My mother once told me I had choices.
Which toys did I want?
It feels ridiculous now
because I found out what real choice was.
Let me correct myself,
my mother found out what real choice was.
All memory of my childhood put my mother as the villain.
To this child, discipline was evil.
She was always there,
telling me what was right and what was wrong.
Now I write about how I was so wrong.
Yet how could my mind understand?
I was so young and naive...
I remember seeing her scars.
Two of them, both from the same time.
I don't know why,
but I never thought anything of it.
That is what made me feel the worst.
I knew they were there
but felt nothing for the longest time,
because that was how everyone else treated her.
It had even become part of my nature.
All of my life i tried to avoid choices.
Responsibility is a terrifying thing.
My mother believes that I am strong,
but she doesn't realize i pale in comparison to her.
But I have to fake it.
I have to keep her happy.
Maybe one day I really will become strong,
but until then,
I just think.
I think about my life and my future;
my mothers life and her future;
those scars on her wrists.
We all have choices
but not everyone choose whether to die or not.
She has told me about that time,
but I never ask for details;
it hurts too much.
I can only imagine.
I picture her sitting on the steps
in front of out house.
Her right wrist has two bleeding slits.
In front of her she sees all of the cruelty
she has and continues to go through,
but then she sees her children.
At the time she had three kids.
I was the youngest,
being only about 6 months old.
In that moment she was at her weakest,
but she realized that she could not leave.
She told me
"I was stupid. I am no stupid anymore."
That was the only english word she could think of.
It terrifies me when I wonder to myself
if she still thinks about doing it again,
but I suppose that is my weakness showing.
I have to be strong for you Mom.
I have to be strong so you don't suffer.