locked up daimon

sporting business men in the financial heart of amsterdam - one moment

sporting moment for business men in the financial heart of Amsterdam – one moment gone forever

Are you there?
I know you’re in there.

Why did you lock the door? Why did you lock me out?
Please let me in. What did I do?

My grandfather used to read westerns in the bath, and they would slide off his chest as he drifted off. My grandma would wake him, plucking the soggy paper masses from the water and tossing them into the wastebasket. 

I feel like I can hear you breathing.
I feel like you have your ear against the door.
Open up.

My mother got pregnant with me when she was seventeen. She worked in a pharmacy, but was so shy that she wouldn’t acknowledge her growing baby bump. The head pharmacist finally acknowledged my existence when she was seven months along. 

Just unlock the door. We can talk. Please.

I remember the first time I got in trouble at school. Mrs. Bonnet just told me to push my chair in, but she sounded irritated, liked she’d already asked me countless times. She was my favorite teacher. She was so beautiful. I went home in tears that day.

I can see your shadow shifting through the crack of the door.
I know you’re in there.
Just come out. I will listen. I promise. I won’t say a word.

When I was sixteen, I decided I wanted to meet my biological father. I called everyone in the phone book with my father’s last name, one of the most common surnames in the States. I finally reached his sister, and my heart was pounding. I met him two days later. He picked me up off my feet as he hugged me, saying so true-blue: “I love you, Jami.”

If you come out, I will never ignore you again.
I will always listen to you.
I’m begging you. Please come out.

I was in the financial district of Amsterdam earlier today. I was looking out my office window watching businessmen play some ball game. It was set up as a temporary art instillation of a 70-piece exhibition. I wondered to myself what they wore outside the office. 

I’m just going to keep talking until you come out.
You can’t hole yourself up forever, after all.

 

 

 

 

 

One comment

  1. A very intriguing post Jami 😀 ❤

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: