My name is Aubrey. I’m running around this story called life amidst a long painful existence of loneliness and neglect. Situations with men always seem to leave me flailing; I’ve never been able to settle down, it’s been years since I’ve found love, and even when I feel I might be falling… some whim of disappointment turns my outlook to the ground.
The male gender has always lied, betrayed, and never trusted me — leaving me helpless, closed off, and judgmental. It’s been so long since I’ve felt needed, I’m not sure I know how to allow someone to love me, for I can’t believe anyone is worthy of my trust.
I’ve tried so hard to let the past go, but there will always be something inside of me, stopping me from letting pure emotion overpower my minds’ infinite doubt. My paranoia is chasing the truth away… my sanity has been taken captive by skepticism. I don’t like to play the blame game, but throughout my life… I’ve encountered many prospects in my search for trust, honesty and respect; but have been given nothing but neglect, adultery and mistreatment. Due to these negative thoughts that linger, I keep myself busy with work, drinking, and partying, so I never have to regard the reality that I am, and have always been, Alone.
Growing up in my house was like growing up in a museum. Except in this museum there were no friendly curators or archivists, just statues, paintings, and me not being able to enjoy, touch, or look at any of them.
“Don’t touch that you’ll break it!” Shouted my dad on a daily basis.
Telling a 5 year old not to touch some precious new sculpture you spent thousands of dollars on in some foreign country you never brought me to, is ridiculous. My dad was, well is, some high powered executive at an international law firm which meant he traveled all the time and he still does. I rarely saw him then, so I never see him now. When I did see him it was for a brief moment where he paid me off to keep me from complaining too much. And off he went on another work related trip.
Luckily, I had a pretty nice nanny taking care of me, but nothing can replace the love of a Father and a Mother. My mom left when I was in elementary school, so I barely remember anything about her. I just remember that she was beautiful. I remember her long, wavy brown hair and piercing blue eyes… I just wish she would’ve stuck around to help me through my years of teenage malaise.
Anyway, I don’t care anymore. I mean, I try not to care about my childhood. In all honesty I try not to think about it at all. I have a great job, tons of money, the best clothes in my closet. I can pretty much do whatever I want, whenever I want. I don’t need to work, but I do because otherwise I’d probably have no social life. None of my coworkers or graduate class buddies really enjoy the “rustic” things I enjoy, but…I’m in NYC. Shopping, drinking, and doing coke at the club is fine by me. But somehow I can’t stop this feeling that I am alone.
Check out Part 1 Here