sometimes...you just gotta swing...

Remember in elementary school when the science fair came around and everyone wanted to make the tornado in the bottle because that was the easiest project? Or when you first found out that after you shook a bottle or can of soda and opened it, it exploded? Ever like to throw soy sauce, duck sauce, or ketchup packets on the ground and then stomp them to see condiments go flying? That was me again, yesterday.

I've grown up rough, okay, a blessing and a curse. Sometimes, I still resort to the fact that some people just don't learn until you pop them in the mouth one good time. Some energy just never becomes co-operative with yours until you let it explode and calm down, but I never thought my emotions...and hers...would've exploded like that.

Swing batter, batter, swing...

I've stated it before, and I'll forever state it because I am proud of the way my mother raised me: I am a good girl. I've never been in a real fight. Sure in junior high school and high school I thought I was a bad ass and wanted to fight everybody all day everyday, but my angels on speed dial know the human they were charged with. It never happened. So, do I know I can fight? No. But will I? Hell mother-effing yes. To the death. With no regrets.

I know me. I know who I was as an angry child which is why I've strived so hard the past four years to become docile and peaceful. I know that I have a hot temper and fast tongue. I know that when I let myself give into my emotions strange and unpleasant things can happen. I don't ever want to see her face and envision rage. I don't ever want to lift my hand to her with the intention of causing serious bodily harm...but yesterday, shit yesterday we just had to swing.

We are grown. In our twenties. In college. What do we look like brawling? Two women who both have tremendous issues that we keep ignoring. Two women who have no outlet (at least none that we recognize) for our anger, sadness, and pain. Two women who love each other so much that we believe if ' beat the shit out of you this one time to make you understand, you will.'

My body still hurts. Adrenaline overpowered my will and I felt absolutely nothing yesterday. Nothing but my fist connecting to her head and my hand clamped dangerously around her throat. But today, my neck throbs, my side aches, my heart is crying.

I'm sorry.

I know that it was difficult for those present to watch us tear at each other like that. A friend of mine had a nervous breakdown after the episode. She had to remove herself from our space, walk back to her own, and cry.

I'm sorry.

I can't be the bearer of other's burdens anymore. I can't allow someone to erase my four years of growth, maturity, and effort. This incident has placed us in such an awkward and confusing state...I mean, I still love her. Of course I do...

Solitude.

I am afraid to face my demons. I am afraid to turn my cell phone off, deactivate my facebook, even cancel my twitter. I've stopped updating but the application is still there on my home screen. I am afraid to close my eyes, recline, and listen to what my angels have to say. After ignoring them for twenty years, I know it be a long, deep, conversation. I am not afraid to say that I am afraid.

I am my mother's child. Everything she is in all of her strengths, flaws, and misguided actions, I emulate. In fearing becoming her, I have (a-duh) become her. Damn...