When it was Good

JR Polkinghorne

28/09/2024

Content warning: themes of family violence

Image description: a black shadow with red eyes is curled around a purple shadow and pink shadow in the shape of a person. There is one bright blue tear drop falling to the right of the image.

When it was good it was as beautiful as a freshly bloomed rose, your hugs were warm, your laughter infectious and your smile lit up my entire world.

When it was bad it was dark, the floor was sharp like eggshells and the walls echoed shouts and screams.

I loved you when it was good, and I feared you when it was bad, but I never hated you. Not your twitching eye, nor your curled lip, for it was never facing me, at least not then.

When it was good we would dress up as pirates, or fairies and you would do my makeup to look like yours. I loved the long black lines drawn on my eyes and the deep red painted on my lips. Together we danced, we sang, we laughed and it was good.

When it was bad I stayed in my room locked the door and tried to disappear into the walls. My TV would blare to block it out and I became withdrawn from the outside world and drifted into my games, my books or my computer. At least in my room you weren’t bad.

When it was good the house was clean, food was cooked and we all sat on the couch curled up with our plates together while we watched TV.

When it was bad I took my plate from the dirty kitchen, stepped over the shit on the floor and sat in my room while I ate alone.

When it was good the four of us were a family.

One day it wasn’t good anymore.

One day the bad seemed to overflow and flood everything.

You were jittery, and the world around me shook with your voice.

The man was sad, and the man was mad.

The boy became a mirror reflecting your image.

And I would stay in my room.

Slowly my world became cluttered and my feet became scarred by eggshells. My walls turned thin, and my TV quiet, as I could no longer block out the noise.

When it was worse you called out for me as though I could stop you or the man.

When it was worse I would see him in the kitchen crying.

When it was worse the lock on my door could no longer keep out the boy with his knife.

When it was worse I fell into a dark pit where I could no longer feel the shells at my feet nor the sting in my heart.

That was when you turned on me.

That was when you twitched your eye and curled your lips in my direction.

That was when I cried, and when I left only for you to call me back and everything was my fault.

When it fell apart I had grown used to the smell of shit.

When it fell apart I was spending more time out than at home.

When it fell apart we lost our house.

When it fell apart you lost your friends.

When it fell apart I abandoned you.

I left you alone to as you shattered into a million pieces.

I left you behind as I moved on with my life and tried to grow as a person.

I told myself it wasn’t my problem and yet the guilt that built inside me was breaking me down and crushing my heart.

I told myself I couldn’t help and yet I tried every time you asked.

I told myself I couldn’t save you but that’s all I ever wanted to do.

When you said sorry I told you it was okay.

When you said sorry I pretended it never mattered.

When you said sorry it broke through my walls and grasped my heart, squeezing out any resistance I had left.

You realised it was bad and you realised what went wrong but by now it was too late and everything had already been set in stone.

You cried when I told you I was depressed.

You cried when you thought about my childhood.

I never stopped loving you.

Not when you were mean, and not when you had lost yourself.

And now that the cracks of your past are starting to show through and break down your very foundations I remember the times when it was good, and I remember the times when it was bad and I miss them both because you were there, and one day you might not be anymore.

Even then, and even now, forevermore I love you, my dearest mother.

***

Jasmyne is a writer who graduated from Federation University with a Bachelor of Arts. She majored in creative writing where she met the other founders of Paper Road. She is a queer woman who grew up all around rural Victoria and comes from a low socio-economic background. Her passions lie in creative writing and art, and has had work appear in Tulpa Magazine. She hopes to encourage and guide new creatives through her role at Paper Road.

Jasmyne writes and sometimes publishes work under the pen name JR Polkinghorne.