When I was seven years old I listened to my dad scream at my mom, across the whole house, about what a whore she was because she would not have sex with him. My little brain, could not understand at the time what irony that was. My little body, cold from sleeping on the floor did not understand that, what they had was not love.Â
When I was nine years old, I watched my dad say goodbye to my mom. He did not show signs on sadness, only relief. My little brain, damaged from the drugs, alcohol and verbal abuse in my home, did not understand that this was not a normal grieving technique.
When I was thirteen my Father brought home a familiar woman, she smiled at me and told me how much like my mother I looked, she tried to reassure me that when she was nursing my dying mother, she and my dad were not fucking, but my gut told me this woman was lying, she was. My Father was always the whore, never my mother.
When I was sixteen my father worked out of town, and I lived alone, my little body vanishing because no one was there to tell me to eat. I found a journal from my sister, detailing the abuse she received from her boyfriend, how he threw her down stairs, and broke her jaw and she lied for him because she loved him. My damaged brain did not understand that this was not love.Â
When I was seventeen, on the day that marked eight years without my Mother, my Father took a woman to get an engagement ring. When I asked him if he knew was that day stood for he responded with âThe happiest day of my lifeâ, as if my mothers passing, the most traumatic thing my little brain couldn't comprehend, meant nothing to him. As if the revolving door of slutty, drug addicted woman he brought into my life was not going to effect me.Â
When I was eighteen I had a best friend, who loved a man so deeply she could not imagine breathing without him. Earth seemed grey without him, and when he told her to take a part of her out of her body, she obeyed him, and she was never the same.Â
When I was nineteen, I fell in love. I fell in love so sincerely I planned the worlds future around him, I saw the bees living on just to keep his sinusâ pissed off and I saw lions surviving because he loved them, and how could the world take something that made this boy so happy.Â
When I was twenty, I ignored all the signs. I let things slide, I made excuses and I cried to myself. and When the boy reminded me of my father, when we fought about sex, I felt close to my mom. I felt her pain, what she had been through, and I clung to the man harder. I clung so hard that I lost feeling in my arms, and I never regained the feeling.Â
I am twenty-one and I do not know what a true, healthy relationship is. I have never seen one. I am scared I may never know. I know what it feels like to be loved, i have been loved, purely, sincerely, and i felt like our love was stronger than any love before ours, but my brain, has been wrong before.
baratheonpilled
prguitarman
discoholicmusic
vaporwave
ellievsbear
izzy806