My stomach hurts.
Is it normal? Or is it because my parents are in the dining room spitting toxicities at each other in the form of exasperated snide comments?
I’m an unwilling witness.
How does he claim to love us but now he’s asking her to pay him back for all he’s given us?
Has that been hanging on his mind? How much he spent on us? I would have been happier believing he gave us all without regret, but truth is important. Better to know who my father is, better later than never.
I’m gladly heartbroken to know. The father I loved was but an illusion. He was a carefully crafted one-way mirror. How merciful, how merciless, it was for him to deceive us for so long. Is a long love that turns out to be fool’s gold better than having the real thing, only for that, too, to go away? Either way, it turns to dust in our hands. I watch it trickle into the brisk wind of life.
I feel sick. My heart feels like it will leap out of my throat. My gut sits like a rock, aching. My memories war with the lies I know now- the words I’ve heard him say. How- do I exist?
I’m not ready for the new horizon.
The pier was ripped out from under me and I’ve been swallowed by the frantic sea.
The current is cruel. I think it will drag me away whether I’m ready or not.
I fear I will forget what the pier looked like- what it felt like under my feet.
Solid. Reassuring.