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Hi,

It's my morning before my morning. I'm probably going to do a lot of writing today because Friday they will be prying my iPhone from my quivering fingers.

Friday, I reset, start over and hopefully become human.
I'm a prisoner you see. Not the "slit my husbands throat and chucked him into the lake" kind...
Nor am I the "moved around a few zeros and got a better tax return" kind...

But, the kind that someone builds with invisible spiderweb strong gossamer threads of their own spinning.

And spun I have.

I started weaving at about age six. My dad and I were out shopping for a new jacket. It was the first time he let me pick something out. I chose a mid-thigh pink corduroy coat with grey piping and snaps-I love snaps. I loved that coat. I think it was my intro to fashion. I wish I could have passed that coat to Rowan, but, I think my sister puked on it. Corduroy and puke are not a good combo.

We return to the car, my dad tells me I can sit up front. Only he doesn't start the engine. Keys gripped, my dads hands fall to his lap and he looks at me. "Adri, do you know how babies are made?"

Confused I say "I think so". I had no idea, but, since everyone always said I was so smart, I couldn't let something like this destroy my image. I faked it.

My dad points to his junk and says "well, a man takes this and puts it in that" pointing at my junk. "some fluids are exchanged and 9 months later a baby comes out.

"...because of this fact Adri, I am not your father. I'm sorry. Your mother and I would like me to be, but, you have to want me to be. Do you want me to be your father?"

My thought processor was over heating. I understood-I am smart, remember? I was suddenly so hurt, happy, sad, mad....I felt too much all at once. My dad was still talking about adoption and parties...All I was picturing was my dad peeing inside of my mom.

I looked over and whispered "yes".

And the threads began to weave....

It was the first time I buried my emotions. I had to stay strong for my dad. I didn't want him to see that I was upset. A single tear fell.
Now my prison is a tight cocoon.

This weekend I will begin my metamorphosis.

Who will I be?

What will I become. Only time can say.

I always did want wings.

-Adree Does Eat