ɪɴꜱᴜꜰꜰɪᴄɪᴇɴᴛ

00

prologue.

" if we don't heal our own hood, who will? "

a saying my father installed heavily into our minds from a young age.

he made sure we knew that it didn't matter if the ask came from family or friends, no one's intentions are ever pure.

we never took those words with a grain of salt.

that & only that saying is what stuck with me.

it was hard to trust anything said to me,  with a drug addict for a father & an alcoholic for a mother.

neither of them were ever sober enough to take care of me & my brother.

every time we looked in the small black mini fridge in their room the beer inventory depleted & the smell of drugs increased.

they weren't always like this.

as life got harder & the stress of having to raise two young children, my parents witnessed their breaking points.

& we had front row seats to watch.

we had no other family to take us in.

our mother disowned for her cultivation in older men & our father was tossed around in the foster care system.

so we had no choice to grow up fast, depriving us of the luxury of a childhood.

hop scotch on the side walk, playing tag with the other kids on the block & our parents watch from the front porch.

nothing but a mere fantasy.

parents are supposed to guide you through life & keep you on the right track of life.

smother you with love.

take all the pain , worry & suffering away.

teach you about morals & the difference between right & wrong.

to be the purpose they strive for more.

but all i got was broken faith.

" do mommy & daddy hate us? " 6 year old me asked my brother.

" who could possibly hate you? " he said completely ignoring the question at hand.

then again i guess it was a question that required no answer.

expressions said a lot.

" i love you & that's all that matters "

this was my eight year old brother saying this.

all he should have to worry about was debating whether green or blue was his favorite color.

i guess you could call me a burden.

how could i blame myself for the fault of my parents, i think now looking back.

if they had their priorities straight everything would be fine.

but there's also that part of me that wonders if i wasn't such a brat & raising me was easy, would they have still chosen the path they chose?

would we have the family we longed for.

we may never know the outcome of such events.

as much as i hate to say it, you can't turn back time, the only thing you can do & pray for a better future avoiding the repetition of history.

life began at a young age for me.

whether it was my fault or not, i had no choice or say in the matter.

there's only one thing i can say for certain.

& that was that i lacked a great amount of love growing up.

or maybe the proper term would be insufficient.