Welcome Home Neglectorinos!

Through my writing I plan to explore the relationship I have with myself

It’s fucked up and broken.

But then so am I.

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If only you could see.

I wonder why I was never good enough for you.

Why I’m still not.

I wonder how you can turn your back on me

How you can parade your mocking and judgement as love?

You throw your hands in the air.

“She just won’t do as I say”

And then you turn away.

Your love is conditional.

Do you know that?

You only love me when I’m not a challenge.

And I always am.

Aren’t I?

What’s your dream?

I’m not living my dream.

I’m not living it because I am broken.

I don’t know what life looks like, to not be broken.

What’s my dream?

My dream is to be ok.

Is that a thing I can live?

Can I live at being ok?

Can I fake it?  Should I?

Is that what everyone else does?

Really, is that what the rest of the world is doing?

Just faking it till they make it?

Is that how one feels fulfilled?

That seems empty.  And I am already empty.

Empty and full, all at once.

Inside

It’s hard, isn’t it?

To be good.  To work on yourself.  To not judge.

To be patient and kind.

To always be thinking.

To second guess.  To fall down.

And get back up.

And hope that with every passing year you’re just that little bit better.

I hope, before I die, I am fixed.

That’s where I want to be.

I want to know the things I don’t know now.

I want to understand

And find peace.

Wound wound wounded

Why do I do the things I do?

Why do I lash out?  Why does a switch get flicked and someone else inside me takes over?
Who is she, that dark angry creature?  She hates you and she hurts you.  And I am ashamed.  She could burn the world, burn it to the ground and walk across charred bones with no remorse.  She is empty and yet she spews vile rage, painting everyone in her path with sorrow and bitterness.

She lives inside of me, that person.  She is angry.  She thinks she hates you.  She is all the things I never say.  All the things that bother me that I push away, because nice people don’t say that.  They don’t comment on every little thing that irritates them.  And yet I could, and if I did I’d never stop talking.  And who wants to live with someone like that?

When you’re damaged, you have to try harder to be a good person.  Your default  setting is often one of defence and retaliation.  So you have to try harder, to stay positive, to make better choices.

I try so hard.
And it’s exhausting.

 

Mommie Dearest

When you’re the mother

And I am the competition

All you wanted was for me to go away

All you wanted was to mock and humiliate

To make me small.

But I was already small.

You thought I took something away from you.

I stole your shine.  I stole your limelight.

But I never wanted it.

I never wanted yours.

I just wanted my own small piece.

You hate me, you know?

You can’t even see it

Because you’re trying to be good.

Trying to be enlightened.

But you can’t be enlightened

If you never expose yourself to the dark.

Today

Today I am absent.  Avoiding.  I feel myself sitting back, behind my eyes, looking out.  Not feeling, not thinking.  Just nothing.

If you could see me, you would not.  I am blank, inside and out.  I am washed away, like a stain on the sand.  Like a splash of blood.

When I am nothing, then there is nothing and I can be ok.  I can pretend that the world and its hurt (my hurt) does not exist.

It cannot impact me.

And I’ll be fine.

In the night. In the dark.

Some wounds go deep.  They burrow down and take root in the mud and mire of life’s little pains.

They are wounds that we glimpse out of the corner of our eye, like a ghost or a shadow.

They are the thing we pretend is not there.

They are the wounds that twist fear in our stomachs, way down in the dark of our being.

Just a flash.

Ooops, there’s a thing I should be looking at, working on.

Abandonment. Resentment. Neglect.  Abuse.

These things scar us, and direct us.  They take us on a journey whether we look at them or not.

They are in us.  They are us.