This is a funny blog post to be writing, its a weird blog post to be writing. Words have been my whole life, I thrive on words, they give me life. Yet I can remember being a little and making noises trying to indicate my frustration, that I wanted help. I was alway yelled at when I final let out that guttural scream of I quit. If you needed help why didn't you ask for it? I thought I was asking for it? I thought the fact that I was visibly getting more and more agitated was proof. From then on I learned to put all of my faith in words.
Words are the only way that my parents told me they loved me, because their actions never showed it. And the older I've gotten the more their actions have shown contempt and dislike for me. And it hurts, because I can't survive. I am broken.
And yet I'm fighting, I'm always fighting. I'm bloody determined to beat this thing. But I've been fighting the wrong ways, I've been fighting to make others achieve things for me, and it just doesn't work that way. It never will work that way.
And then sometimes I turn around and I see all that I have lacked is standing there right beside me. And I want to fall down and weep because I don't know how to show that I understand. I dont know how to show. So I wrote this. Now I have to act it.
No comments:
Post a Comment