there are some things people don't like to hear.
"but was it really abuse?" they push, "tell me what happened." they want you to prove yourself, prove what happened to you.
you explain yourself. you tell them. you get disgust. now you're oversharing.
"but you asked!" you want to howl, enraged, but you hold your tongue.
or else you get pity, an "im so sorry that happened to you."
you don't want pity. you want them to be angry for you, angry with you. you want them to spit at the feet of those that wronged you and stand arm in arm as you face them.
but instead you get disgust and pity.
you learn what not to say.
"my dad left me" is easier to say than
so you learn to say that instead. that, people can stomach easier. "mine too." they'll say, and they'll smile at you. so you learn not to say "i wish my dad had left me." you learn not to say "my dad-"
you learn what's alright to share and what isnt. people want to hear about abuse in the newspapers, far away from them and their safe little boxes. they dont want to be reminded that those people exist all around them.
you hate that you need to learn these things. you want to tell people what happened to you.
when your class shares stories of childhood, you stay silent. when people ask about your family, you shrug. you say you don't have one.
you don't say that you'd rather have no family than the family you've got.
vaporwave
ellievsbear
tangentwithtanner
pixelskylines
izzy806
