"Do you love me Ally?" He asked, keeping the intense eye contact.
"I'll never love you." I spat out, glaring hard, the anger uninvitendly intruding on my already muddled feelings, "Never in my miserable life will I ever direct those absurd words at...
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𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 become numb to loss and grief?
It's quite simple really. You learn to live with it, when it's gone, it's gone. There really isn't anything you can do about it, to make it feel easier on yourself. To force the dull ache away.
On the other hand, I do feel as if i've always suffered the hard end of the stick. Not in a selfish or narcissistic way, just that the impact of things have consistently felt like they are weighing me down more than others.
Effecting everything I do.
I might be reading into it too much. Over-thinking they call it.
Though I wouldn't say that I am damaged or fragile, purely more exposed to the cruelty that people are so sheltered from in society.
For instance, in my case, my dear mother. She shaped many of the blemishes and flaws to my body and in my head. Sometimes I wished she still loved me.
Love. It's such an exotic word to come from my mouth. Rarely ever heard of. They say a mother's love is the most powerful of them all. But I disagree. It's my own.
I do wish my years spent alive was a tale of love, bliss and thrill. Yet we don't always get what we want in life.
Shame.
Thankfully though, I took the hint after my wishes never came true and ditched the idea all together. But with giving things up come disappointment, which you are forced to let go.
The anger that replaces the disappointment is alarming. Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot piece of coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one that gets burned. Not the other person.
Anyhow, enough of me explaining the sappy reality of being alive.
Seven months, eleven days and two hours have passed since my brother, Kane, went missing. I say missing because I won't even consider that he's dead.
He left no trace. But i'm convinced he ran away, he couldn't be dead and I wouldn't believe it.
Still, what really hurts is the fact that he left me here with our mother. He knows what she did, what she's done. Yet he still left without me.
That really stung, harder than anything.
When the police came knocking at my door, I opened it. Hoping to hear the good news, that he was back. But instead they told me my brother was deceased. Found face down in a lake. I know that's not true, i'm not ludicrous.
