sometimes
i feel like a little girl again in the worst way possible. cowering in a corner clutching some random stuffed animal i deemed was god for tonight bc i dont wanna be alone for another family argument. one of the ones that the neighbors hear. one of the ones the police are called for. one of the ones i pack my bags for.
you know, the bags all 9 year olds pack when theyve had enough. filled with my favorite shirts and one pair of pants that dont make me feel as chubby as i am.
and when i feel like that, how am i to heal her? how am i meant to hug her while the brother is begging the mom not to leave. that he’ll change. that something will change.
bc it has to right?? one day we’ll be able to feel like one. one day we’ll be able to go through these painful memories as proof of change, not of a pattern.
sometimes, i wish we left.
