(no subject)
When I was about four years old, I spent my nights sleeping in my mother's doorway to fend off the monsters that might come for her.
I know that now, I have sent them in after her.
Monsters come in all shapes and sizes. In my mother's world- sometimes they are doctors.
If this were a fairy tale- love would be enough.
A crazed parent could look into the eyes of their pleading child and be released from their insanity.
Love would be enough to break the curse of craziness
and they would love their child enough to resurface.
I used to think maybe she didn't quite love me enough to resurface.
Maybe love was enough, but my mother just didn't have enough.
Older now, I wonder if it was I instead who never loved enough.