at a loss...

so much has happened since Thanksgiving that I shudder to try and write about all of it.

You see it's late. Late in the night almost morning. As I fancy my jelly to face an awkward brunch at noon, all I can think about is the love that will not be.
I am frustrated by her beauty. By her voice. By her energy that wraps me in silence and denial.

She is unattainable because I spoke too soon and with too much promise.

Regardless of my Catholic upbringing I am a sexual being that needs and craves attention. Both passive & aggressive.

I admit to being a creature of the night. I burst forth into this plain at 11:49pm and have never looked back. Least of all into the face of my birth mother.

I wish people could understand that being rejected at birth leaves a scar that has no depth or width, but it encompasses all of your being. Forever, you have questions. Forever, you wonder what made them give you life and not just chuck you in the bin of other mistakes and regrets? Why live through 9 months of me and then not love me enough to keep?

What money?? Position? All the rumors I have heard makes me think that I was meant to be "someone". The emptiness of that statement only makes me someones child. Maybe, someones sister, only I am the bastard. The one that brought shame upon the house with no name.

I was lucky, I got the best parents in the lottery of adoption. They gave me everything, believed in me when I did not, they were and are the only family I will ever know. I was lucky.

Yet still I have questions that haunt my dreams. Who is Mariea Marsden "Brandy" Rowell? My birth mother named me Cheryl. Clearly she didn't know me at all.