my brain would like to rest. that was a long run over broken glass. traveling back in time, channeling myself. my younger self, only three then, powerless, not knowing how wrong it was, only that it hurt. insane monster, slobbering, raging. hollow monster, nothing to hold onto. almost, at times, but often only grabbing at a ghostly form.
dad. and mom.
i waited 20 years to tell this tale to him. the tale of the magnets and the belt. i'll tell you, soon. i would never hurt him like that. no, not the actions; i mean just the knowledge of what was done to me. how horrific is that?
i had only given him hints until now. a bad childhood. allusions to a brother i no longer had.
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