When I was seven you'd pinched me between my thighs, leaving bloodied indents. Hit me with your fists till I bruised. Beat me against the walls till you were satiated. Threw me around. Threw chairs and any objects you could find at me in your fits of rage and fury. And when I hid after, you never came looking for me. On the days you did, when you had left evidence of your abuse, you'd apply salve and tell me it's my fault. That I made you angry. You told me you did it because you loved me and that if you hadn't, you wouldn't be showing me love. So when I grew up I associated love with pain. An when I cut scars into my wrists and thighs it felt good, nostalgic, it reminded of the love you stopped giving me - the love I deserved. So I started giving it to myself. Beating myself against the walls of my mind, hurling hatred at myself resulting in a deep depression I didn't recognize was growing inside me. And whatever happened in my life regardless of who's fault it truly was it never really mattered because I always believe it was mine. Till today. I can't rid myself of the blame,shame,self-hatred or fear. Because growing up my foundation was built on that and the bounds sit tightly against my wrists and ankles.
Your partner never did anything to stop you mommy. Daddy would just watch. Which made it all the more normal for, all the more okay with it because you saw nothing wrong with it. You never physically beat me. But you never loved me either. You either neglected me growing up or you criticized me. So I tried to do anything and everything to please you. An still you never deemed me worthy of your attention. When I received it I was scorned, frowned upon and I remember how you'd look at me...how you looked at me until I grew up. With contempt, a disdain for me your biggest disappointment. Because that's what I was. I tried to be perfect for, the way you wanted me to be so nothing seemed to please you. I tried to do the opposite of what you criticized but I failed everytime. I could change from being a fuck up. I just was. At least that's how you saw me as a kid growing up. You rejected me at every given moment. I remember one day you were so frustrated with me that you struck me across the face, but that's not what had bothered me. It was the hatred I had seen in your eyes, the anger that stuck with me. Nothing I did was right or enough. I wasn't enough. So I grew up trying to please others out of habit, one that I can't seem to break. An to many they too were like you and it was never right or enough. To those who found no fault with me, I discarded their judgment to be lies or
irrational. Because I found it hard to believe that anyone could like me for me. Although I didn't know what me was because I changed so often, I'd lost myself in becoming people other than myself. You'd taught me lessons I can't really unlearn till today. And those lessons were that I wasn't good enough for love no matter what I did, that everything about me was wrong no matter how much I tried to change and that really an truly I was a mistake that you and even myself wish you hadn't made.Not only did I feel rejected, inadequate and unwanted. I felt like the only thing I deserved was the pain or "love" I received that I can't see myself without. Because for the life of me I do believe I'm worthless, because not one parent made me think so but the both. The problem was never with you guys but me and after trying so hard to fix it and failing. The only solution left was to disappear like I'd never even existed. But I failed at that too. An now I'm trapped in a prison of mind built on the foundations you taught me together and the layers of other people who only confirmed them. I cannot seem to break the cycle of bullshit in my mind or the pattern in my life.
With lots of love
Yours truly
Your daughter.
-M
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A/N: I don't write what I write for pity or attention. I write because it helps me deal with thinks that build up inside that have no release. That I feel and can't necessarily vocalize if not on paper. The reason for posting it is because there are people who may go through similar experiences or emotions and feel alone. I speak for myself but if someone can take something out of it or it can help someone feel a little better, then I've done my part in civil society. The idea is to make one feel less alone.
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Poetry Anthology
RandomThis book consist of an anthology of poetry. It's also copyrighted material.