Your Struggles is What Creates Your Depth

CAN I PLEASE SHARE?!--

(August 24th,2023)
As kids we didn't know mimicking our drunk dad as entertainment wasn't normal
We didn't know us knowing him as drunk means we really never knew him
Talking about him seems so vile and vain
But not talking about it all feels like this scab I pick at and never let heal it just gets deeper with rage
Knowing my parents and loving them are not the same thing
Knowing my parents is like how I remember their birthdays down to the year
Knowing them is how their footsteps felt coming up the stairs
Knowing how when to turn numb so the emotions lied on your face
Knowing how each breathe we held in became another cry of pain
Knowing that each word we let slip out was like Jaws jetting out of the ocean
Silence was knowing what it felt like to be completely empty and broken
Knowing my mom was like kissing a bruise on one hand and slapping it over and over again with the other
When people ask if I know them
I wish I could tell them this
Knowing them is being stabbed and begging to be stabbed again
But loving them feels worse
Somedays my rage can't handle the side that loves them
She makes excuses like they've earned it
She acts like her existence is only because they put up a mirror painted with who they need her to be
Loving them to her is biting the hand that feeds her
Loving them is adding disease to an already open wound
Sometimes loving them means
She forgets that it's okay to cry and show her emotions
Loving them means she forgets it's okay to be breaking at the seams
Loving them means everything is forgotten
But knowing them means you can breathe
Without question if it's okay or not
Knowing them means all that trauma is something to be shared not quieted
Knowing them means you can love and hate what they've done to and for you at the same time
But knowing them but hiding it from the outside kills more parts of me than loving them ever will
One day when I speak and become the whistle blower I hope my voice never shakes this time