Sometimes I ask myself why I hate my parents
And over the course of some odd years I've come to realize
I don't hate them
Not like that
I love them for all they have done for me
And I despise them for what they didn't do
It was not the presence of something that birthed that anger in me, but the absence of what I needed
They forced me to love them and myself by their rules
Rules I was never taught and didn't understand
Until I was 10 years old and wishing I was dead because in my eyes I was not loved
The food on my plate, the clothes on my back, and the rubbing oil into my hair
Was not love
But the screaming matches and vases thrown at moving bodies
Was also simply
Not love
The way I ate three meals a day and did my homework on time
Was not love
The only love I was taught to accept, was the kind that came with bells and baubles
The store bought, shiny, you-leave-the-price-tag-on, type of love
The love where I could've had anything had I asked correctly, but correctly changed day by day
It was a peculiar kind of love
It was scolding me for what I did, until tears leaked from my eyes like a broken faucet
It was breaking wooden spoons on my arms
It was dragging me down a flight of stairs by hair
It was forcing me to be my little sisters protector, when she was caught in the crossfire
It was watching my big sister age with every scream, crash, and profanity
It was seeing ice frost over what was once a beautiful family
Yes
Their love was very peculiar, to say the least
But that was the love I was taught
So in daycare when the beautiful hazel-eyed, tall boy with the pretty name, made fun of me, with my childish body, protruding stomach, awkwardly cut hair and all, I saw that as love
In 3rd grade when the three girls in my class would gawk at me and tell me how I looked like the mahogany bark outside our windows, I saw love
In 6th grade when I made my first friend and she decided she wouldn't speak to me if I didn't get her a spork from the lunchline, I saw that as love
In 10th grade when a boy confused me so much that I would come and cry every night simply because he never made himself clear with his feelings, I saw love
In freshman year of college, when my English group mate leered at my body and grabbed me by my arm and smiled at me with his beady eyes, I saw love
On December 6, when I decided to make red rivers run wild on my wrists and test out the potency of those little white pills, I saw love
But then I stopped seeing it
I stopped seeing love, when I woke up to my crying mother,sisters, and father, tubes hooked up to my arms and the smell of puke and copper rampant in the air
I stopped seeing love when I could no longer shower with coconut shampoo because it reminded me of the Malibu I downed with the pills
I stopped seeing love when my big sister, my savior and idol, couldn't look me in the face for more than 2 minutes without crying
I stopped seeing love when my mother wouldn't let me lay alone for the first two weeks after I came back
I stopped seeing love when my father couldn't look me in my eye
I stopped seeing love when my little sister, my baby, the kid I was supposed to protect, started treating me like I was made of fine China
I stopped seeing love when despite all of this, I still prayed for a swift and merciful death
So no, I don't think I hate my parents
No
I think I hate myself
Because I do not know what love is
And I'm scared
I never will
YOU ARE READING
Lost In My Head
Poetry"This is something that I hope no one will ever see, because this one thing..... Just this once, I wish to treasure for only me" ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ A book of poetry and prose, and the general musings of my fucked up mind
