I have a fear of mothers that stems from my own.
Something in me says my mother once had the same fear.
She grew up fearing femininity the same way I do and yet she has bore more children than most.
Am I to suffer the same fate?
Fear what defines my womanhood to only succumb to my nature of wanting to bare children? Will the ache in my womb and my empty arms eat me alive until so?
Will my resentment build strong enough for me to hold back? To break the generational curse of motherhood?
Will I regret it?
Will my aching aged hands press against my barren stomach and sigh at what I chose to lose?
To give life.. to live my own.. to live for another..
I wish I could know what will become of me.
YOU ARE READING
Dark skinned Dreams
RandomJust trying to find myself and my place. Just trying to find peace. People told me I should make a diary and this is it. It's all personal thoughts and feelings I hope that I'm not alone in feeling. Major trigger warning ahead.
