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Friday, July 2, 2010
And he thinks I wanna get rid of him.
Cummon, if I wanted to; I'd have eons ago.
Our sons are becoming replicas of him. All the screaming spates in the house. Even the baby screams. Sigh.
I'm going to reflect upon my mistakes and be a better mother; I wonder if you'd do the same.
Then you'll try and try and end up frustrated because I "won't appreciate" you.
I don't know...
I feel like I'm in a bad romance... the victim of some serial mood controller; on the other hand... I'm made to think that I controlled his mood.
Maybe... I am not sure anymore.
You know how some spouses batter their partners and when the victims threaten to leave, they come crying and saying they're sorry? And how these victims almost 100% return to their violent lives and continue to be battered and bashed? Forever until they died from their injuries....
I don't get beaten up... but my heart and feelings do.
Is this the same?
That the perpetrator never realizes how much he is hurting her?
Because he is engrossed in his own misery equally painful to him?
And because that said misery is created by the victim herself?
Then I won't create anything anymore. Let peace prevail in the house so my children can grow up decently docile.
No violence, no shouting and no screaming.
Not resigned to my fate... but choose to actively participate in what is being mapped out for me.
If this is what I'm given, then I'll make do with what I have.
A divorced mother of four young children once told me that her children are everything... yet she indulges in self pity till neglect grows on each and every single one of her offspring.
I'm shocked beyond words what Isaac is turning into.
And STOP he must.
Baby I'm sorry I couldn't do more to give you a good life... and bring you up to become a good person. I'm sorry you have to watch NONSENSE from birth till now. I'm sorry I'm still showing you NONSENSE.
You don't know how much pain I'm feeling now.
Starting today... you'll only dream of flowers and bees in the garden... no more nightmares and crying and shutting you in stores. No more...
No more.
Cummon, if I wanted to; I'd have eons ago.
Our sons are becoming replicas of him. All the screaming spates in the house. Even the baby screams. Sigh.
I'm going to reflect upon my mistakes and be a better mother; I wonder if you'd do the same.
Then you'll try and try and end up frustrated because I "won't appreciate" you.
I don't know...
I feel like I'm in a bad romance... the victim of some serial mood controller; on the other hand... I'm made to think that I controlled his mood.
Maybe... I am not sure anymore.
You know how some spouses batter their partners and when the victims threaten to leave, they come crying and saying they're sorry? And how these victims almost 100% return to their violent lives and continue to be battered and bashed? Forever until they died from their injuries....
I don't get beaten up... but my heart and feelings do.
Is this the same?
That the perpetrator never realizes how much he is hurting her?
Because he is engrossed in his own misery equally painful to him?
And because that said misery is created by the victim herself?
Then I won't create anything anymore. Let peace prevail in the house so my children can grow up decently docile.
No violence, no shouting and no screaming.
Not resigned to my fate... but choose to actively participate in what is being mapped out for me.
If this is what I'm given, then I'll make do with what I have.
A divorced mother of four young children once told me that her children are everything... yet she indulges in self pity till neglect grows on each and every single one of her offspring.
I'm shocked beyond words what Isaac is turning into.
And STOP he must.
Baby I'm sorry I couldn't do more to give you a good life... and bring you up to become a good person. I'm sorry you have to watch NONSENSE from birth till now. I'm sorry I'm still showing you NONSENSE.
You don't know how much pain I'm feeling now.
Starting today... you'll only dream of flowers and bees in the garden... no more nightmares and crying and shutting you in stores. No more...
No more.