of all the women and of all the men, there is no pair as tragic as theirs. the walking, breathing, crying manifestation of dead dreams, futile hopes, and broken love. they couldn't be happy if they tried.
it bothers me. how they are so complex yet so simple. perhaps they don't know themselves yet,
which is heartbreaking because half their life has passed them by, and the only thing they have to show for it are two girls who make promises to each other that they'll never be like their parents. I'm not my father, I'm not, I'm not! i scream at my mother who accuses me of being selfish and lecherous like him.
and my sister swears vehemently that she will be a much better mother to her own children than ours ever could be to us.
(do they love us or do they have no other choice?)
my mother could have been a professor of history, she could have been part of a secret society of revolutionaries, she could have been a social messiah.
but she gave it all up for her ailing parents, and then for my father, and then for us.
and she continues to give give give give up. she screams at everyone but herself.
what's that about looking directly in the sun but never in the mirror?
and my father, the middle child, with a spoiled sister and a brother always called more beautiful,
has a hand as heavy as his heart. it has left bruises on me - both body and soul.
i naturally fall into the orbit of people reminiscent of my father. those who will control me, violate me, manipulate me.
because we don't look for good love, we look for familiar love.
the violence and tragedy of our parents, passed on to us, and our children, and their children, and the cycle never breaks. the cut always bleeds.
i want to be a mother myself someday. the thought of it fills me with hope and light. i have a picture of them (my children) in my head, what they'll look like, what i'll teach them, what names i'll give them, what songs i'll sing to them (mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird) - but,
and it makes my stomach drop to think this,
if i am going to be anything like my parents, i pray my body turns barren,
lest i create more broken people, thus fulfilling the only legacy of my parents.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
