The Nursery Apartment

We stayed at this apartment quite longer than others. I was maybe about 12 to 14 years old for the duration of us living there. I think we lived here for most of middle school. We had a two bedroom up stairs. It was nice and tucked away behind a nursery. My mother let me have the master bedroom which had a balcony with a nice view of some dense trees.

I remember having a full or queen bed. Maybe I thought it was a queen because I was small. There was an old computer tucked on a thin desk in the corner by my large long closet. A few of those plastic drawer things lay on the carpeted floor next to it.

I would remember sitting there with a lighter after I would light my incense and burn the plastic handle. I would sit there for a good minute watching how the heat affected the plastic, how it would melt and drip down, how it would turn black towards the top of the flame.

I remember sitting for hours on my computer when I was feeling really down. This computer wasn’t hooked up other than power. All I had was word. I would sit there though and type up poems and mumbled messes of different descriptive words on how I was feeling. Any word that could possibly describe the darkness within me went on that page. Loser. Pain. Ugly. Horrible. Hurt. Dull. No one. Maybe I was more poetic then.

This is also around the time I got really interested in learning about Wicca. I would look up information on our more updated and internet equipped computer that had a home in our living room. I would write it down and later keep typed up documents on my computer. The phases of the moon. Weird nonsense “spells”. Any information I could find. I look back now and see that maybe I was trying to find piece in my otherwise awful life.

I transformed in this apartment. I loved Evanescence. I wore those steel ball chokers. I listened to German goth music off of this vampire website. I wore those thin black plastic bracelets you find at Hot Topic. I was very pale and had dark black hair that always looked greasy. Maybe from all that gel I’d slap into it. I would play around and draw on black lips with my eye liner. I wasn’t an innocent little girl anymore. Everything was much darker now.


Middle school was rough and this apartment saw a lot. I was coming into myself. Who ever that was.


To be continued.


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