love me, love me...

i should distract myself. i should get busy so i don't hear it anymore, that fucking prodding, nudging voice, from so far away, inside, alone in the dark, forever. maybe she will always be there, there's nothing i can do for her, poor child. i have to abandon her, for now anyway, and hope she understands someday, that i had to finally take care of myself. she keeps crying for love and attention, only she is so far gone, quite mad, having been locked away for so long, it will never be enough. she can be soothed for short times, but it causes more trouble than it's worth, and when the soothing leaves, as it always does, having been more interested in quelling its own thirst than any concern for her, she feels worse, so much worse.

i want to be a veterinarian. i always have, but my mother shot that down when i told her, saying that i would have to deal with the pet's owner, knowing i had difficulty with people (that my difficulty was because of her and my father makes this statement so much more evil), in her derisive tone that deflated me. and of course i lost all will, strength, and direction as things progressed, as injuries accrued and complicated each other. if i pursue this, it will be a difficult road, but i want it, and i think i can do it, which is an amazing, though tentative and unusual, feeling for me to have.

i hate you, mommy. i want you to know that. to really know how evil you are. if you had any decency in you, you would throw yourself to the ground in front of me and surrender to the sobbing like a child, realizing the role you played in the destruction of all of your children, and beg my forgiveness, and ask what you could do now to help repair the damage you have done, knowing full well you can't, you can't even begin to make up for what i've suffered because of you. but you never will do that. you never will allow yourself to feel that. and you will die, miserable and alone, sitting in your own filth because no one in this world will take the smallest trouble to care for you, and maybe then it will dawn on you, but i doubt it. i know you were hurt as a child, and i am not unsympathetic, but you chose the wrong way to deal with that. i could have dealt with your pain, with unbalance, but not with the cold you opted for, so that you did not feel the pain so acutely.

and how badly i want to let these feelings go. they fucking hurt! and they will never be appeased, never. they need to be forgotten, i need to truly let it go, and i don't understand this part of me that enjoys the pain of holding onto it, i really don't. i think the part of me that wants to live is becoming stronger, and may be able to direct my energy to a better place, and just grieve them and move on, for they are dead, it is all dead back there, and to drag around this rotting corpse is insane.

i want to put myself back together now. maybe it's not too late, after all.



(i need a good hypnotherapist.

p.s. i really hate gwen stefani. she is all pop and image with no talent, no heart. what she pretends to have is just that, a pretense.)