If Parental Love Is A Bed To Lie Upon, Then I Am Cushioned On Broken Hopes, Broken Dreams, Broken Glass, and Eggshells
my mother, as much as she has wronged me, does love me a lot. I know that. Even if it sometimes doesn't feel like it, it always becomes obvious again later. Her love only seems to grow actually. Even though I've never been as close with her as with my father in the past. And This is why it pains me so much to get older and see my father, who has always had my back, has always been by my side, watch me transform from Daughter to Woman in a flash, and grow to loathe me just as quickly. I think that all daughters, especially eldest ones, suffer with going from being your father's precious child, to just another hysterical bitch, practically overnight. And what breaks me the most... what kills me so much, is that it didn't even take much, or take long….I barely got to make a peep, and already I have made too much noise, and I am annoying, and I am unruly, and I am disappointing, and there is something wrong with me. I need to be fixed. I am not what he wanted, & he no longer has the decency to even hide it. He just says it now, And while my mother's love, no matter how misplaced, or how misused, only ever seems to grow, my father's seems to only get smaller. There is contempt in his eyes when he looks at me. There is disgust in his tone when he speaks to me. He cannot see Me beyond what he thinks of me. ...What he thinks of Women. What he thinks of Lesbians. While my mother cuts out what she does not want of me and tosses it aside like rotten bits of fruit, and it hurts all the same, she still sees the rest of me. loves all the rest of me that she can find.
