I used to love my parents. When I was younger, she loved everyone, bar none. She was fond of every experience, and all she could wrap her eyes around was heaven. It should be made clear that when I say she, I am referring to myself when I was younger, as I see us as two different and separate people (in a sense). We have always been like this. Back onto track. I used to be very loving and open hearted as a little child. However, around the time when I gained consciousness for the second time, I stopped loving my parents as much. It became a dormant emotion. I realize now that what I occasionally feel for them is foremost appreciation. But it is hard to love someone who flaunts their flaws. I plan on distancing myself from them when I am able, in addition to this, I plan on never letting my future children (human or otherwise) meet them. I feel very upset that reality slapped me in the face when I was younger than I should've been when it did. I am truly disheartened that she had misplaced her faith and feelings. I love her, truly. Make no mistake, she lives on, dare I say she thrives, at times. But swift is the knife that scares her back into her hidey hole. I do not need, nor want, this knife to kill her. To murder her without care and then leave her body to rot. Rather, I desire that this knife makes her know who to trust and love, so that her faith and feelings are not wasted. For she is lovely, truly mesmerizing, and she places within me faith in our world. Faith that neither she, nor I will misplace one day. She is precious, and beautiful(have you seen her eyes?), and that is factual. She loves to love to a degree that I would like to love. My first daughter is mine own self. I hope I can do right by her, my adorable baby girl. The baby girl who is she, which was me, and who inspires me so much.
