“I lose my way,
And it’s not too long before you point it out,
I cannot cry,
Because I know that’s weakness in your eyes.”
I’m broken. I know that. You broke me. Do you remember the day it all started? I do. I remember hiding in my room, crying, terrified to show my face. I remember each day after that. Each day it got worse. Each day you came up with a different excuse. I didn’t clean my room, I didn’t take my dish to the sink, I gave you a bad look, I didn’t wake up on time, I didn’t clean up your mess. The list goes on and on. I wasn’t able to have a normal childhood because of you. How could I? I was too scared to do anything that might set you off. Did you know for awhile I blamed myself? If I wasn’t such a screw up, if I didn’t ruin everything I touched, maybe you wouldn’t treat me like you did. But it wasn’t my fault. I was a kid.. I was a kid! Do you remember the day you looked me in the eye and yelled at me not to cry? That crying was a weakness. You told me I wasn’t allowed to cry in the house. You wouldn’t allow it. You told a little kid that crying was bad, that I’d get punished for crying. How is that fair? How was I supposed to know how to control it? Do you know that because of you I still flinch when someone raises their hand towards me? Even if it’s for something as simple as a handshake? Do you know that I still have nightmares because of you? Do you know that if someone comes up behind me and I don’t know it I get a panic attack? No. You probably don’t. I haven’t ever told you that. Do you know that I still get scared when you yell? I can’t control it. It’s a natural reaction for me now. I can’t stop it. She makes excuses for you. She says you can’t help it. She lies for you. Do you know that I’ll always hate her a little bit for that? Do you know that I’ll always hate you for breaking me? For taking away my innocence, for taking every little piece of me away? They say that the past is the past. That you’re not like that anymore. Wanna know what I think? I think you’re the same man you always were and that one day they’re gonna realize it. But me? I’ll be long gone. Do you know that I hate it when you touch me? Even if you just pat my back, or give me a hug, or kiss my cheek. I hate it. It takes everything in me not to yank away each time you touch me. You did this to me. You broke me. And the worst part? You don’t even care. You’re not even sorry. I’m broken because of you, I still can’t get your voice out of my head telling me I’m a failure. I still look at myself in the mirror and hate what I see because of you. You’ll probably never see this, but if you ever do, I want you to know that I hate you. I always will.