Featured Writer Of The Week: Beth Hallows

Hello readers,
I mentioned before that I wanted to start featuring writers on my blog, and that I knew of a lot of talented individuals that weren’t ready to put their writing out there, but had something to say.
This week a friend of mine came to me, iPad in hand and asked if her piece could be submitted.
It’s hard to be vulnerable with your writing, and your art, so I was honoured that she even considered my blog as a safe place for her to be published for the first time.
Beth Hallows is her “MyCompositionNotebook” alias, and this will be the first of many efforts from her.

* * *

I remember when I hated you.

It always came with one too many drinks.

You always thought it was okay to tell me off, complain about things that weren’t my fault.

A little mess, a little instability, and suddenly I were to blame. But I never understood why; and you knew that.

Every time you yelled at me, you saw I was a little too much like you. I fought back; I wasn’t one for standing around and I knew that you hated that.

So I would scream at you, curse you and blame you for my insanity, like I had something to prove to you, even though you had made your mind up about who I was.

After it all I would run away and cry fat, hot tears, asking myself why you had to be this way and what I had done wrong. But weaklings don’t cry, so those tears were wiped up faster than they fell.

And the next day, it was like nothing had happened; conversing over dinner about school and life, evading the entire thing.

I remember when I hated you.

It was when you broke your promises.

That’s when you broke my heart.

You always promised us big plans, big trips, big dreams. And I always hoped.

But you would crush those dreams with the press of your thumb on a lazy Sunday afternoon, not even realizing how much you had just taken away.

I would tell myself that one day it would happen; one day the plans would stay.

But they never did. You’re lucky my heart could survive it.

I always knew to nod and agree with your lavish ideas of a trip far away, and seeing this

wonderful place, that wonderful place. They were never true, and it was easier to say “Sure, sounds great” than to dream that it would happen and let it crush me all over.

Did you realize we never left this house to go anywhere?

I remember when I hated you.

Only this time it wasn’t just you; it was her too. Now you had an accomplice… a partner in crime.

It was when you fought about money. It was when you fought about love.

It was when the fighting lasted into the early hours of the morning and I was always afraid the neighbours would worry and tell you both to stop.

Sometimes I hoped that they would… just to make the yelling go away. It was so hard to sleep like that. I wonder if you know what that is like.

I remember when I hated you because you couldn’t try. You didn’t try to make it better, and you cried when it all fell apart.

I hated that you were the one who got to be upset because you felt that your world was crashing down. But mine had been blown to pieces years ago.

You begged for forgiveness, and she begged for acceptance; praying that what she had just done was right. I just begged that I would remember these moments and make sure I never lived them again.

You never showed up. You were never there. But somehow I was meant to be okay with that.

But I remember when you hated me.

It was always because I was too much like her. Someone you thought you loved; someone you
thought you could change.

And I turned out to be her copy and something you wished I wouldn’t be.

So every time you looked at me, you saw her. You saw your worst parts staring you in the face.

Maybe you never hated me at all. Maybe this is just how you are.

But I don’t hate you anymore.

Because that would mean I would have to care about all of this. About everything.

And I don’t think I care anymore.

Possibly because there is nothing here to hate you for: just a lifetime of emptiness, no connection and nothing to feel.

And I know that you are trying, but I’m a little worried that it might be too late. This is where we are now and this is where we will stay.

I am trying too, but I’m not really sure because all I can think about are the things I’ve hated you for.

But I am tired. So, so tired of this.

I wonder what we could be, what we could have been, if there is more to this than what is
between us.

But I guess we’ll never know because I just remember it all too well.

* * *

If you’re ever interested in sending me work to feature on MyCompositionNotebook don’t hesitate to email me

(Anonymous/Alias writers are encouraged!)


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