The shattering of glass is an absolute permanence. Whether is was through means of a stone with a single cast, or those thrown over the course of years. The shattering screech that resonates just before each shard s c a t t e r s in a hectic blast is heard once from that panel of previously pristine glass. Its remnants laying still on whatever surface it had happened to be broken upon. ------------------------------------ There was a little girl who loved reading books. Every day, all the time While walking the school halls, while eating; the book spread open by the sides of a plate or bowl. They'd make her cry, make her angry, make her laugh, and make her smile. Books were a joy. An escape. A Happiness. She threw them at her. The little girl had left books laying around the house. So Mother threw them at her. Hitting her arms, chest. Yelling. SCREAMING. "Useless Bitch." .....Why? ---------------------- The little girl loved to write. Stories about spies, magic, a princess. Typing on computers and writing in composition notebooks. Stories blossomed from her being onto pages of ink. Mother took her notebook from her hands and hit her in the face with it. Over and over. Until there was blood. And a scar on her left eye lid. The little girl ran to her room and cried. There was something horrifyingly heart shattering, To see the blood on the corner of her notebook. "You deserve it. This is your fault." ----------------------- Another night. The little girl had an anxiety attack, After She beat her again. she ran out of the house to seek solace, on the lamp lit streets while she lost her mind. When peace finally came she returned home. ".... If you ever do that again I WILL DRAG YOU BACK INTO THE HOUSE BY YOUR HAIR." ---------------------------- "Shes your mother." " You'll get over it." "You'll grow up and make up with her." I didn't deserve it. I don't care how ungrateful she thought I was, just because I wasn't the way she wanted me to be. I never knew the love of a mother's hug. Instead I was met with being beaten and kicked on the bathroom floor, being threatened to be killed, being told my face would be used to clean the fucking toilet. Being told by her that if she ever went to jail cause of me, from her beating me, that when she got out of prison she would KILL me. I was told to go to my room before she came home so she wouldn't see me. I had to wait till she went to sleep to be able to tiptoe out and get food. I would cut my wrists so that hopefully someone could see my pain and help me. I told my friend I wanted to jump out of my bedroom window. (My step dad stopped me) They favored my younger brother over me. While she spoke of how useless I am. She would purposely talk to him in front of my about getting him a tv. Buying him a car. "Joanna wants to go to japan? Have fun going there and being raped and killed." (I was 8 or 9 at the time) "We'll pay for your college and new PC." (to my brother) I never blamed him. Maybe when I was younger I did. But it wasn't his fault that he didn't help me when he heard my screams, nor did anything else. He was a kid, too. And he was also afraid of her(even though she never hurt him, except once). Even if it weren't for her smashing a composition notebook into my face over and over causing a scar over my left eye, or for her telling me its my fault we'd never have a good relationship, even if it werent for her beating me and daring me to call the police (which I did call) and her telling the police i should be the one kicked out of the house on an emergency protective order for three days and not her, even if it weren't for her kicking me out multiple times (on my birthday) and taking a car away from me, The constant manipulation, gas lighting, physical, mental and emotional abuse, I would think is enough to make anyone go mad. The abuse is not a reason for me to blame shitty situations I found myself in, or mistakes and actions I've done because of how I was raised. But it sure as hell was a big influence. I've developed a comping mechanism of blacking out memories that are painful for me due to this. I've developed anxiety and I'm sure some kind of mental illness as an outcome. It hurt me when I felt like my family looked down at me because of where I was or am in life. My parents kicked me out at 18. I had no car, no money. No help or guidance. I didnt know how to get back into school. I didn't know what to do with myself. I'm doing much better now. I'm not suicidal anymore, though I do have moments where I spiral or blackout when things become too much. But I'm better because Im away from her. I'm happier because I will never allow her to be a part of my life. I hazily remember something about her saying something insulting about me having a child... She will never see any child I have. And no, I will never forgive her, nor forget. And I personally think thats okay. Do I have hate for her? Only when I remember the things shes done to me. But besides that. Shes dead to me :) And doesnt exist.
kianamaiart
gummygunk
origamiaround
