Missing Child Syndrom/ The Stranger

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
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Submitted: November 02, 2015

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Submitted: November 02, 2015

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I am a stranger. Somewhere along the way something went wrong. Either I forgot who I was or the person I was just got up and walked away, leaving behind this stranger. This lonely numb stranger, now mind you sometimes when you get abandoned a part of you dies. A part of you says this is too much and you somehow create a new person with the broken fragments of your old self. Thus becomes the birth of the stranger. A hollow being you wish would just leave so the old you will come back. It’s sort of like being haunted. You look in the mirror at someone that’s just not you. And deep down it makes you sad, makes you sad because you’ve gotten to the point where you can’t even recognise yourself. You do things that you wouldn’t do.  The stranger does them in your body. The stranger is impulsive and self destructive.  You learn to hate the stranger. You walk into the dark corners of your mind searching for a glimpse of the old you. It’s almost like a missing child. It’s the lack of closure. The parents of missing children search and if no corpse is found they hold the obsessive hope that their child is out there waiting to be found. The lack of closure, no body, means no death, and no death means that person is still there somewhere. That’s what the stranger causes. You search for yourself like a lost child. You’re convinced you’re somewhere out there. Missing child syndrome is all I can compare it to.  I’m convinced I’m somewhere out there. I’m just really lost, or maybe just not wanting to be found. I feel abandoned by my own self. I look at this stranger, this stranger with my eyes, my hands, but not my mind, not my heart. This stranger only resembles me; a closer look reveals those aren’t my eyes. My grey eyes smiled and brightened up the room, the stranger’s eyes are haunted and cold. Glazed over by too many days of drug abuse and drinking. My hands long and delicate filled with untamed and over flowing talent. But the stranger with my hands has made them worn, burned my finger tips with cigarettes and chewed my nails with nervous tendencies.  I don’t like this stranger. This stranger likes the company of an older man. A lonely man, only five years older, but the stranger is not an adult. But the stranger is the driver. The lost child of my old self is too lost to object. Stranger stays at the older man’s house drinking too much liquor and looking to this man to cure her loneliness. But this man is even more lost then she is. He’s an alcoholic that’s terrified to be alone, so he invites the stranger over to ease his troubled heart.  He lies with the stranger, kisses my mouth, and keeps my body comfortable. My old self wouldn’t have wanted his company; my old self would go looking for someone who isn’t so lost, someone that’s not so far gone. But I suppose misery loves company. Stranger is miserable, stranger makes my friends sad, stranger gets mad at everyone and stranger pushes people away. This man’s not all bad. But then again that’s stranger talking. This man even in a drunken state won’t use the stranger, this man won’t take advantage. He will keep stranger company, he’ll hold stranger, he’ll kiss stranger. But he will not take advantage. He will sleep with stranger, but not make love to her. He will lie beside stranger and hold her all night, but he will not do more. He knows stranger is too young, twenty one to strangers sixteen. He will throw stranger against the wall and kiss her, scratch her back, grab her neck like he would do if he was to sleep with her. But he won’t go that far. He’s good that way he may be addicted to being drunk but he won’t be addicted to using and taking advantage of stranger.  But what lead to the creation of the stranger?  What drove my old self to turn and run the other way?  A mother a mother to lost to love her own daughter, a mother that’s pained by her daughter’s childhood. What her daughter had to endure under her roof. But a mother to gone to know what to do. A mother pained by her own past, to pained to deal with it. She can’t love her little girl it’s too hard, so she pushes her away, kicks her out at twelve. So the daughter leaves, the daughter builds a home with her father, a father that makes sure to give her a good life to make up for the lost years and the damaged upbringing. But the mother can’t bear seeing her baby girl doing better than her so she makes things hard for four years. The daughter keeps her head up and stops talking to the mother, stops talking for four years. Then starts receiving messages apology messages, the mother asks for another chance, begs for the daughter to come back.  Like a fish with bait the daughter risks everything’s she worked so hard for to give this women another chance. That’s when the stranger was created. The daughter only lasted a month with her mother. The mother only can live in the past, only talks about the past. But the past hurt the daughter. The daughter was running from the past and blames the mother. The mother brought her family into the daughter’s life. Her brother, let her brother live in the home with the daughter his niece.  But she left her baby in the hands of a mad man. He would wait till the mother left to use the daughter body. Take what wasn’t fucking his. How could the mother not know, the whole family knew the grandmother walked in. But of course it’s the little girls fault and not the older mans.  The whole family watched with sick pleasure watching this little girl lose her childhood lose whatever she could have been. After twelve the little girl wasn’t burdened but a bad decision a risk to have some kind of a relationship with her mother screwed everything up. Brought all the hurt back, went back to only have her mothers tell her “you’re not my kid, don’t call me, I don’t want you”. That’s when the stranger started to take over. But the daughter in those four years had found a boyfriend. She finally learnt to trust a boy for the first time. She put her last bits of hope into him. She wasted over a year learning to love someone, learning to let someone love her.  This is when stranger comes in. After having her heart broken all over again by her mother having all the stitches in her heart ripped open leaving a world full of hurt and pain her last pieces were in this boy. But a month after her mother not wanting her, the boy decides he doesn’t want her either. He tells her he doesn’t want her and replaces her. That when she falls apart. She looks to drugs to ease her soul, drugs make her distracted, drinking makes her happy, and cigarettes ease the shaky hands. She falls in love with all three hells and loses herself. It was too much in too little time, so stranger slipped in and made a home. Stranger turns to the older man as medication for her loneliness.  But at least this older man won’t take advantage like her uncle did. She’s grateful for the older man. The stranger shakes too much, the kids at school look at stranger. Some look sad some believe stranger has gone crazy. But that’s because they’re looking for the old me and not realizing she’s gone. This stranger listens to the same song on repeat, can only fall asleep under the influence of some kind of pain killer and this stranger won’t eat because food doesn’t ease the pain like alcohol does. My old self stays in strangers mind picks at her brain. Sends memories of someone stranger doesn’t know. The stranger is haunted by a stranger. My old self wouldn’t cry, my old self didn’t listen to the same sad song on repeat because that’s the only song that says all she’s feelings. My old self wasn’t mad, wasn’t sad, and wasn’t pitied.  But stranger won’t leave me. I live with stranger every day, I hate stranger.


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