#brokenchild

I wish I had done it,

I wish we were best friends.

But that's not us. Her words cut like a knife, I drown in her expectations.

I was never a perfect daughter, but I tried.

I tried and tried until I couldn't anymore.

I had to decide for myself.

I had to get out.

She says she loves me but she despises me.

And I'm slowly realizing that the contempt has grown and continues to grow over the years.

We hardly exchange a word with each other anymore and when we do, they are cold and dismissive.

I mean, where were you last year when I lost my baby?

My aunt!! called you and told you I need my mom right now!!!

But you weren't even remotely interested!!

In the end it was my aunt, uncle and cousins ​​who picked me up again and did everything they could to ensure that I didn't completely isolate myself and withdraw again!!!

J'ai parfois l'impression que toutes les personnes de ma génération sont des enfants brisés, rempli de traumatismes et trop sensibles. Des enfants qui ont été écorchés par la vie.

Puis je me demande, ces enfants brisés arriveront-ils à devenir des adultes fonctionnels ? Entre traumatismes, angoisses et addictions arriverons nous en nous en sortir ?

J'ai 24 ans cette année et je n'ai pas le sentiment de pouvoir devenir un adulte qu'ils pourront qualifier de fonctionnel, je fais encore souvent des crises d'angoisse, prend des médocs, boit un peu trop et je vie encore aves mes démons.