A little too little ✔️

Chapter 8

It's night now, I've spent so much time writing this and trying to tell you my truth, but nothing can equal to the pain I caused myself. As I grew up, myself and the therapy sessions started positively influencing me. I stopped loathing myself as much, but not completely. Sometimes my heart burned because I had nothing to remember my parents by. Then I always had my love for him, which was as strong as my parent's love for each other. Then he told me he couldn't do it anymore, and I've always known that he could have better. So, I let go.

I know that he thinks he's not good enough, but what I know more is that I'm not. So if I made him feel that way, if I depended on him way too much to make him feel that way when he needed me the most, I deserve the pain. Do you understand now? Do you get it? Do you know why I have so many questions, but deserve not to get answers? Do you know me enough now to know that I'm a burden?

I don't know what I feel like exactly now that all of this is on paper. Now that it would go on, surpassing my own life. Now that I have a story about my soul. I'm a little disoriented, and a lot more heartbroken, but what's new? It feels like my roots are binding my legs, pulling me towards them, towards my past. It feels like a rope that's holding me down, preventing me from achieving anything significant. But also, I love those roots, I love the binding that is now a part of myself.

At first, it was angry hurt and it was my way of punishing myself. Now, it's the dull pain that I can reside in so peacefully. You see, when you get used to sadness, when you really get used to it, it becomes a part of you. And I can easily say that sadness became a part of me a long time ago.

.......
It's the next morning again, I feel a little worse but a little better. Indulging in the past sure does make you miss it, and I do. I miss my parents so much, everyday. Last night made me realize that my mom never got to introduce that pie to anyone, and I feel sad about it. I don't know if it makes sense, but grief includes the little things too. So I have decided that I'm going to bake her pie today. The ingredients are a part of my memory like my name is, and I feel like I really owe this to her.