I've lived most of my life worried about what other people think. Most of my friends would scream bullshit. But my true friends know I've lived most of my life heart broken. It's not anything anyone wants to admit. It's kind of like admitting you've lived your whole life in hell. I may have. I've lived where someone has always wanted to crush me. Destroy me. Hated me. No reason. No justification. Just pure jealousy. It's not a life I would wish on anyone.
I've been hated by women. Everyone expects that. They expect women to hate on a pretty woman. Always makes me wonder what destroyed my mother. There's jealous and there's ugly. When your life sucks and the jealous bullshit on top of it.... Well, I have lived it. Maybe I'm stronger than my mother. I've wanted to die. I've wanted to kill. All because ugly bitches. I can't imagine what my mother's life was. I just know that none of those ugly jealous women that hated her could ever have survived what she did... Because she didn't.
Who I am? The surviver? Daddy. My mother was a cream puff compared to Daddy. She counted on him to protect her. He did. I'm the same, but somehow I always manage to pick the men who do not have my back. The sorry ass cowards that don't have me can talk trash all they want but truth isn't I'm more woman or too strong or too bitch. They just didn't have the strength to be there for me. My Daddy had the strength. Anything less is pathetic.
But I live because of my father's strength not because of my mother's weakness. Her weakness was not her fault, just a side bar of a world gone. My strength is my father, my mother's father and her mother and my own version of hell no. I watch people who suffer all the time because of fucked up yester year. It breaks my heart. My Mama would've died a little bit everytime someone suffered. She never grew tough.
Funny thing is I didn't grow strong because of her weakness. I grew strong from who she taught me to me be coupled with her weakness and Daddy's strength. I am my parents child. I have the compassion of my mother that was so compassionate it was weakness. I have my father's strength and temper to make sure I know I can defend right from wrong. But I have the mind from both to think, to know, and to show both strength and compassion at the same time. Can you say the same?
We are entering a new year following one of the ugliest years in American history. I'm hopeful. Because I'm always hopeful. The glass is never half full. I get a smaller glass and call it full. I miss the life I should've had. I was deprived. And yet, I'm happy. Are you? If not, why? I lost everything as a child. I'm okay and even hopeful and happy. What's your problem?
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