October 1, 2016

When I was younger I used to create this beautiful universe in my head, a world filled with magic,peace,and happieness. This beautfiul place was the only way to get rid of the relaity I faced everyday, and the only thing I have to show for the torments are scars and memories I keep with me. I still hear the voices in my head, someitmes they sound like little whispers and they fade away, but other times they scream and linger. I even remeber how cold his hands were,how they were always cold when his hands when they touched me. I also rember how cautiously he would hover over me, making sure not to make any sudden movements towards me when my dear mother was around. I can still see my fathers face when I close my eyes, I can see the hostilty in his eyes, and hear the animosity in his voice when I told him to stop. Even when the tears would fall dwon my cheeks he would keep going, never stopping, and never listening. After a while it didnt hurt as much, I got used to the pain and hurt, but even now I can still feel everything that was happening, I can still remeber the thoughts that spun around my mind. I remember making sure before I went to bed he would not be the last thing I saw, I made sure he wouldnt be the last visbile face I went to bed thinking of. Now I know I should have changed things, I wished I told someone, but I always told myslef I didnt want anyone to see him diffrenlty, I didnt want my mother to alter the way she looked at him with love in her eyes. I guess in a way I was trying to protect everyone, I was trying to spare them, but now that I look back on it... who was trying to protect me? Somtimes I still have the hatered  I felt when I was younger, but sadness is what over takes the hate. I feel sadness for my mother who couldnt see agony I had, I feel sadness for my father who couldnt love his daughter the way a dad was supposed too, and I feel sadness for not having enough courage to speak. Now all I have left are hauting memories that replay like a broken record in my head, and the scars I trace with my fingers time to time, and sometimes I have that beautiful place with me when I need it.

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