I always had an affinity for words and good writing.
Thanks to this
post, I came across the
wouldhavesaid.com site and I just died when I read this. Sometimes it's so hard to be a parent. And it's also hard being a child.
Momma,
Do you remember,
when I was breaking inside,
and when I was breaking bowls and plates and glasses
because I didn’t know how to tell you
that I wasn’t as put-together as you thought?
When I finally realized
that being quiet and stumbling through without causing problems
was just-good-enough for you,
good enough to keep you from being mad at me,
but not good enough to get attention?
When I finally realized that
by being good and letting you focus on my three brothers and their problems
and never asking for anything
was just going to end with me not having anything
and you not caring
and not understanding when I finally asked for something?
Do you remember,
when I finally told you I broke the plate,
and instead of asking why,
or what was wrong,
you said:
“That behavior is unacceptable.”
Did you stop to wonder what behaviors I had skipped for you?
Did you think about all the girls my age with kids,
with addictions and bad attitudes and no respect,
who didn’t even bother coming home at night?
Did you think about what I would feel,
knowing my behavior was ‘unacceptable’,
knowing I was ‘unacceptable’
and that nothing I could do would change that?
Did you realize it was going to make me curl up in bed
and hate for so long
and realize I’d hated the whole time,
and now,
weeks and months and years later,
when I know better,
I still hate,
and I’ll never be able to stop?
Do you remember,
when I was breaking inside,
and when I was trying to break down and tell you,
do you remember leaving me behind
with all the tiny bits of shattered Me,
and telling me the best thing to do
was to build a cage with the pieces?
I don’t think you do.
Allyssa, Your Good Kid, age 18
