aphelion

it must be some sort of animal instinct. my offspring is wounded, i should twist the knife.

we talked about the weather. i did not tell her that i agree with what she told me at eight, that she should have aborted me when she had the chance so i would not have had the chance to feel and cause so much suffering. i wanted to. i typed it out and let it hang in the message box before deleting it and remarking that i like to sit in the garage and see how long i can tolerate the oppressive heat.

to tell her that she should have aborted me would have been asking her to be stronger than she or i could have been. to tell her that those words have infected every white and gray cell of my brain, every thought, oozing into my interactions with others (they think it too, they also wish that my mother had aborted me when they had the chance, i can see it - once your mother has forced you to recognize that feeling you can see it in others EVERYWHERE), pervading my essence would put us back into the same cycle. you hurt me, i say, and it’s been so long just get over it she says. it’s not her fault anymore, it’s crossed that invisible point of parent’s responsibility to adult child’s responsibility.

if i am not strong enough to become loving, it just will keep going.

i don’t wish “kids just like you” on my children the way she did me. i tell them they should never have kids, or at least wait to have them after healing from me and my claws in their heads.

its the easiest way to break the cycle after all. don’t have kids. abort them so you aren’t left wishing you had.