You asked me, "What is there to talk about?"
Let's talk about my earliest childhood memory in which my mother is unconscious on the bed
Men rushing in to provide her with oxygen and carrying her out on a stretcher
In which my father kisses me and tells me he has to go now
Let's talk about how those two things snatched away my childhood
Because that night, my mother came close to death, but that did not stop her from turning to drugs to solve her problems
Because my father telling me he had to go was his way of telling me he was dying, I was two
And even though he has taken care of me since his last breath, I've always wondered what it would be like to be able to escape to him, confide in him, find refuge in his arms
Let's talk about the fact that I've seen what alcohol does to families
For my mother, it was a gateway to harder drugs
For my stepfather, it was a gateway to beat my mother as my younger sister and I sat on the stairs watching
For me, it was my temporary escape from all of this pain
Until the day it caused more
Let's talk about the first time I was sexually assaulted at the age of 16
Or the second time at the age of 23
Let's talk about the common denominator... a drunken me
The first, a stranger
And "lucky" for me, a friend intervened
The second, not so lucky me because this was my "friend" or so he called himself such to get closer to his true intentions
That night, he... took my life from me.
Let's talk about how he separated me from my true friend because she was my protector
But not only did he separated me from her,
He separated me from myself.
And it took me a long time to realize it because I tried to push it to the deepest, darkest part of my mind.
But it embraced that darkness and spread throughout my life.
Let's talk about when I was the happiest
Let's talk about the two times I was pregnant
And let's talk about the two times that happiness was snatched away
Actually, let's not talk about that
Because I can talk about everything else, except the thing that brought me closest to death
So let's talk about how I push people away until they are just outside of my reach
So they can't get close enough to see the true me, to see the cracks in the porcelain, or the strings holding up the corners of my mouth
I push people away so they don't see how fucked up I am from growing up too fast, from losing my happiness, from losing myself
Yes, I push people away because every time I let someone close enough to see the real me, they shutter
And leave me with one more crack, one less stitch of string, and one more time wondering why I tried
You want to talk? Let's talk.
Let's talk about the fact that I'm going through life on autopilot and doing things solely out of routine.
That I feel like a shell of the person I used to be.
About the fact that I wish I was dead so that I didn't have to carry this pain on my back like they are broken wings and I canNOT fly!
But I know, I know that me dying would not solve anything.
It will give grief to people I love and a victory to those who tried to break me. But that doesn't stop me from wishing some days that this constant pain would go away, that I can sleep through life because that's the closest I come to relief.
It doesn't stop me from harming myself so that I can control some type of pain being inflicted upon me.
I don't want to die ... I just want the pain to STOP!
Let's talk about the fact that I've lost myself
And I don't know my way back home
About the Creator
Alice Gru
I was mistaken for a porcelain doll when I was younger. That porcelain is now broken and expressed through poetry.
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