so maybe i lied when i said you couldnt know me any better
I remember how when i was little we would get into fights over something stupid. simple everyday objects suddenly seemed so deadly and hurtful when theyre were in your hands. i remember the hard wood of the hanger crashing against my nose and the warm salty drip of blood from my nose gushing out and across my winnie the pooh sheets. the sheets i was hiding under. the sheets i got even more mad at you about because you got my blood ALL OVER them. seeing my blood across my clean white winnie the pooh sheets infuriated me even more.
but evenmore than that i was scared.
i remember licking the taste of salty tears and blood of my dry lips. i remember crying to sleep and waking up with dried blood hard against my skin and brown against my sheets.
i remember the time where i wasa little bit older. when you didnt make me bleed with your own hands anymore but how i made me bleed from my own hands. i must have learned from the best.
i remember how one night you took the wooden handle of my brush and my hair into your hands. no, you didnt lovingly brush it like mothiers. you yanked my hair and hope from me as you smacked the brush against my skull. then you grabbed the blow dryer and slammed it not only agianst my skull but against my face this time as well. i remember bleeding again.
then you went to the broom closet [how fitting for a witch] and pulling out the brooming and slamming it against my legs making me buckle over and onto the wooden floors. i liked how the wood felt cold against my hot, wet and flushed cheeks. i remember the swift and not so steady strokes against my sides.
i couldnt breathe.
but thankfully, you were nice enough to let me breathe again mother. you know, catch my breath from the hitting by aiming towards my head instead.
i remmeber the time the anger took over and i forgot back and i hit you back with the same force you gave me.
and then i remember regretting it once i felt the old taste of my blood in my mouth once again.
thank you. from you ive learned how to handle and take in more pain into my heart than ever possible.
and im sorry. to you, and to hamish, james, and maybe justin, and ben or whoever i may have disappointed or let down or been mean to as of late.
but especially to you hamish for forgetting your 21st birthday/
but evenmore than that i was scared.
i remember licking the taste of salty tears and blood of my dry lips. i remember crying to sleep and waking up with dried blood hard against my skin and brown against my sheets.
i remember the time where i wasa little bit older. when you didnt make me bleed with your own hands anymore but how i made me bleed from my own hands. i must have learned from the best.
i remember how one night you took the wooden handle of my brush and my hair into your hands. no, you didnt lovingly brush it like mothiers. you yanked my hair and hope from me as you smacked the brush against my skull. then you grabbed the blow dryer and slammed it not only agianst my skull but against my face this time as well. i remember bleeding again.
then you went to the broom closet [how fitting for a witch] and pulling out the brooming and slamming it against my legs making me buckle over and onto the wooden floors. i liked how the wood felt cold against my hot, wet and flushed cheeks. i remember the swift and not so steady strokes against my sides.
i couldnt breathe.
but thankfully, you were nice enough to let me breathe again mother. you know, catch my breath from the hitting by aiming towards my head instead.
i remmeber the time the anger took over and i forgot back and i hit you back with the same force you gave me.
and then i remember regretting it once i felt the old taste of my blood in my mouth once again.
thank you. from you ive learned how to handle and take in more pain into my heart than ever possible.
and im sorry. to you, and to hamish, james, and maybe justin, and ben or whoever i may have disappointed or let down or been mean to as of late.
but especially to you hamish for forgetting your 21st birthday/