𝒫𝓇𝑜𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃𝒶𝓁 𝒫𝒾𝓍

I just want to feel comfortable with someone.

My heart breaks for the version of me that used to be afraid of her mom. 7 years old, and terrified. I'd hide in my closet and cry, shaking as I could hear her threats from earlier repeating in my head. But sometimes, there is a part of me, that thinks if she had just seen me in those vulnerable moments, maybe she would have grieved for herself. That innocent child, who was a victim of sexual assault. Or what if she had seen my teenage self, cutting, out of desperation to feel an escape? Would she have been able to relate to me, as a 13 year old mother? Being a woman, and being a daughter is such a beautiful burden. Those are two labels she and I both carry very differently. Now, I am 21, and I haven't been able to speak to my mom in two months. I imagine her sitting in her apartment alone, as the roads are too icy to drive on, wondering what she did to deserve to be dealt this hand. Maybe she journals, asking god what she could have done differently. "I did what I could, with what I knew. Why was it not enough for anyone around me?". I know this is just wishful thinking. Reruns of The Steve Harvey Show play as she eats scrambled eggs for dinner, for the 5th time this week. She will probably pray for me, and I will pray for her. And we will move on.

"Did you want to be something more?"

I never imagined there would be a day where I only knew you through the smell on a stranger.

When did you love me last?