It's not poetry, It's not prose. I'm not sure what to call it. Enjoy. |
Who am I? Born into a family full of hate, my life ... my mind, twisted, warped, memories erased. Twenty-two years of my life is warped, to fit this mad woman's scheme. I was born as an excuse, so my mother could get away. My parents were volatile, full of anger and rage. To my grandmother I was given, at the age of three, but the process had already started, before she ever got me. The damage she's done can never be fixed, she took my memories, and replaced them with lies. The things she told me, still echo in my mind: "Your father molested you. Your parents never wanted you. They don't love you. We never wanted you, we just took you out of pity." The lovely phrases that filled my years. I'd come to terms with these things long ago, believing that these hardships are what shaped the person you see today. These things I thought happened, they were never true. My father Never touched me. My parents love me ... dearly. They fought for me... for years and years. That woman warped my life. Took my innocence before I knew what innocence was. She took all that was good in me, and turned it upside down. For her own gain.... For reasons I can never understand. I can't wrap my head around why a person would do this.. To anyone... especially a child. An innocent. Some one who has nothing but hopes and dreams for their life, but to instantly shut them down until there's nothing left. It leaves me feeling empty and dirty inside. Why would she do that to me? Now, I don't know what to believe. What to think. How can I forgive her? Who am I? What am I? I will appreciate any feedback. The story behind this is... quite the story. Every bit of it true and from my own life. Imagine believing that something horrible happened to you as a very young child, so young that you could never really remember it in the first place. You were just always told and made to believe that your father molested you. Then, twenty two years down the road, you realize that everything was a lie. A blatant, heart wrenching, sickening lie. Everything that you'd come to terms with, that shaped the person you thought you were... or became to be, was based on a lie. I can't fully put into words yet what it feels like to realize that everything I thought I knew about myself was an absolute and utter lie. I'm not quite sure how to handle it, but I feel that writing would be the best outlet. Thank you. |