I think in a lot of ways, I do love my parents. But there is a specific anger that I've become so intimate with because of them. It's the anger of not being able to yell, because you know you'd get your phone, or your car, or your room taken away. It's the anger of trying to express how you feel but constantly being told you just always play the victim. When I was younger that anger was always brash and erratic, as I grew up, it became calculated and sharper. Instead of wanting to physically hit and inflict that level of pain, it became pointing out insecurities and degrading remarks. Its no more controlled now than before, but this way it has an idea of a target instead of collateral damage.
I have become someone I'm not proud of, but someone I'm unapologetic for. This is how I survived and I won't fault myself for it, but I also won't praise it.
My relationship with my parents isn't as bad as so many others, but it wasn't ideal. It's not what a young child deserved and it certainly wasn't the best THEY could've done. I was given the worst scraps of two broken human beings, and asked to make the best of it. I knew sadness before I knew happiness. I knew punishment before reward, and as a result I learned to see the world as hopeless. So it should be no surprise when I wished to leave a hopeless world at the bitter age of 10. I hated myself, I hated my parents, and I hated that I couldn't ever fully feel that hate without being guilted out of it. They would be terrible for so long and then become kind and caring, and I didn't know how to reconcile the two versions and it fucked me up. I didn't understand them, so I assumed it must've been me. I was the issue. This belief was only further exacerbated by my mother constantly telling me I was a devil child. That I just made things up and repeated it until it was true. That I was horrid and horrible and I deserved nothing.
Maybe a better person than I, would've taken all this and fought. They would've become kind and gentle and been BETTER. But I am me, and I'm not much of a fighter. I just wanted peace. For as long as I've known, I've felt a weight in my soul, a burden, that I just KNOW would only be relieved by death.
YOU ARE READING
Lost In My Head
Poesía"This is something that I hope no one will ever see, because this one thing..... Just this once, I wish to treasure for only me" ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ A book of poetry and prose, and the general musings of my fucked up mind
