Healing
I have committed a crime, my inner little girl shot a man or two.
I don't remember carrying my tears to my bed, only waking the next day when the girl who cried daddy knocked at my door, asked if I could come out and play.
Unsafe and unwanted, The child within remembers. She remembers the pain, the suffering, Shutting down, disconnecting, scared, and All she is trying to do now is play. She begins to believe she too gets to be Safe, free, and loved, while playing.
Now when I look at her, that same girl, with a busted heart and mind, I wonder: if when she shot was she shooting the boyfriend who abused her for nothing or was it her dad after a life long absence ?
But I realize it may not even be the same girl, though I want it to be.
Only when she talks to them, they talk back. Her heart swells lacking love like ovaries lacking hormones.
Do they know what's become of her ?
Do they know me ?
She is me and i am her.
The partner hits and shoves,
With his words feeling like 365 punches.
The father ignores and leaves,
With his eternal vacancy leaving a big void for the partner to fill. It's like they they are colleagues but enemies.
This couldn't hurt the little girl more, she tries not to cry, she tries to play to hide the pain, knowing damn well that the partner is the one winning the real game, without even playing, and the father doesn't even know there is a game of life at stake.
To her, he's perfect, but to me, he's so vain.
To him she's an anger thirst quenching tool, but to him, i am a void filling memory.
Each time she fell, i ask myself why do keep I going through this hell.
Shedding tears for him, the little girl's innocence turned to grim expressions and yet, she only comes to play sometimes, never fully leaves, never lets me embrace her because leaving him would tare her appart.
So I walk off and try to mend her broken heart with a little play game, and tell her it's okay if she shot them.
For some reason I think if she kills that man, if he bleeds to death,
somehow the brief triumph of metal over flesh would rid my memory of her most painful flashes, and its long shout in the night. But is killing him enough to survive ? Or it would take killing her to thrive ?
Do i mind doing that to a child ? Is that a mild punishment or a wild thought ?
Too many question because of what she brought. She brought memories that i wouldn't like to resuscitate, memories of death, deaths of memories or maybe just one deadly memory. The memory of who she was, and what she grew to become.
She is me and i am her.
I will heal by raising her. Healthy parents would be teaching her it is okay to share with your loved ones. No one is going to juge you, no one is going to hurt you. Be yourself, be spontaneous, love people, let people love you...
But that is a lie, the truth is, everyone is going to hurt you. But only as much as you allow them to.
