My Oppressed Life

The Heartache of a Former Social Light

The Heartache of a Former Social Light

She gazed in the mirror, dumbfounded by the events that occurred on her Facebook account a few hours ago.  She was beautiful with an olive complexion with a small size zero waist trying to talk herself out of self-doubt and fighting the insecurity that subsided in a life full of internalized moments of trauma in her past life. 

            “Stop being so dramatic.” as she got her flat iron to curl the mops of curly hair that she resented so much that covered the gray with a chestnut brown color that faded into a beautiful caramel blonde color. 

            The memories of the molestation she had begun to play in head as tears began to fall down her face. “Babe.” She yelled to the other room hearing silence from the beautiful downtown apartment she had in Manhattan, New York.
            “He’s never home” she thought to herself as she began curling her left side of her hair.  

            “You’re over that time in your life” she said as she put the curling iron down in force as she began to apply the MAC makeup she stored neatly and artistically at the DIY project she had the many nights she spent alone while her boyfriend was out looking for work during the age of COVID.  She admired the work as she said out loud “I should of went back to school.” as another thought came into her head in her marbled bathroom. 

            “You’re not smart enough.” she recalled as she remembered her teenage years of the nights her mom drank her sorrows away as the man she loved seemed to never be around. 

            “Maybe it’s what he did to me?” she replied as the resentment began to kick in of the events her stepfather came into her room one night in his underwear.    The day her stepdad tried to seduce her is a pain she lived with her whole life.  “At least I found someone like my dad” she said as she vaguely remembered as the first and last time she saw her father was when her mom took the hope she had when she said she wanted to live with her dad equally, which her mother punished her whole life 

            “Go with your father.” she remembers her mother saying when they would constantly argue.

            “You kept him from me.” she would say in tears as she always would say wishing he used social media to escape from the prison that was her home that became her molesters sanctuary.  She began to recall the resentment she had for her mother as she always blamed her for him leaving.  

            “You’re a liar.” she remembered her saying when she finally confessed to her mother about the abuse.  Which ended in constant guilt trips throughout her life. 

            She sighed as she said, “I am glad that burden is gone.” As she remembered her mother’s funeral being the happiest moments of her life.  She began to pick up the Urban Decay Naked Cherry makeup palette as she paused as if she saw a ghost.  The darkness she recalled was the day she almost poisoned her mother feeling as it was the only way out of her invisible chains. 

            “I am a bad person” she began to whimper in mourning which was interrupted briefly by the opening of her Manhattan condo.

            “Your home.” she said delightfully.  “I haven’t made dinner yet.” she said in shameful apologetic tone.  

            “I ate with a friend; I am not hungry.” he said in cold unappreciative resentment.  “Are you going to start again today.” he said in frustration.

            “You’re always accusing me of something” she said almost in tears. 

            “Why are you about to cry, is it that time of the month again.” he said in disgust. 

            “Sorry babe.  I just had a bad day.  Some troll on Instagram said somethings that got under my skin.” She said nonchalantly.  “It shouldn’t bother me because she has like 900 followers and I have over 500k.” she said as he interrupted. 

            “Well your insecurity gets the best of you.” he said in disgust.  “I was going to go anyway so I will let you be.  I just came to tell you the new PlayStation is coming out.  We need to reserve one.” he said uninterested in her day. 

            “You’re leaving again?” she said in a sadden disappointment.  “Since you been working all day this time I thought we could spend some quality time.” she said in hopeful dismay. 

            “I already had plans with my friend.  I can’t break my promise.  Besides you have that Insta thing going on.  That’s all you have time for.” He said disregarding. 

            “Well that’s how we pay bills.” she said apologetically.  

            He walked up to her in intimidation as he puffed his chest saying, “Are you being mouthy with me.”

            “No babe.” she said in apology.  

            “Good we don’t want what happened the last time when you made me lose my temper, right?” he affirmed. 

            She looked down as she said “No.”

            “Alright.  Make sure you reserve that system and I’ll see you when I am done.” he said as he pulled out his junk to take a leak. 

            “What time are you coming home.” she asked. 

            “When I am good and ready to come back” he said as he zipped his pants walking to the living room door of the condo. 

            “Bye” she said as she heard the slamming of the door.  She couldn’t hold back tears as she began to cry hitting the bathroom floor with her behind.  

            “I have no reason to be unhappy.” she reassured herself in tears. “I have followers, I am trending, I’m rich” she said as she looked up at the bathroom vanity that stood her Sky Vodka bottle she had.  She pulled it down and cradled it like a child.  She looked towards the kitchen contemplating a need for a mixer, which in a moment she took a swig of the bottle.  She put the bottle down that clanked and began to pound her head lightly on the vanity cabinet, which made her phone fall in her lap. 

            She looked at the phone and said in anger “Stupid ugly bitch.” as she unlocked her phone to see the reply of her message that said, “Harvard would never take you.”  Which made her think to herself for a minute?

            “She’s pretty smart and called me out on the bullshit I deflected” as she began to scroll some more seeing the last comment she left which read “You’re just jealous cause I have follower and I am rich.  Your ugly ass wish you were pretty as me.” 

            The rebuttal that followed made her cry again as it read “Yes you are pretty, but you are a horrible human.  You shame and gaslight ever person in your competitive pursuit of proving to yourself that your better than me.  You are prettier than me I will admit but you scream of daddy issues and co-dependency issues which probably has you with an unappreciative man that you settle with because you’re afraid to be alone.  That’s what makes me stronger than you because I am comfortable with myself and don’t need things like followers and materialist items to prove my worth.  I’m enough to prove my worth too.”

            She throw her phone towards the wall as she said, “Fuck you ugly Betty” and saw that it shattered. “My Instagram Live and Tik-Tok live meet and greet.” she said.  She lifted her body off the floor with bottle in hand running to her laptop in her Versace silk robe.  She unlocked her custom-made Mac Book and smiled for a bit as she said, “Something Ugly Betty doesn’t have” and pulled up the Apple website.  She looked at the repair services and said “I might as well buy a new phone.  I deserve it after the whole Ugly Betty fiasco.”  which she charged on her Apple Card.  She got up feeling accomplished to the bathroom vanity to prep for her Live feed which was 20 minutes away.  She looked in the mirror once again in sadness as she said, “I’m better than her, right?” She took another swig at the bottle as she said convincingly “As soon as this pandemic is over, I will be around all my friends again.” as she sighed thinking the one thing she always questioned.

            “Are they really my friends.” she said in uncertainty.  

Published by Frieda Lopez at Frieda the Writer

Frieda López is the writer for Journey of an Unraveled Road who was born and raised in San Antonio, TX. Through her professional career in Customer Relations and Retail Management, she has utilized her experience and interactions with the behavioral patterns, which was used to start her personal journey with Journey of A Unraveled Road as her debut novel. She has completed philosophy, psychology, and theology courses at San Antonio College as well as creative writing courses. Frieda López has been a lifelong writer since 2nd grade. A survivor of childhood trauma, childhood abuse, and domestic violence, she wrote this piece, which started this book as her personal journey; works from home in San Antonio, TX.

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