I blocked it for most of my life. We were young and playing at my father's aunt's house. They had clothes to dress up in, in the play room. So I picked the clothes I liked, some of the aunt's old dresses. I put one on, I was maybe 8 at the time. We were having fun, my cousins, my sisters and I. Much of it was just kids playing. Then my father came in the room, his face I will never forget. The anger and turmoil that shone through his eyes, split me in half faster than a laser. His words were even worse. The names he used I will not speak. His aunt behind him, chastised him down, my saving grace.
He respected his aunts, so he shut his mouth. The first moment away, he ripped into me faster than a flaming knife through butter.
So I quit and bottled any thoughts that were my own. I learned and did as my role was suppossed to be. Cutting and crying, hiding all of me. I did what was expected of what I was supposed to be. Burying myself as far as could be.
I understand now, why I did what was expected and did not care. I had to show a path, that was to be seen.
I wake in my age and regret the years I lost, not being me. Yes I hide what I was, even from me.
I have only the future to be and realize me.
