’Cause you brought the flames and you put me through hellI had to learn how to fight for myself
And we both know all the truth I could tell
I'll just say this is I wish you farewell
I will never understand why people don't speak up for children. Why do people turn a blind-eye and allow a child to be abused? To those who will answer this question with a "It's none of my business", you are a fucking coward.
The older I get, I find more resentment in the people who knew what was going on behind closed doors, and who never said a damn word. Do you have any idea how different my life could've been had someone just decided that "enough was enough"? I find myself wondering what was so wrong with me for someone not to step in and save me. I get it, it could've been worse- much worse... but it was still bad. So bad that I live with the damage everyday. . . so bad, that the way my brain functions and processes things was altered. I suppose that's none of your business either...
Maybe this is why I have a fucked up perspective on what love is. Everyone who claimed to love me, and who was supposed to protect me, didn't. Everyone who "loved" me, left. It must have been a lot easier to go home and pretend nothing was happening. I can't imagine how someone could face themselves knowing what was going on and not saying a word. Kids should always have a safe haven- where the hell was mine?! No matter where I went, I always ended back up where I shouldn't have been. I guess I was the "special lucky child" though, instead of one hell house, I got two. Two terribly broken households, and dozens of people who never said a word. Sickening, isn't it?
Luckily, even though I struggle with mental illness daily, I turned out half-way decent- or so I would like to think. I took everything that broke me, and allowed it to make me stronger. Granted, I feel like one of the weakest people ever at times, I am strong and the more I think about that, it's really no thanks to anyone but myself.
I bust my ass daily to provide a childhood for my daughter that she will never have to recover from. The little girl inside of me make sure to be the driving force for that. I want to make sure Marleigh never has to feel the way the little girl feels. I never want my daughter to question her worth, or her life, especially because of something I did or said. I would never be able to live with myself inflicting such pain on such innocence. Just wish someone had wanted that for me. . . maybe it would've made me that much better.