Writing prompt from http://partwild.wordpress.com
My creator sent me a note the other day asking me to do a silly little writing exercise thing. I can’t imagine why she wants it. All I have to do is write about things I have hidden…But I couldn’t think of more than 4 items in all the time I was given! But, to humor her, here it is. I still can’t imagine why she’d want something like this.
Make a list of things you’ve hidden. Illicit objects, treasures, presents, opinions, desires, flaws. Go for quantity over quality. Don’t worry if it’s interesting or even true. 6 minutes.
- My best friend’s favorite necklace (I was mad at her)
- My mom’s shoes (I didn’t want her to go out with another guy)
- The letter I got from the first boy I kissed (I think I still have it somewhere)
- The flask my dad used to use
Tomorrow I am supposed to write about one of them. But I can write about all of them in less than 5 minutes apiece, I’m sure! So I’m going to do it now–don’t tell [scratched out]. I mean, M. That isn’t her real name. People are so strange. Why hide who you really are? It screws everything up later when they find out who you actually are. I should know. I’ve dated…But I should probably not say anything.
Hey, there’s an item #5.
5. The number of boys I’ve dated.
…Why do I hide that?
Well, see, the people I know don’t seem to approve very much of the boys I date–either what kinds of boys they are or how many there are. I don’t get it. I’ve never done anything super stupid with them and they’ve never hurt me. None of them are alcoholics or crackheads. Sure, some of them liked to party, but that isn’t the same thing as being an alcoholic. I would know. My dad was one.
The truth is, despite how I hate being controlled, I hate being in conflict with the only steadfast people in my life even more so. My stupid dad left my mom and I to fend for ourselves when I was 7. I’ve never forgiven him. My mom can’t hold down a job, so I’ve spent a lot of my life finding random jobs here and there to do. I was a mechanic for a while! Most people don’t believe that; they think I’m too into looking pretty. Which isn’t the true me at all. Makeup and hair is just another way to express creativity. Just like theater.
I love theater. I love my theater teacher and his wife. They’ve taken a lot of care of me. I owe my life to them, pretty much. They take me in when things are bad at home. See, Mom has had lots of boyfriends. And most of them have been jerks. One of them even…But I shouldn’t talk about that.
6. That time one of my mom’s boyfriends made moves on ME.
He didn’t get very far. I hit him right where it hurts. With a golf club. (I always keep a golf club by my bed in case of burglars.) He never came around again. My mom was pretty furious with me over that.
My mom could never see outside her self-addicted world enough to understand me.
Anyway, what was I talking about? Hidden things. I guess I haven’t even talked about the things on my list yet. Well, sort of. I hid my dad’s flask once when I was really little, too little to understand that he could just go out and buy another one. I was trying to stop him from drinking.
And my mom’s shoes, that was when I was little, too. Too little to understand that hiding her shoes wouldn’t stop her from going out with stupid guys.
My best friend’s favorite necklace–I hid that from her when we had a fight when we were in 4th grade. I’m not very proud of that. She came crying to me after I hid it, telling me it was her grandmother’s locket, and could I help her look for it? I felt really bad, and at first I just went up to my bedroom where I had hidden it to get it and bring it back to her. But it was gone. I couldn’t find it anywhere… And I came back down and she was still crying, and I had to tell her. I told her everything–I had hidden it from her, and I was very sorry about it now, but I had lost it.
The worst part was, she didn’t get angry. She only looked even more hurt than before. And she cried worse. I tried to touch her, but she moved away, then moved back, as if she didn’t want me to see that she’d moved away. “Rosalind,” she said finally. She looked at me with those tear-streaked eyes and said quietly, “Rosalind, I don’t think we can be friends anymore.” And that was that. She walked away, just like that.
It was probably the worst day of my life.
I tell myself I am angry about it now, but I’m not just angry. I wasn’t angry that day she left me. I was something a lot worse. I only got angry later, to protect myself.
I guess there is one thing I hide from everybody. Only now M. is going to know and she is going to tell the other girls at some point…She told me so. 😦 I’m not crazy about that, but I trust her, and I guess that’s what this was supposed to be about.
So, the one thing I hide from anybody (please don’t tell):
Oh…I haven’t written about the last thing on the list yet. But that will have to wait. I’ve done as much as I can do tonight.
Good night, M.