Tessie D

It’s been two years since I started this diary. Seven months since she died. I’ve had two birthdays. She would’ve had one. The days have passed into months, now years. The days will continue to pass whether she’s in it or not, and eventually, I’ll be lost, too. 

I was an entirely different person, and I miss that version of myself. I miss the person who was weighed down by the burden of knowing who people really are, what they are capable of. This diary has become my only witness to the betrayal, disappointment, and grief. 

It has been seven months, and I don’t remember much of it any it. I wanted to write, I wanted to get out of bed and drive to the library to write about her. Remember her. But, that meant getting out of bed, getting dressed, eating food. That meant doing more than merely breathing, and I haven’t been able to do more than just that. Time moves foward, whether I memorialize its passing or not. 

Today, I got out of bed and took a shower. I turned on only the hot water and sat at the bottom of the tub, letting the scalding water burn the top of my head, my shoulders, my back, only because I wanted to feel something. By the time I’d drained the hot water heater and the water started running cold, I felt a bit better, so I put on some clothes and brushed my teeth. I couldn’t comb my hair—it’s become so matted that I am afraid I’ll need to cut it off—so I put on one of Daddy’s hats and decided to drive into town. I wasn’t sure where I was going, but I didn’t want to lose the bit of momentum I had. 

That’s how I found myself here. Feeling a moment of hope, an invisible instince for survival. 

I have been thinking though for the past few days that I can’t keep living here. I can’t keep living with Momma and Daddy, living in this town. I can’t forget what people said about me, what they said to me. Their pitying glances, their passive aggressive comments. Reminding me of my shame and disgrace. 

I don’t have a reason to stay here anymore, and I could start over. I could get out of here. I could leave everything behind and move foward. If I am going to escape the past, I’ll have to annihilate it. If nature can restore and rejuvenite, why can’t I? I could recover from these past two years and move foward. I could reclaim my dignity, reclaim myself.

I am thinking of finding a job and moving away from here. Such ideas seemed so absurd just a couple of months ago. But nothing is keeping me here now. All I need is to save a little money to buy a used car and to put a deposit down on a room somewhere. I can work this summer and then get a job, maybe at a school or in an office. I have already gotten an education over the past two years. I don’t have to go too far in case Momma or Daddy need me, but it’s far enough that nobody really knows me. My name might be familiar, but I wouldn’t be. I would remake myself. 

I doubt Momma or Daddy would care since Daddy is back to chain smoking in the dining room and Momma seems to have given up on me.