hotshot bank associate, and mama was a social butterfly who didn’t have time for a child. From the moment I was born, my parents were disappointed. Dad wanted a son to take on the family business, and in those days a girl just couldn’t do that. So instead, I was just shipped off to the nearest boarding school where I met John. John was the only one who would listen to me then. He had the gentlest laugh and always knew how to make me smile. I guess he’s changed now.
    Anyways, I didn’t see my parents again for years after eloping with John. I assumed that they had scorned me, kicked me out of the family tree so I wouldn’t scar the honorable name of the family, and all that. So it was a complete mystery to me why they were standing here, on our front step. I was about to let them in, when John rudely pushed me out of the way and HUGGED my parents.
    “Mr. and Mrs. Larson, we’ve been anxiously awaiting your arrival!” John exclaimed with a big smile, opening the door wide open. Once he led them inside and showed them their rooms, I started to get the gist of what was going on here. It turns out I’m having a baby. I didn’t even know! John suspected that this would happen, and invited my parents so they could see the child (that’s you Lily!). At least, that’s what I had thought. After I gave birth, six months and several very awkward conversations with my parents (most of which were my mom asking when the baby was coming, and my dad sighing) later. It’s sort of sad that now that I finally have their attention, I don’t want it anymore.
    Anyways, this brings us to the beginning of this story. Me holding you in my arms for the first time. It was the only happy moment in my entire life, Lily. That’s why I want to tell you that what I am about to do is for you. So (when you’re ready) I can join you in a better place. A place up in the heavens. I never really believed in God, but I guess now is as good a time to start as any. I just want you to know that I love you Lily, even though your father took you away, and is a selfish, horrible man. He may have swindled my parents into giving him money to help support you, but none of that matters now. He’ll get his just reward in this life, or the next. Now it’s time to say goodbye. Goodbye, Lily. You’re the only part of my life worth remembering.


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  • February 22, 2021 - 7:38pm (Now Viewing)

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1 Comment
  • BriRiley

    Wow, that's all I have to say, Wow. :) (And that you are very talented!)

    7 months ago