Let other pens dwell on guilt and misery

              I called you ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ                       My mistake      You were never a ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ to me                                                  Just as I was never the ᴄʜɪʟᴅ you wanted me to be.

having parents that were really angry and petty and abusive when you were young is weird, because it makes part of you grow up to want to be kind, to generate good things, to be a source of peace and wellbeing for others; but it makes another part of you grow up to be quick, and sharp, and spiteful, and that’s always the part that shows itself first in a hard situation, so it’s a struggle between your hateful gut reactions and your wish to not add any more misery to the world. it’s a hard balance, and the people who really, really know me - i know they see that anger flash in my eyes before i quiet it, if i quiet it…i want to overcome years of conditioning, and with gentle, constant force, i know i’ll mellow it. it just takes time.