#emotionalneglect
You dismissed evolution when the animal learns to bite to survive,
you only care when it bites you.
My mother calls me selfish with tears in her eyes.
All I can think about is when they locked me out barefoot in the snow for crying as a child,
with the coyotes of northern Virginia.
And how the animals didn’t harm me,
but instead looked back at me with tears in their own eyes.
Because we were both subjected to the cold of our livelihoods that taught us to fend to protect ourselves,
even if we were both born with what others saw as a fur coat to never feel the ice.
Only the coyotes was made of fur,
yours was made of the stability they gave you.
How could you be cold when others could see what you had?
To them you had a coat on,
It didn’t matter if it you could actually feel it or not.
We both learned to fight for our food,
both demonized for it by the same reason we fought for it in the first place.
You hunt for your food once.
You hunt for it twice.
You hunt for your food three times.
Until your natural instinct is to hunt, and to hurt.
Although you weren’t born to hunt, you weren’t born an animal.
You were made into one.
Forced to hurt for your food because they didn’t want to feed you.
They try to feed you now, and you bite them.
They’ll wonder why,
they’ll tell you that you shouldn’t.
You don’t bite the hand that feeds you.
But they never did.
You fed yourself.
You protected yourself.
You comforted yourself.
The only person there for yourself was you.
You were made into the animal,
now when they try to be there for you,
you bite.
They’ll call you violent.
“Petty”
“Abusive”
“Selfish”.
But they don’t care that you were taught to bite.
They only care because you bit them.
Because the mark from your bite was proof they made you this way.
May 22
May 22, 2026 at 7:45 PM UTC
How are you not to be damaged,
When the one that you think is supposed to love,
Doesn't really love you.
I mean it feels like there is supposed to be some sort of unwritten rule somewhere
That states if you have a a kid you must love them.
I'm not just talking about muttering those three little words.
That can be scribbled on paper, or typed in an email.
I'm talking about a deep rooted, carved in your heart, can be felt from across the world, no mistaking, pure and sacrificial love.
Tangible love, seen, and felt, and heard.
No I don't need money from you.
I would prefer to feel like I'm worth knowing
Rather than the feeling of my forgiveness being bought.
See how am I supposed to feel that others in life will like me,
If my own parent doesn't care to even know me.
Yes the world is a wonderful place and I understand the feeling of being caged.
So wouldn't it have been better in the beginning if you had never even made the effort?
So that when you decided that the world was worth more
and that I was just an anchor to a place you didn't care for.
Wouldn't it have been easier for me,
Instead of feeling like I was a piece of trash tossed over your shoulder missing the waste basket because you didn't even care to look as you threw it.
Not even put in a rightful place, left to wonder is it something I did wrong?
Only to grow up and find out it was much worse
it wasn't anything I did, it is the simple fact that I wasn't enough.
Wasn't enough for you, to much work to wipe off my ***** face.
Wasn't enough for you to pick up and kiss the ****** knee that I scrapped.
Wasn't enough for you to watch me as I grew, to give me advice on making life's toughest decisions.
Wasn't enough for you to see that although it was good for you to escape the cage from which you felt confined to,
you didn't realize that I had followed you in, and on your way out without so much as a backwards glance, you locked me in.
Maybe I got it wrong.
Maybe there shouldn't be some unwritten rule that makes you love your children.
Because there shouldn't be anything that makes you love.
Maybe I just need to realize that some people are loved and others just aren't.
Some people are capable of loving.
Some are only capable of hurting those who have a twisted look on life
Thinking that by just being someone's own flesh and blood qualifies to being loved.
Only to be taught the truth.
It doesn't.
Sep 30, 2012
Sep 30, 2012 at 2:09 PM UTC
I had brothers and not a single one ever protected me.
Instead I was belittled in ways that to this day affect me.
I was introduced to the cruel world at my youngest of ages.
Brothers who didn’t believe in me or love me.
Brothers who passed me on the streets.
Brothers who blamed me for protecting them.
5 against 1.
I was never good enough.
Never worth protecting.
I wasn’t connected, I was intentionally disconnected.
Always the outside looking in.
Instead of believing I could be good enough to win the game ball
They laughed at me made me feel unheard and disregarded.
Again like I was never good enough.
I had 5 brothers and not a single one felt like a brother to me.
I had 5 chances and not a single one gave me one.
I was the villain never allowed to be the victim.
The memories are never the ways I stepped in between and guarded them.
I just never mattered.
It’s never the conversations about how they would reach out for me when they were scared.
Me. I stood up for them but they never did for me.
I had 5 brothers but I don’t feel like a sister at all.
Apr 20
Apr 20, 2026 at 10:41 PM UTC
After every courtroom dinner session,
the night weeps long.
Pages confess how life keeps getting it wrong.
Shh… shh… coffee whispers into a mug like a black hole.
Water taps a single beat, dancing with remnants of tears on the wet sink.
Hunger dies when kindness
does not live in eyes.
The poor thing searches for anything, wishing the brain would forget how to think.
The mind roams into a fog of Spotify
no music brings sleep in a thousand blinks.
Footsteps heavy,
throat burning like last night’s gravy.
Welcome back to the same chair
with the scar of tomorrow.
Where is the heart?
It feels hollow.
A broken plate.
A bent spoon.
Nothing tastes like food.
“Don’t waste it! You ungrateful.”
“We provide , such a worthless mess.”
That’s when a tiny plant learned to ask for water less.
Mind wants to drift away just like a bird.
Song on mute, forever unheard.
In a loop, it is stuck , I must swallow.
Whispers in the dark pass through a worn-out pillow.
Feb 26
Feb 26, 2026 at 3:36 PM UTC
Resentment(noun)- a bitter indignation
at having been treated unfairly.
A feeling of anger due to being forced to accept something
that is not to your liking.
An emotion.
Resentment- hatred, anger,
like a bile of hot molten lava
tearing through the flesh of my heart,
splitting it apart
trying to break the confinement of my ribcage;
slipping as a drop of clear saline fluid
from the left corner gland.
I, being frustrated, trying my best
to stop those salty drops,
fighting a losing battle.
The pain, rage, fury, sitting deep inside my mind
is turning into resentment.
An emotion.
Sitting alone for hours, in the midst of mayhem
trying to sort out every chaotic thought,
trying not to feel miserable,
that helplessness of not being useful,
of not being able to do anything;
is what makes me feel resentment.
My home turning into a mere house
is making me feel resentment.
Resentment- an emotion,
an emotion I would rather not feel,
an emotion I wish had never learned my name.
Feb 5
Feb 5, 2026 at 9:35 AM UTC
Oh, mother
when did I start mothering myself
because you couldn’t?
When did I learn
to wipe my own tears,
to soften my own voice,
to hold myself the way
I begged you to hold me?
Am I healing,
or am I only becoming
my own replacement?
Why do I hear your tone
in my anger,
your silence in my pauses,
your sharpness
when I speak without thinking?
Why do I hate myself
every time I sound like you?
Why am I terrified
that I am slowly turning
into the thing that broke me?
Did I believe I could change you
just by loving harder,
by being quieter,
by being better?
Did I think if I survived enough,
you would soften?
Why did no one tell me
that daughters are not meant
to save their mothers?
Why did I carry hope
like it was my responsibility?
Why does it still hurt
to admit
that love was not enough?
Oh, mother
if I am learning to mother myself,
is that healing
or proof
that no one came?
And if no one could save you,
why did it have to be me
who learned the cost?
Jan 22
Jan 22, 2026 at 12:59 AM UTC
I'm afraid to ask for the love
My parents couldn't give me
I was fed, bathe, sheltered
Emotional love was a luxury
I thought it was okay
Feelings weren't a priority
Until merely existing
Became a both already
If I asked more than minimum
It's a reason to leave me
So I keep all feelings inside
I'm afraid to be needy or clingy
I'm scared to ask for help
To people who aren't family
Even though blood relations
Couldn't keep them beside me
So now I try to reach out
But only when necessary
Because I still struggle to love
And allowing people to love me
Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 12:24 AM UTC