I can’t lie. I wish things were different. I wish
I had….no. I don’t wish I had a different life. Why wish for someone else’s
problems. We all have problems. They’re all significant to us. We can get past
some. Others follow us like a shadow, while we’re eclipsed by the disappointing
truth about those we’re groomed to love. Love inspires so much. Love asks you be
patient. Love begs of you to trust in time and forget circumstance. Love demands
blinders to block out the trivial, so you can stay true and dear. But what
happens when you run out of love? I think It’s possible. Why stay blind, and
patient, and unconditional for those who don’t deserve it. Maybe the absence of
love is what will force some to change. It’s funny how parents can go from
having no love, and that making them harsh, to having kids that love them and
they earn the right to lose it. Why not start over with your family? Why not
embrace and accept what God has given your children to give to you? Why not
start over for you and give your all in a new worthwhile experience for them?
Why not?
I’m tired of selfish parents, selfish fathers. I
just now realize I’m carrying around the burden of disappoint, the burden of
pain, the burden of my past. This is not on purpose, for it’s my nature to
pretend to avoid and evade issues. But this has me wondering how much my past
has influenced my coping mechanisms, and how messed up this really has made me
in handling my issues.
I’m mad at my dad. He has disappointed me the
most. Right now it’s a tie between him and my mother. My mother should know
better, but my father could’ve changed. I don’t know how I’m supposed to face
this earth with the two people who created me being so…difficult to
manage.
I’m tired of asking the “why”s. Why couldn’t you
be there? Why couldn’t you care more? Why couldn’t you love
more?
I have been deprived of love where I needed it
most growing up. And that, that makes me ANGRY. It makes me almost resentful.
It’s only the grace of God that keeps me from crossing that line form temporary
feeling to state of being and dwelling. But, I’m angry. I don’t know who to
blame, or what to do. I don’t know if my mother, or my grandparents, will ever
be able to understand how ANGRY I am towards my father. How I hurt inside and
harbor so many wounds, so many unhealed scars from my entire childhood. WHY? Why
wasn’t I enough for you to change? And I may never receive an answer to this
question. But I am to grow up with this hole inside of me that many believe can
be so easily filled. A father’s love and companionship is something that cannot
be replaced. It is a separate love all its own from a mother’s love. Love is not
just LOVE.
There ARE labels on the
love that the heart receives and welcomes and yearns for. Love that the heart
shouldn’t ever have to beg and plead for, but in the circumstances of my family,
it just does. You’d think my heart was born with a hole in it. Most days I wish
it were, because it would be easier. I wouldn’t expect anything. I’d be used to
the hallow wind and faint sounds of emptiness brewing within. But when you’re
born with a full heart, expecting it to be filled every day of your life until
the day you die with everlasting parental love, and it’s not…you will forever
have to place artificial fillings into the spaces that pop up. You learn to cope
or to manage, like any maintenance person would do with an abandoned
building…but nothing is ever really running efficiently. No one’s tried to come
home, and the lights have never been turned on.
I’m scared for my brother…I don’t know what his
story will make of him. I don’t know if he is already being made into this
strong fighter; the same fighter I eventually have become. I wonder if when I
was eleven, people looked at me like“this girl has been through so much…man she
is a fighter, a warrior.” It’s hard being the strong one. But the benefit of it
is that you never crumble. EVER. Even when you begin to doubt yourself. Fuck
when others doubt you, they do it all the time. But when you are wondering if
you will waver, and find out that you do not and will not and cannot, then you
realize you were wither built, or molded out of some remarkable thread; an
unbreakable clay that even the confounds of earth and life couldn’t shatter. It
doesn’t make life easier, but it makes you stronger in dealing with
it.
I had….no. I don’t wish I had a different life. Why wish for someone else’s
problems. We all have problems. They’re all significant to us. We can get past
some. Others follow us like a shadow, while we’re eclipsed by the disappointing
truth about those we’re groomed to love. Love inspires so much. Love asks you be
patient. Love begs of you to trust in time and forget circumstance. Love demands
blinders to block out the trivial, so you can stay true and dear. But what
happens when you run out of love? I think It’s possible. Why stay blind, and
patient, and unconditional for those who don’t deserve it. Maybe the absence of
love is what will force some to change. It’s funny how parents can go from
having no love, and that making them harsh, to having kids that love them and
they earn the right to lose it. Why not start over with your family? Why not
embrace and accept what God has given your children to give to you? Why not
start over for you and give your all in a new worthwhile experience for them?
Why not?
I’m tired of selfish parents, selfish fathers. I
just now realize I’m carrying around the burden of disappoint, the burden of
pain, the burden of my past. This is not on purpose, for it’s my nature to
pretend to avoid and evade issues. But this has me wondering how much my past
has influenced my coping mechanisms, and how messed up this really has made me
in handling my issues.
I’m mad at my dad. He has disappointed me the
most. Right now it’s a tie between him and my mother. My mother should know
better, but my father could’ve changed. I don’t know how I’m supposed to face
this earth with the two people who created me being so…difficult to
manage.
I’m tired of asking the “why”s. Why couldn’t you
be there? Why couldn’t you care more? Why couldn’t you love
more?
I have been deprived of love where I needed it
most growing up. And that, that makes me ANGRY. It makes me almost resentful.
It’s only the grace of God that keeps me from crossing that line form temporary
feeling to state of being and dwelling. But, I’m angry. I don’t know who to
blame, or what to do. I don’t know if my mother, or my grandparents, will ever
be able to understand how ANGRY I am towards my father. How I hurt inside and
harbor so many wounds, so many unhealed scars from my entire childhood. WHY? Why
wasn’t I enough for you to change? And I may never receive an answer to this
question. But I am to grow up with this hole inside of me that many believe can
be so easily filled. A father’s love and companionship is something that cannot
be replaced. It is a separate love all its own from a mother’s love. Love is not
just LOVE.
There ARE labels on the
love that the heart receives and welcomes and yearns for. Love that the heart
shouldn’t ever have to beg and plead for, but in the circumstances of my family,
it just does. You’d think my heart was born with a hole in it. Most days I wish
it were, because it would be easier. I wouldn’t expect anything. I’d be used to
the hallow wind and faint sounds of emptiness brewing within. But when you’re
born with a full heart, expecting it to be filled every day of your life until
the day you die with everlasting parental love, and it’s not…you will forever
have to place artificial fillings into the spaces that pop up. You learn to cope
or to manage, like any maintenance person would do with an abandoned
building…but nothing is ever really running efficiently. No one’s tried to come
home, and the lights have never been turned on.
I’m scared for my brother…I don’t know what his
story will make of him. I don’t know if he is already being made into this
strong fighter; the same fighter I eventually have become. I wonder if when I
was eleven, people looked at me like“this girl has been through so much…man she
is a fighter, a warrior.” It’s hard being the strong one. But the benefit of it
is that you never crumble. EVER. Even when you begin to doubt yourself. Fuck
when others doubt you, they do it all the time. But when you are wondering if
you will waver, and find out that you do not and will not and cannot, then you
realize you were wither built, or molded out of some remarkable thread; an
unbreakable clay that even the confounds of earth and life couldn’t shatter. It
doesn’t make life easier, but it makes you stronger in dealing with
it.