My tiredness causes me to feel weary, a sense of not being alive. I don't remember if there was ever a time where I did feel alive, and if there was a time, what it was like
He keeps his liquor on the top shelf
A week later, he invites me over
Every bottle of heavy alcohol is vacant with a place still cleared for where it once sat.
He is in his room,
I haven't seen him for a couple of hours
I wonder if he is drinking away his pain
I wonder
If the company of my depressed little brother and i
Is not enough to remind him
Not to take another sip
It is not that I don't want to be my father's daughter
It is that I am afraid to be.
I was taught to trust my instincts and that is how I know you are lying
We fell apart, quickly, and painfully. I knew it would happen eventually, I just didn't expect it to be so suddenly, or so fast.
The ceiling is so high, i feel disconnected from humanity.
Hands are my favourite thing to draw, they are the result of my pain. They are the art of doing and the power that can't be undone. I can still feel my mother's hands gripped around my neck. I can still feel the fist to my gut, the push on my shoulders, the grab on my wrist, the pull on my hair, the hands throwing me across the room, the hands feeling me purely for pleasure. I can still feel every hand that abused me. People wonder why i don't like physical contact. I don't want their hands to hurt me too.
I have been mentally abused
Physically abused
Sexually abused
The abused
And the abuser.
This trauma has made me angry
Not at the abusive
But at myself.
Trauma that made me feel worthless
To the point where i abused myself too
To the point where i scarred my skin
Faintly
But still scarred.
To the point where I hospitalized myself
Not fatal
But still hospitalized.
Pain is NOT beautiful.
But I have the power
To turn it into something
That is.
Mother,
You were created with hands
So you could spin
The gold from your heart
So why can i still feel them
With rage around my neck?
They could both feel it, two young inspired minds filling an empty room with their potential. It was exhilarating, powerful, something beautiful, something beyond the washed out life they were living. For the first time, they saw the world with a profound perspective and their eyes shone so bright that for the first time, the world finally saw them.
I was born 17 years ago, but today, I have finally come alive.
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