sunday_reveries a quote prompt
4. Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, sometimes she loved me too.
-Pablo Neruda
His mother had loved him once, he was sure of it.
He liked to imagine that before the drugs got to her, she was some sort of super mom. He liked to imagine that she got him band-aids when he needed them, that she kissed him when he got hurt and she made him cookies. Not that pre-packaged crap that you can get in a store but the real, home made kind. The kind that was so gooey and moist that they just melted on your tongue.
That's what he liked to imagine.
It was better to think nice thoughts than to remember the belt lashings that came down on his back and tore his skin apart. He liked to imagine sweet cooing and loving pats on the head instead of slaps upside the head that came with the screams that he had ruined her life.
Fuck her. It was the drugs and the alcohol that ruined her, not him. He was the best thing she ever did and he got out before she could ruin him just as badly.
He told himself he'd never be that cruel to anyone else, not in his family.
So he found other kids like him and they pulled together. Sure, there was still screaming and fighting but he liked to think he didn't make them feel worthless. He wanted them to know they were worthy of his love, that he had a lot he could offer even if his mother's cries that he would never amount to anything still rang in his ears.
When Tabby showed up, he let her soothe his wounds and distract him. But he wasn't good enough for her either. She didn't need to scream it at him, he could see it in her eyes and somehow that was worse than the slaps. He knew she was going to leave him eventually because she wasn't the type to stay.
But he loved her and sometimes he could make believe she loved him too.
But this wasn't some fairy tale like Jade talked about because this was the real world and happy endings didn't happen here.
I loved her, sometimes she loved me too.
-Pablo Neruda
His mother had loved him once, he was sure of it.
He liked to imagine that before the drugs got to her, she was some sort of super mom. He liked to imagine that she got him band-aids when he needed them, that she kissed him when he got hurt and she made him cookies. Not that pre-packaged crap that you can get in a store but the real, home made kind. The kind that was so gooey and moist that they just melted on your tongue.
That's what he liked to imagine.
It was better to think nice thoughts than to remember the belt lashings that came down on his back and tore his skin apart. He liked to imagine sweet cooing and loving pats on the head instead of slaps upside the head that came with the screams that he had ruined her life.
Fuck her. It was the drugs and the alcohol that ruined her, not him. He was the best thing she ever did and he got out before she could ruin him just as badly.
He told himself he'd never be that cruel to anyone else, not in his family.
So he found other kids like him and they pulled together. Sure, there was still screaming and fighting but he liked to think he didn't make them feel worthless. He wanted them to know they were worthy of his love, that he had a lot he could offer even if his mother's cries that he would never amount to anything still rang in his ears.
When Tabby showed up, he let her soothe his wounds and distract him. But he wasn't good enough for her either. She didn't need to scream it at him, he could see it in her eyes and somehow that was worse than the slaps. He knew she was going to leave him eventually because she wasn't the type to stay.
But he loved her and sometimes he could make believe she loved him too.
But this wasn't some fairy tale like Jade talked about because this was the real world and happy endings didn't happen here.