The his jaw, the ache of his rage, the quick wit and inability to forgive.

A Fierce reflection, and my greatest fear

What reflects my father within me

The Darkest truth, the ones I cannot hide from.

We are more alike then not.

Two toxic plants for the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Only I choose to be more...

At least, I try to.

Dear whomever wrote me...

Fuck off, I hate that you made me spend so long under an abusive father's rule... that you made me suffer through PTSD and Bipolar, that you made me lose freinds and gain weight... that you let me make stupid decisions...

But I guess I can't be entirely mad... I am wiser now... happier...I am on the road to recovery and I did it without you, but you made my world so I guess I have to thank you for those resources. I am on medication that is helping and I am on my way to Jobcorp to be an LPN... I am in a better place...

So, If I see you I might knock your teeth out, but I will take you to a dentist to get repairs...

Love, and Hate...

Mika...

When I was a child, no more then 10 years old, my father and mother divorced and my father started to date his cousian whom we had only recently met. I never really cared too much, thanks to my father's machinations... I should have. No more then three months later, after mistakingly calling my cousian/stepbrother Seth both my cousian and brother my father cornered me in the bathroom and beat me, stomping on my tiny chest with his size ten shoe.

This went on for four, almost five years until it reached a peak. I was accused of theft by a cafeteria, a total lie since I literally told her that I found a hot food item in the cold fruit area before she even saw it, and my father well... he didn't take it well. For the first time in my life I stood up for myself, a tiny act of defiance that I soon regreted at my father slammed me into the ground by my neck, punching me in the face without care.

The bruise and the shame in his eyes made me realize something, I mattered... hurting me was wrong and I was right to be internally and now outwardly defiant. I was allowed to value myself over father, my siblings, my awful cousians. I was allowed to be more then his puppet, to abuse at the whims of his temper and my sadistic stepmother.

I loved my self then... and my life. Not what was going on in that moment but that I was alive, I didn't regret being born. The future seemed to exist for me... I was at peace...

Of course that spark faded a little, mostly out of fear, but the kindness and concern of a few kids in school including one I never really spoke to helped... the next day I turned my father in to my Counsler... I was freed that day, sent into fostercare the day afterwards.

Beyond my pain, beyond my pleasure, robbed of life and purpose. Watching myself and knowing it's me but swearing it's a stranger. Constant existance without anything that makes it real, robotic and a lie. It is not life for life is suffering, and without that are you really alive? We live to stop the pain, to avoid it... if we feel nothing, what is the point, what is our purpose?