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Rough draft written on 28 March 2010
It’s difficult for me to trust people, especially people I instinctually feel I should—family. Undressing before a twisted grin and hours of lost darkness with my great grandfather is my youngest memory.
At a point, three more individuals began to take turns at my body. A short time later my birth mother figured it out, on several occasions witnessing my captors leading their prisoner to Hell. All the while she said and did nothing. She picked at me for it then and calls me a liar today, yet has an immense curiosity in what all lies I have spread.
What sick & sane person would wish to hear such horrendous lies evidently in accusation of themselves? Or perhaps, and the truth is grave-ridden here, she seeks what truths I have told that she has attempted desperately to cleverly disguise as lies so that she may better cloak the rest of what I haven’t yet told the world in invisibility. Hardly.
Aside from trust, holding on to self-worth from my obvious (re)collection of reduction to the V is a prominent difficulty. The one I felt by a subconsciously assumed mutual instinct should care for me most, harbors a malicious desire to constantly belittle and subsequently dispatch me in finite time. She wouldn’t protect my then-virgin body of all the things she could’ve, how could I gravitationally take pride in myself without an outside force? My body has always been the prison from the very first particle of dark matter I know exists but cannot see.
This is the inescapable womb of a black hole that has swallowed me ad infinitum. Someone’s going to have to push me out, and maybe it’s me. We don’t know what triggers labor. All I’m sure of is my inescapability of responsibility for what I hope was this unplanned pregnancy. I wish someone had protected me from the egg, because the only life I’ve ever received from you Lisa Marie Kaufmann is your mitochondria.
4 comments:
Hold on, I'm going to make a comment after I look up a couple dozen words in the dictionary...
Nice post.
Nice vernacular.
Sometimes, we as humans, do not understand why we do things. Yes, things could have been different, but reliving this pain just adds to your pain. Sometimes there are others of us who went through similar things. I had forgotten some moments in my youth that I guess I blocked out of my mind. While speaking to someone about what happened to them, my memories all came back, yes, I had been molested more than once in my childhood also. No one ever knew, I was too afraid to speak up because of who they were. To this day I have never spoke the names of those who took my childhood away from me. Maybe that is why I was always a loner. But, the blame is on no one. There are many sick people in this world, some only for a short while, others for much longer. Don't you think it is time to let go and go forward with your amazing person that you are? No one would have believed me anyway. If you carry your past with so much passion, you will never be happy. There comes a time in all our lives when we have to put the past in the past and live for the zest of life, and we need to learn how to forgive. You have a wonderful future, why waste time in the past?
Wow, that's a rough. But (at my age I can get away with this) you're young, and you are saying what you think, and you will get past this.
cheers from sunny Vienna, zilch
@ Mormon Bachelor Pad: Funnily, I had to look up vernacular. :) Thanks for reading, too.
@ zilch: Thank you for reading. I will get past this, thank you more for the encouragement. :)
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