Why do I act this way? I cover myself up from the world. I hope that if they see a brash, rebellious teenager that they won't see the pain of my past. That if I'm someone different than who I really am that it will make it all go away. Disappear until nighttime when I lock the door. 'Til the scars of my past taunt me in my sleep. That no matter what I do, I can't erase the weakness of all those years ago. No matter how hard I scrub, I'm still diseased.
The hurt my father caused me. The way my mother ignored my pleas for help. Why did I let it happen? Why did I allow myself to be so weak? Weakness. Do I really hate it? I half allowed what my father did to me to happen. Was it him whispering into my ear that he loved me seem to make it feel alright? Did I feel special? Am I jealous that my father loves a new little girl? That another has taken my place? Is it the fact that now I know what my father did was wrong? Was it really wrong? Why do I base my value on my father's love? Is it possible that I'm just a simple piece of wood that drifts through my life, needing the current of love to determine whether I'm worth anything? If my mom loves me so much, then why didn't she listen? Why'd she go off to France and disgrace her name like Father disgraced mine?
Why? How?
Stupid questions. Why do I even think this? All it does is bring back the pain. Bring back the gut wrenching feeling. I'll put back on my mask and pretend like it never happened. No one will ever know. No one ever needs to know. If they do they'll abandon me again. As usual.
My charade continues now and always.