I don't believe in fairy tales, I don't believe in happy ever afters and I most certainly don't believe in men. Ever since I can remember, they have always treated me badly; I've been beaten down, bruised, crushed and left for granted. And for what I can see, the women in my family have had bad experiences as well, considering that my grandfather never loved my grandmother, my father cheated on my mother and left when I was only eight years old, my uncle abuses towards me, my brothers displeasures caused by me and countless of other abominations that I rather not speak. Although, I can say that I consider myself lucky, since not only men seem to hate me; my mother hates everything about me and doesn't want anything to do with me, she disposes me in any way that she can. But what can I say? I mean, I must be the problem, right? I guess that the guy who achieves to conquer the walls I've built, is truly a miracle worker. That is if I let him get near me.
My life has been an intense journey from a little girl who was beaten down and abused into believing that she was worthless, to a woman at 43 years of age who is still desperately searching for who she truly is. I found her though. I did. And she writes like me, from inside of me. She is me. This girl that I've been in love with since time first existed, is indeed me. The way that she walks. With her hands... and how she talks? The hearts that she's captured, the souls that she has inspired. I'm now trying to be her. I've never felt that I was good enough to actually be myself!!! I always knew how pure and clear and free I was inside. But people told me otherwise, in a very cruel way. No one ever spared my feelings or thought to speak to me with kindness or love. My parents were very serious and strict people. They believed that there was only 1 way to act and inside I knew that I did NOT fit in the parameters of the behavior expected of me. And every single time I made my Step Daddy sigh or frown it felt like I knife in my heart. I was a let down. Always too loud. Always moving too much. Always too fat and always too ugly. Always too much. Unless I sat quietly. But I've always been a firecracker and all of that containment really made me want to blow off! All of what was inside of me, swirling and dividing in me. Burying the side of me that I loved the most! I was a bastard and a blasphemy. Harsh words for a girl of 3. They said them when they baptized me.