Why I Write
I write to release the anger and anguish of a childhood lost. I write to tell the story of becoming a mother and father to a baby brother at the age of thirteen. I write to tell the story of a step-brother who abused me and the early years of addiction lost hope and lost faith. I write to bleed my feelings onto a paper so the words will finally come out and wont stay bottled up inside of me. I write to release the desperation, the abuse, the worthlesness, the teenage angst, and a childhood filled with confusion, miscommunication, a missing mommy and a lost daddy. I write to pour my days of hunger onto a page for someone to read and maybe understand, sympathize, care when no one else seemed to. I wirte to tell about my battle with depression, my battle with a disorder, my battle with addiction, my battle with the demons that have seemed to lock themselves away inside my mind. I wirte to tell my story, of a missing brother and a missing daughter who no one really seemed to miss. I write to tell about 2 years of hell, 2 years of silence, 2 years of waiting, and waiting, and waiting, waiting for the words to come out, waiting for someone to notice something was wrong, waiting for mommy and daddy to notice 60 pounds missing from their daughters body, waiting for mommy and daddy to notice the referals their son would bring home everyday. I write to release the anger and anguish of a childhood lost. I wirte because nowadays it seems as if my words fail me and the truth ever only seems to come out on paper. I write because I want someone to care enough to ask me my life story. I write so that maybe one day, I can say the words I write down aloud. I write because its all I know.
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