Eva Balistreri ’21, The Lifetimes It May Take

The Lifetimes It May Take —Eva Balistreri ‘21

and even on my team I hold a position of power I cut my hair and grew it back and dyed it blonde just to dye it back I pierced my own ears and got a tattoo in a place no one can see - not even you I saw the world from the top of a mountain and with my best friend I jumped into the fountain and know she is someone who is with me to the end I spent a night on the roof of the church three streets over with a girl from whom I never got closure I even drove to New York and got back in time to see the sun rise But I still wasn’t worth it, not in my own eyes I must not allow myself to believe that this is enough And simply give up when things get rough I have made it this far and will not stop now Yes, I’ve pulled myself through all the ups and downs So I must go on and I say this now Because there is so much more of which I could be proud I want to grow up and watch my hands wrinkle And on her wedding day see my best friends’ eyes twinkle I want to say that I have voted And know that to justice I will always be devoted I want to hold a child in my arms And do whatever possible to protect them from harm I want to look in the mirror and believe I am enough And perhaps even defy my younger self’s bluffs I want to see the scars of my tears heal Yet look back on those nights and remember it’s okay to feel But most of all, more than anything ever, I want to leave this life knowing I will be remembered.

I ponder while I smoke. The mixture of monochromatic greys creates an amorphous cloud of toxicants above me. A light tap of the end of the bud causes the ash to scatter in a million directions, settling into the atmosphere. Inhaling just enough to feel the slight kick of nicotine in the back of my throat before exhaling. Living in Naples, the air lacks thickness, and it is easy to breathe no matter what your smoking habits are. The ocean breeze balances out the harsh heat rays the sun omits, so it is enjoyable even in the hotter months when you feel like you might melt away. The architecture is traditional and classic, untouched by any large cooperation set on making cookie-cutter houses for the hoi polloi. Every plant and every building is one with the rest. It is a living form of art. One harder tap and I feel the bitter end of the bud searing into my skin. At this point, I have become immune to the pain. A little discomfort is worth it when I can escape for just a moment. To my surprise, I see him, my beautiful boy, looking his thin ringlets curl up on his sideburns. As he smiles, his face widens up enough to show his actual teeth. I can tell by the way his nose scrunches up if it is a true grimace. It makes me happy to see him smile, even though I sure as hell don’t. I was never depressed, but I just didn’t feel that it was necessary to constantly project out to the world what emotions I was feeling at every given moment. Now that I think about it, I should smile more. Every man I have ever a misogynistic undertone, I might actually take the criticism with a little more than I pose less of a threat to people? I thought men liked it when I snapped at them? that in order to be approached in a normal manner I have to either resort to self remains true is that I am far from any of those things. I am eccentric and bold. I away in the kitchen for my husband. That is not me, and that is not what I want to project to the world, and certainly not to my son. eardrums like most children. It’s smooth like he has his own personal sound that argument, and neither one of us is quick to settle. I must have the last word. I need to establish myself because I am the dominant one in our relationship. I am

allow any room for doubt. I know that when I do, the humiliation is worse than to understand that he has yet to reach that age where he can accurately decipher right from wrong. The other day I caught him dumping a bowl of ice-cold water on his father while he was in the shower. The little punk thought he could get away with it when Roger was jammed in between the sliding glass doors of the shower. It worries me that moments like these will affect his mindset in the grand scheme of things. These little events will spiral and manifest into something darker. I fear that an innate sense of entitlement will cloud his judgment and one wrong decision will quickly lead to another. It starts when he is younger and he thinks he can get away with pranks - then pranks turn into cheating, cheating turns into stealing, stealing turns into assault, and so on. I cannot have my only child represent all that I loathe in this cruel world. The good still shines through. I can see it in his eyes. Moans and other strange noises come from the other side of the fence surrounding the house. It’s not even 5:00 pm and the alcoholic neighbor has surpassed her limit of liquor intake. At this point, it doesn’t surprise me anymore, but it would be nice if she didn’t cause such a scene. It’s embarrassing, and she dresses. She looks approachable because it would be easy to move in on someone when they are rendered unconscious. She doesn’t look like she has any form of family or stability in her life. I kind of sympathize with her situation, but at the same time how do you allow yourself to get to that place. It’s embarrassing and I worry how it affects the kids in the neighborhood, especially Robert. I don’t want him to feel the constant burn of the habitual effect toxic behavior can cause. It doesn’t just exhaust the body. The mind quickly follows, until all that’s left is the ashy remnants of what was once pure and untouched.