Luxury Bittersweet Bedroom Set
B219 39 SD KO $AFHS PDP Main$
There’s always something convincing about being able to connect with something you seem to know in a book or movie on television. That means you are not lost and alone in this world. It means you are not the only one who feels like an outsider. As children grow in dysfunctional homes, our function is to survive. We are not orphans, we are not physically abused and we are not abandoned or ignored by our parents. Our parents are not selfish people but when I was young, I used to think for myself that maybe it was wrong. Something has gone wrong; something happened I’m done with hoping the past is dead. I realize that the past is what shapes us, as well as our vibrant, colorful and vibrant background and the history we share with our siblings as we grow up.
While fresh flowers are crushed under the stream of winter rain spray and acid spillage into the fading white sunshine; the sky was burning brightly in the morning light as I wrote this on my computer. The aroused sound in my parents’ annoying bedroom keeps the kids back to reality that is connected very differently from other people’s homes, other children’s families. Our childhood is dark; full of unspoken trauma, incurable wounds, open wounds, severely ill flesh screaming in anger and pain to the touch. Nothing seems to heal that softness for the three of us except for hours in front of the television or reading. The thin rain reminds us of all the anger of my mother when no one else can scream. It rubs salt in the wound. It burns and leaves a unique trace in our brain.
When the summer rain came, he swept it all away. It was swept under the carpet, brain, and stomach. It feeds us to express ourselves creatively. I have to give my childhood pain, the name of the desert. As children we are ‘walking hurt’. The three of us broke down in several ways. Initially as slow as honey before going down on our personality and behavior. It marks us. It returns us to sanity at times. It also makes us slowly crazy in different ways; In a visible way, the ways that come in the wave of disconnection and the ways that seem invisible. Parents do not intend to harm their children deliberately. They do not intend to display self-destructive behavior and become dysfunctional in their relationships in their work and relationships at home. The cuts and emotional wounds were there long before I was ten or twelve or remember what it was like to be a child. As a family we pray together and we live together.
As we pray ‘Our Father’ we always keep our eyes open and try to laugh each other out loud inviting retaliation from our father. But he never said anything. As an adult my brothers and sisters do not go to church. I do not know if they believe in God or if they have adopted atheism. My mother had sent them a DVD and CD sermon at the church where she had gone. They do not listen to anything he sends to them. They are blessed with good work, their careers work hard and enjoy. I do not know if they choose to ignore the religion or the role it plays in our lives. I do not know if they meditate or if they remember their prayers at night. I want to remember the best of them. From my parents when I was young. From my mother I remember her perfume she was wearing when I was little. Opium. She’s like medicine for me. I’m addicted to his love. I want him to idolize me like I idolize and worship him when I’m a kid.
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Bittersweet Bedroom Set
Every day it seems like when we were kids, we got stuck in our own reality TV show with low volume so we can come here what they say. We followed a vague sentence like, “I’m leaving you now, I’ve packed my bag and I’m leaving.” I was not there when my father moved for a while. I am in Johannesburg working for a television and film production company. In a nutshell my hands are full of life, color, love and laughter. The things I enjoy, that I have a passion and that I love to do more than anything else in this world. I think that even as adults try to make, rediscover, cover and understand the words of hatred, malice, intent, the words they say to each other. Still to this day my mother’s harassment never ends and endlessly.
He makes you frozen, a living portrait of life, a cold and heartless stone like a ripe bowl of fruity or a rotten tomato. Such strange weird combinations of strange fruit and estranged families. My parents are not bad people; They do not intend to hurt us intentionally; the way they may be as children by their own parents. They have the best intentions for us as children to develop our full potential. They want us to succeed where they do not want them. They want us to succeed by all means. How many times have they talked about us behind closed doors? What will happen to us? Will we succeed through ‘separation’ or ‘divorce’?