Sometimes all I ask for is a little parental love. To just appreciate the fact that I tried so hard to please the both of you. That I didn't just sit down and wait for you to pick up the pieces. I've shed a lot of blood for you. Taken a lot of blows, bruises, marks- some that have gone too deep and feasted upon my soul. Sometimes it's easier to say, 'I hate you,' and really mean it. Because I can't love you. I don't know how. It's the same as you not knowing what love is, what joy it brings to have a child that tries so hard to make you happy. It's the same as every word you utter, so full of pride and hate. How I can imagine you sneer, 'You're not good enough.'

I could just plead, sit in the rain and ask you,
'Why won't you love me?'

I wish I was human in your eyes. I am not some trophy to bring you fame and glory. I'm not some tool you use to cover your imperfections. I am kind. I am noble. I am a good friend.

I am not just Ana. I am not one of your daughters. I am not one of your children you don't even know the age of. I am not someone you could brainwash to live your dreams for you.

Is it so hard? It is easier to screw up my life like that, was it easier to stomp all over my self-esteem and self-worth as if it meant nothing to you? I have blamed myself for everything, ask myself why, how did it amount to this. Was it you? The words, the shoe thrown at me, the abuse. Was it you?

'Why won't you love me?'

Labels: depressing, listless, mental disorders