I felt broken, beyond measure- alone and betrayed, but most of all broken. It’s a strange thing being hurt by family. It’s not like you owe them anything. You’re stuck with them and there isn’t anything you could do about it. You can’t choose them and yet you’re expected to love them and treat them with respect. What if in all honesty you wanted nothing to do with them, all they did was make your life depressing and stressful? Does that make you a bad person? A sinner? I didn’t think I was all that bad of a person. I have my faults- I’m human. So why when your family hurts you it is the worst kind of hurt, the breaking down of a soul? Is it because you’re stuck with them for life, or is love not something you choose but something that grows over time. Why must we love our families, why is that an unspoken rule? And why must we as humans respect parents who not need give us any respect in return. I don’t understand family- or love-or respect apparently. I can’t even love or respect myself. Which leads me to believe that something is terribly wrong with me.
I can’t even place what hurts or why. All I can hear is my heart constant, steady, pulsing. And aching- I think. It’s a wonder your body knows how to cry when it’s been broken emotionally