Island Devil, born and raised.

so yeah i kinda hate my parents now or rather… they’re strangers to me. and yet they still haunt me in nightmares and dreams.

I think the cruelest part of trauma is when you know you flinched, you know how you reacted to it while i was happening and how far out you’d have to be to ever consider such an action, and you will still second guess it. Am i just dramatic? Am i overexaggurating? finding myself has been an excavation of the rubble of my past, remembering every drop in the bucket that drove me closer to insanity. how could i have thought i had “good parents” for so long despite flinching at their movement? Its crazy what the brain will pretend isn’t there to let you survive. I hate that it took me 8 years of being out of that house to realize they installed the cage right inside my own head.