Over and over, repeated re-injury of the senses.
It’s what we had.
Dressed in our despair, bonded by pain.
It’s what we shared.
We twisted and contorted, struggled further to gain control.
It’s how we fought.
Every prick of the conscience drained another abscess.
It’s how we learned.
Giving up was not an option.
It’s how we lived.
The unaddressed haunts the vitality of the future.
A boiling, hot mess of resentment seething right below the surface.
Repetitively protecting the external while the red-hot hatred burns.
The barely suppressed rage remains coiled inside.
Eventually, it will kill you.
45! UGH! SHAME!
You’re a disgraceful being!
They’re CHILDREN!!! HELP THEM!
“Dead family walking!”
The family was chaotic from day one.
They being an absentee, alcoholic father, and a probably-suffering-from-a-mental-illness mother not understanding love.
A child being cheated out of something before her existence had ever really begun.
So many unusual life lessons played out where mediocrity would flourish.
Determined small steps tested the authorities; she tried where she could.
Her willingness to rise above engaged with her persistently in the aftermath of their lives.
She took control of all in her realm, determined to do what was best.
The past is now safely in the rear-view mirror.
Today promised ever-increasing clarity going forward.