I Quit

“I quit! Before you, I will lay down the failure of all of this.” She raises her eyes to the top of the mountain across the lake. Stars begin to fade as the sky becomes bruised with the first hints of dawn. In her outstretched hands, she holds a leather bound notebook. Mist rises lazily from the lake below her. Her toes feel the coolness of moisture on the wooden dock planks.

It’s all here, scrawled upon the pages in her minimalist cursive–everything she could remember that had ever gone wrong in her life. No longer would she carry it with her. She’d promised herself, by the time dawn fully bled into the sky, it would be over. For a moment, she closed her eyes, brought the notebook to her breast. Now, she must begin. Hands trembling, a slight breeze gripping the hem of her skirt, her fingers find a page. With the half moon as a lantern, she can scarcely see the shapes of the letters. It doesn’t matter. Her heart knows every word. She closes the book, clutches it to her breast again. Closing her eyes, she speaks the memories she will give away, never to haunt her again:

“I was different. And they noticed. I wasn’t the right color–not the beautiful skin tone like them, they said. I couldn’t change that. But why would I want to? I didn’t celebrate the correct holidays–there was no Santa Claus or Easter Bunny at my house. But I realized things were more interesting that way, whether I believed what my parents did or not. I didn’t wear the clothes in fashion–they laughed when I wore pants my grandmother knitted. But I was unique and comfortable. I was too quiet and my face made odd expressions as I contemplated the world I saw inside–they laughed and mocked me. But they could not do what I could do, obsessing over words as they spilled furiously, filling pages others saw as only flyleaves. All of this only made me want to be even more different from them.

“I was different. And they noticed. I didn’t listen. Always questioned, experimented. And it made them angry. Angry that I was possessed by a will that transformed me into something so different from their intentions for me as their child. And so day-after-day, they tried to beat that will out of me, the belt whistling through the air–welts on my thighs and ass cheeks–past the tirade of words only meant to defeat me. What a failure I was, they told me, over and over. And I stood there, numb, eventually…and more determined with their growing anger at my absence of response, that I would be ever more like me…and ever less like them.

“I was different. And they noticed. Small and alone. No one to protect me. I tried to choose one of them to have sex with, so maybe I would be protected from the rest…only, I guess I chose the wrong one…maybe there was no right one….Something was slipped in my drink one night anyway. Awoke alone…bruised…alone with seven men, sleeping like a pack of wolves around me, my skirt spotted with stains of blood…disgusted….And I knew, I was stronger than any of them.

“I was different. And they noticed. I had no idea how to conduct myself in the real world. They told me what to say to the customers, told me how I was expected to interact with co-workers. Perpetuated negativity…to hide myself behind smiles and lies…to try to make customers purchase more than they came in for, just because it was good for the company. They dressed me like everyone else, told me what I could or couldn’t do with my hair and my skin–all for the sake of a paycheck that was never enough to justify the sacrifice….Until I felt the culmination of days crushing my soul, crushing my dreams–crushing like pinching a nerve until I cried out in pain as the burning and numbness rushed over my being like an avalanche burying me, reminding me that I must heal my soul at all costs…yet knowing how painful it would be as I came back to life.”

She opens her eyes. Before her, the sky vibrates in a fiery magenta. She crouches at the edge of the dock, the water below emitting sparks beneath the dissipating mist. The notebook clutched to her breast feels almost too familiar. Momentarily, she struggles to release it. As it tumbles, splashes, sinks into the waters below, she rises, stretching her arms toward the mountain. Finally, she feels the promise of a new day she’d so long believed she was not worthy of embracing. Everything is different now. She sighs, thinking of him.

“I was different. And you noticed. You saw how crumpled I was inside; you reached your hand to me anyway. I sent you pictures with no smile; you said you liked me. You touched my scars and told me I was beautiful. Holding your hand, I felt at peace. And I found the strength to let everything else go. Everyone who tried to change me is powerless. Powerless to erase me from myself or keep me from you. I refuse to allow anyone to change my life to their needs or wants. I will always be me. Now and forever. The past will not determine my fate.

“So here it is. I give you all their failed attempts. This will haunt me no longer, take no more of my days in rumination over others’ actions against me. I will speak of it no more. No excuses, because I finally realize that none of it was ever able to change me. No more reliving the bad from the past or any of the bad yet to come. I will live my life in a new way, a carefree way, immersed in myself and in moments with you in everything I know myself to be and in creating today and tomorrow as me and with you, because I quit.”