I couldn't sleep last night.
It started out because I was itchy and couldn't get comfortable, and then my memory did that thing it still sometimes does, where it replays all the crap and I can't seem to make it stop until I'm exhausted and left uncomprehending.
I don't know if I hate my mother. I do know that I hate a LOT of things she did, and allowed to happen. I know I don't love her. I know I don't understand her.
How do you shack up with a druggo when you have a 2 year old and another baby on the way?
How do you stay with him for 6 years, watching him smoke dope in front of the kids, watching him chat up skanks online, watching him waste all that non-existent money we had?
Maybe, mum, you don't know what I remember. But I was 8 by the time you left. I remember all too clearly.
I'm just thankful that my sisters don't. I'm thankful they don't have images of the fat, hairy man walking around naked, or in your lingerie. I'm not really sure what's worse.
Usually I am happy, I've moved on in my life, and most things seem to be falling into place, but sometimes my memory still runs away with me. And I can't love someone who let all that happen to her kids.
... Time's up.
This is my Stream of Consciousness, and while technically it's Monday for me, the link is still up on Fadra's site. Here's what you do:
Set a timer for five minutes
Write. Everything that comes to mind, no editing, no proof-reading, just raw writing.
Post it, and add the SOC badge