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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: June 15, 2019

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 14, 2019



It's all overwhelming.

The sound of your voice, the blurring vision of you.

For years at a time, we both knew that I wanted nothing to do with you.

Your consistent pleads for us to be something that we have never been.

That mother daughter relationship you claim to have always wanted but only seemed to neglect it.

Neglect me.

But you were "sick", that's what everyone kept saying.

But no one stopped to think if I was sick.

Sick of the loneliness. Sick of the heartache.

Sick of getting hit, scratched and slapped by your mother.

Sick of being at school and seeing everyone with their mother and father which brings me to that point.

Who is he?

Who is the other half that made me whole?

Do I look like him or do you even know?

Empty memories of what I picture him to be is all I have.

A glimpse. A glance. A picture from the past.


I suffer everyday in silence because those around me have no clue of that I've been through.

They see my smile, hear my laugh, see my "pretty" face and they assume my life is a blast.

It's all a show to see who stands last.

Let's be clear, I grew up with the piss in the hallways, the addicts on the corner, the pervs by the gates and my own horrors behind my door.

The suicide notes were a real thing, granted they are probably where I left them.

Yes, to the point I was pushed, almost past the line where I wouldn't return.

But that voice.

That power that grew within me, speaking to me softly while gently guiding me to keep my life as my own.

Even to this day I question a lot of things.

You know those "what if" moments?

What if my mother were there right beside my father cheering me on with every decision whether ending up right or wrong?

What if I were spoiled and didn't have to work for anything?

What if I never had to lift a finger and I was just as privileged as most of you reading this?

Now don't take offense to that, again it's a "what if."

I think it would be quite a mess having everything you thought you needed to have.

I say this because without the absence of my parents, the neglect and abuse from my grandparents , the struggles of being a early developed teen running to escape the hands of a predator, the bullying at school, the lies swarming around my head, the bitterness resting on my tongue, sweaty and shaky hands, heart heavy with fear, blade to my throat, the flow of tears, the voice of the only one who cared and has now cured.

I would not be here.

I would not be me.

I would not be this strong, independent warrior without all of the flaws that make me seen.




© Copyright 2020 Imrie. All rights reserved.

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