wall

man and dog

how hurts work (part 2)

so your father had hurt and abused you all your life. you hated him, hated him for everything he had done and did not do. then one day, you packed your bags and left him. your left those unspoken betrayals and hurts that made up what you knew as "your family", you walked away from the silence that made you feel so alone and lonely, as a child, and as an adult. 

years later, you come back to the same place where you were born and have grown up, and you are confronted with a sick, dying man who is your father. he can't remember what he has done to you. he is dying. you look at him, and you feel sorry for him. but that feeling does not erase the fact that he has hurt you all your life. you suddenly realise that he is never going to acknowledge and take responsibility for what he has done. you call out to him, "papa!", and he does not respond anymore. you know then that he will take everything he has done to your brothers and sister to his grave, and that you too, will have to continue burying these hurts, bury them in your own grave when the time comes.

how hurts work

the worst thing to happen to hurts is that the ones who hurt you can't or don't want to acknowledge or remember that they have hurt you. they move on, uninterested in how you feel, and they may even tell you that you're a nut case if you do bring the matters up. they want you to think that everything is your own doing, that it is the result of your screwed up mind conjuring the damages. they are innocent so long they don't remember what they have done. so you carry the hurts, you hold on to the hurts, afraid that once you let go of them you're letting go of a reality that is so important to you. you're afraid that if you forget them you're losing that sense of who you are. so you carry them so deep within you that you start feeling yourself disappearing. slowly you start to think that what  they say about you are right. that everything you feel - all the disappointment and sadness and anger, are all your own imagination. you start to believe that perhaps you are mad. perhaps you are mad.

St John's wort

husband

the alcoholic play

untitled paintings

the dress that saved her

the cat