Stuff I write

Not a poem, just frustration

September 26, 2023. 7:09 PM

Everything in this house is as moldy, broken and disfuncional as our family is.
I'm not saying our family has terrible mental illnesses or hatred, but we do have broken relationships that are now rusty and very weak. We show love, somehow, but the feelings underneath are the truth of what we really feel towards each other.

I suppose this isn't anything new in any family.

We hoard old things and shove them in a humid and moldy corner of our house, where the light manages to peak in, enough for our neighbors to see what is inside.
We hoard memories and feelings fueled from old experiences that made us distrust our family, our parents, our fellow humans. Like our terrible fighting, loud and shameful for the past couple of years. You see us as regular people, and then once in a while we fight like rabid dogs. The ears and eyes of others peak through the walls and then everything calms down for many more years.

The mold and fungi grow bigger, until it explodes once again.