A Fraction of Fiction

And remind me who I really am

Please remind me who I really am
 

At the point of escalation I remembered that I'd be free soon.

So I took a deep breath and walked away.

I had dinner plans. I didn't want to arrive late, looking like a wreck.
Sometimes when I envision her living alone in future I feel a little... pain.

Is it sympathy I have? Or some love for my mother still resides in me?

 

You know how people often quote "forgive but never forget".

I find them silly. I have always done the opposite. Forgive and forget.

 

Not when it comes to her.

For both Punkie and I I believe our childhood's like a pile of skeletons in the closet.

We don't bring it up unnecessarily though yes it's all still there.

How do you forgive someone who cursed at your father every day for years with no good reason.

How do you forgive someone who challenged your sister (squatting by the window in angry tears) 

to 'go ahead and jump, you're worthless anyway'. She was only 13 or so then.

How do you forgive someone who regularly attempted suicide in the midst of quarrels,

in many different ways, putting the whole family in distress and sometimes danger?
 

Fine if you were to tell me forgiving is a decision. I should try harder, and I will.

To forget isn't.

How do you forget first-hand incidents over an extended period, in fact, 16 years of life?
We were afterall just children, in the primetime of memory.

How do you forget the one reason why you will never be able to enjoy a family day again?

 

Our closest relatives applaude us.
They tell us we have grown up well-balanced in spite of everything.

We have not turned out to be selfish, psychotic, spiteful, emotionally angsty adults.

I cannot speak for Punkie and Daddypops since they left this 'home' a long time ago.

But I believe they are the happiest right now. I see the glow on their faces.

 

I hope I get there soon enough. I hope I get there in time.

Punkie put it very bluntly, "If you don't love her, you wouldn't see her as a mother,

you wouldn't be hurt by her words and actions.
You gotta stop expecting her to act like a mother. You gotta stop loving her."

Punkie's filial, but she doesn't love our mother.

I think I am finally close to understanding what it means to sit and stare,

listen to her (the person you are supposed to love) nitpick, shout and scream horrible things...

and feel detached, almost like it's nothing.

Writing indeed clears my stuffy heart.

I couldn't focus on studying, not one bit.

I shall sleep now. Need to wake up to a better tomorrow.

 

And remind me who I really am
Please remind me who I really am