Today, I thought about dad… which is rather strange, as I never think about him. Somewhere in my consciousness I imprisoned his memory and only thought of him when I saw him. What was even more ironic was the fact that i have a picture of him in my purse, yet, everyday that I opened it, I never saw him.
Every time that I thought about him I returned to the days of fourteen, when I began to wonder, what was it I had done that he hated me so… sigh, thinking of dad always brought up the worst memories; of the worst times; of the worst treatment and the worst bruises, which resulted in the worst scars.
People always say that you shouldn’t air your dirty laundry in the streets, yet, out in the open was where you got the most air to- breathe. I DO NOT seek PITY or COMPASSION. I seek only closure. I seek an end to the pain and the emotional roller coaster i seek and end to the fear that has kept me in bondage from that very tender age. the stifling gripping fear that made my heart seem like it was gonna beat out of my chest and into my lap. the fear of living life for me because i knew what he was capable of. Oh how i use to fear dad, we all did… Today even now, i seek relief from the need to rebel and lash out to prove that i am alive. i seek freedom… I seek Equlibrum.
i have a voice dad… i have a story to tell… i don’t mean to hurt u, yet u have hurt me…