It’s 22:31 or because I’m constantly getting moaned at over using the 24 hour clock? 10:31pm. I’m in the kitchen(as usual). I noticed going back over my posts on here that more are written on the kitchen floor than anywhere else and it doesn’t matter which house… always the kitchen floor. My safe space in the house. This kitchen is so small that when I sit with my legs out? I touch the other side. But its my place. Always my safe place over so many years…
      I’ve spent the day today like one of those indulgent adverts on TV… you know the ones with some model like waif who’s wearing hardly any clothing, a chunky cardi and fluffy socks. Well scrap the model bit, I probably look like I could eat her and I’m nowhere near that tall. But a day spent in a MLP(if you know? You know) short strappy nightshirt, fluffy socks and you guessed it… long chunky knitted cardi. Dinner was my favourite comfort food, that just so amazingly happens to be something the kiddos love(THANKFULLY!!). and the only time I’ve actually completely covered my legs and maroon undies is when I put bottoms on to go for a walk in the fresh air and discuss relationships with my eldest girl and run my fingers along icicles…
    And now I’m here… the walk didn’t help to clear my mind. I want to cry. Maybe crying will ease this whatever it is inside me thats hurting so much. But I cant. “Good girls dont cry” remember. So here I am… what am I doing here? I dont even know to be honest… but something inside me is breaking and I’m afraid. I’ve been pulling myself further and further inwards this last week. I feel like the wire I’m pulling on won’t take much more tension before it snaps, and then what? I dont want to find out.
    There are certain things in this world I can’t cope with… dont give me a compliment, I dont know what to do with it and you’ll just get an awkward thanks followed by an even more awkward silence as the floor becomes the most interesting thing in the world. Even worse? Dont care about me. See if you care? It means I can let you down. I’m set up for a fall, you’re going to be disappointed in me. Its means I might, just might, let you in. If I let you in? I’m going to get hurt. I cant get hurt any more.
     Many years ago there was a woman, she had the biggest most amazing job that can ever be bestowed on a woman… she was a protector. Her job was to love and protect the a boy and a girl. She failed. The little girl grew up cracked and broken, she was pushed from pillar to post in the care system. She was failed again and again. She didn’t have the love that children so desperately need. But what she did have? She had a voice and that is something incredibly important. The boy? The boy was both mentally and physically disabled. His mental age and developmental skills grew to that of a very very young child and never went further. He had no voice. No one to protect him. He went through sheer hell that would forever be locked inside him with no voice to let it out. I am now grown and as much as possible have tried to move on and in my awake hours, forget what happened to me. But awake or asleep? I remember every scream from my brother, every disgusting vile thing I saw, every heartbreaking moment. That breaks me more than I have ever told anyone. Its etched in jagged pieces across me soul. The amount of times as a little kid I pissed myself in terror and then realised I was gonna get a beating for it or worse, one of their “friends”. So don’t tell me you care. You really want to do something? Be there and dont leave.
    Sigh… the music has ticked on and on as I’ve sat here deep in thought… look at the time… I give up.