Rainy Days

Rain:

Say, have you ever been so deep in your own thoughts that you feel like you're slowly sinking in a sea of darkness? Have you ever been in a situation where the thought of running as far as your legs take you crosses your mind?

Because I have. Since the very day I could walk. I never experienced being loved or wanted.
I was never praised for anything I did, nobody ever told me what was right or wrong, what's good and what's evil. I was simply here and I had nothing. I was absolutely clueless on what I had to do. I had to teach myself everything, and I had to grow up without any support from anybody. When I fell nobody picked me up from the ground, and held me in their arms while I cried my eyes out.

At school I couldn't even wear decent clothes like the rest of the people because I simply didn't have the money to buy it. I got bullied a lot. Not being able to afford food at school, hiding in the bathroom during breaks to avoid people looking for me. 

Working myself to death since a young age, to the point of passing out due to the lack of food and water. I picked up garbage and I cleaned dishes in a shabby restaurant in the city.

I never cried because of the pain,

I cried because it was too much.

Too much for a little girl to handle.

It's fine, it's going to be alright. Just hold on a little longer. Just...a...little...longer. 

You're doing great, I'm proud of how far you made it. You have clothes to keep you warm, you have a roof above your head to keep you dry when the rain hits, most importantly you have a bottle of water and just enough food to get through the day without passing out. That's what I told myself since the day I started working at the age of 11. Today, the bus driver was nice enough to give you a free ride. I was thankful that I had to clean up after work so I could stay away from home a little longer. I'm afraid. I'm terrified to enter my own house. I am terrified of my mother to be specific.

She's beat me unconscious numerous times since I was a kid, she did so with her bare hands, her feet or with objects such as a baseball bat or an iron pipe. I got chairs and tables thrown at me sometimes even. For me it was a everyday routine for me to get home quietly late at night from work, tiptoeing to her room to check if she was asleep and carefully walking to my room. On rare occasions I found her passed out in a random place surrounded by empty bottles of alcohol or little bags, pills or needles. Every night when my mother slept soundly I thanked whoever was watching over me.