Those reading my poetry blog may have noticed a decline in the quality of my work.
As you may or may not know I have started class again but I have changed schools. I liked my classmates in my previous school. The classmates in my new school seem nice and a few of them have attempted to reach out to me. I would like to say I have reached back and am well on my way to making friends but unfortunately that’s not the case. I am overwhelmed by all the newness and by issues in my personal life. I have been feeling very disconnected lately and can hardly carry on a conversation.
So what has me so distracted these days? Well I have recently told my mom about being molested. She believed me. She also confronted my dad, just as I knew she would. He was in bad condition, living in filth, and drunk. He denied it outright but added sharply that if he did anything he was probably drunk. He approached her then (I am not sure in what manner she would not say) but she ran out of the house. He hasn’t changed. He is still a monster. He is still my father (by blood only). I am bothered that my dad is far from the only monster in my family tree. I am bothered that when looking at arrests in my hometown 400 of them are family members. It’s not even a big city. I am bothered that I grew up in a carnival of malevolence.
Part 2. When my mom was pregnant (aside from working the whole time because my dad was an unemployed alcoholic) my grandma tried to kill her/us. I feel some sense of betrayal because I loved my grandma so much. Granted she hadn’t met me when she attempted to purge the demon’s spawn but still it makes me think all sorts of stupid things. Like maybe she only used me to get at my mom, to turn me against her in retaliation (she was vindictive and held grudges for life). I would like to think she genuinely loved me, that she regretted the whole attempted murder thing when she met me. I like to think she came to realize that I wasn’t a demon spawn but a person. I realize that even if I was just part of a revenge scheme that I loved her and she did give me comfort and sometimes weirdly stability (despite being very unstable). I perceived her as loving me as well despite some serious control issues and mood swings. Is a person who would kill their pregnant daughter capable of love? I don’t know. It may not matter because I loved her enough for two people but it breaks my heart a little.