I always thought my parents to be fair among us. I always thought they cared about us all the same. I always thought I would wholeheartly seek them for any advice, for any opinion I needed, for any help I wanted. I always thought I would be comfortable talking to them freely and sharing the whereabouts of my life with them.
I always thought that one day, when me and my brother would grow up, we'd sit around and talk like grown ups. We would talk about each ones work. We would talk about future plans with them. We would share our adventures with our friends. We would laugh at other dumb things we did. We would all sit around one day a week to watch a movie drink beer, maybe play board games and laugh at nonsense.
Yeah, maybe I'm living in my own fantasy. Maybe this is one uthopic life I'm imagining. Who wouldn't want that?
But at the same time I feel like I'm in no position to address this. It's not like I'm living in an ambiance of violence and abuse. It's not like I got abusive parents. It's not like I got a parent who resorts to using physical violence to unleash their anger. I may have what someone else doesn't have. I should be thankful for what I have. But what I have is toxic. What I have is a toxic environment, and I'm just realising that. So what should I be thankful for?
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Midnight thoughts
PoesíaThe title says it all. What anyone would think of, late at night, gathered in here. Because why not. (I promise you the chapters get better as you go, I'm continuously writing more and more chapters and I'll be more than glad to see if any of you ca...
